Off what? Off work? I don’t think so! I just exchanged one job for another—that of cleaning house. I’d rather be at the hospital. No one has ever accused me of being a good housekeeper. I think I inherited my father’s bent on that score. My mother always prided herself at being able to welcome company any time there might be a knock on the door. My father would come in, put his hat on the piano and expect it to be there a week later if he hadn’t worn it in the meantime. If he wore a different hat, it could join the first until there would be a collection. My mother had other ideas. And my father had to go to the closet for his hat.
The same held true for his clothes. They wound up in a pile on the floor. Mother picked up after him until his death a little over six years after they married. She would have joyfully picked up after him the rest of her life had the Lord spared him. Instead of having me help her in the house, she did it herself and I was left to my own devices—playing and reading.
My problem is there’s no one to pick up after me. If I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. I was going to keep the house clean so I wouldn’t be embarrassed if someone came to see me. Still, I drop things and there they stay. I step over them and go on. I’ve got to do better.
I’m also a confirmed pack rat. I never met a box I didn’t want to save. I don’t throw away much of anything. In my defense, though, I take my plastic bags and tomato boxes to the roadside produce market where they reuse them. That isn’t telling about my week.
Last Sunday, it was hauling off trash and shopping day. I stopped by Goodwill but didn’t buy anything. I just looked. I had my visit with DD when I got home.
Monday, I violated the rule for no sun. I sat outside long enough to eat my watermelon. I made good headway in the house. I had a call from the head elder at church requesting my presence at the first nominating committee meeting on Wednesday. I’m an alternate but he felt it was necessary for me to know what’s going on in case I have to fill in for someone.
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. Things were pretty much a blur. I had to go back to town on Tuesday and that’s the day I bought a bra/camisole and top at Goodwill. One was on half price and the two together were $6.50. Pretty easy on the budget. Oh, I also hauled off more trash.
Days were good but nights could be agony. That’s when the fleas wake up and start biting. It’s hard to sleep with that going on.
Wednesday, I didn’t get much done because of not sleeping well the night before. The day was pretty well shot except for finally being able to get gas. Here is what greeted me when I had gone by the station on Tuesday:
The signs were on all the pumps—regular (that’s what I use), unleaded plus, and premium.
I made a salad to take to the committee meeting but didn’t eat much of it because I couldn’t hear what was being said over the crunching. Next time, it will be a green smoothie. By the time I went to prayer meeting it was later than I wanted to get home. It was later still when I took my nightly bath and went to bed.
Thursday, I was in the process of shampooing the master bath when my shampooer gave up the ghost. I took it to my neighbor and he said he’d see if it could be fixed. When his wife got home, she looked at it and pronounced it toast. I had been afraid of that, anyway, so I had already gone to town (again) and bought another one. There went my budget for really raw cashews. I’m down to my last bag and needed to order some more.
I went by Goodwill (again) and this time I found a beautiful jumper with a jacket marked $7.99 but half price at $3.99. I have found My Store. It hasn’t been there long. If anyone wanted to go to Goodwill before, they had to go far afield.
Thursday night, I couldn’t sleep because my skin felt like it was on fire. I must’ve been having a reaction to the flea bites plus I’ve been bathing nightly (sometimes twice) in Melaleuca Shampoo. My skin felt like sandpaper. I got up after midnight and started looking for something to help. I got my coconut oil and mixed it with some ancient Benadryl cream I had from years ago when I’d damaged a nerve in my finger. I slathered that on with a washcloth and was eventually able to get some relief.
It was back to shampooing on Friday. The shampooer I got is a Hoover. I told DD that I’ll give it five stars on cleaning but only one on assembly and ease of use. There is nothing whatsoever instinctive about it. The quick start guide got me through assembly but it was the manual at my side that was crucial to operation. My word! I’ve never seen such a design. Dyson didn’t do it, that’s for sure! It had to be a committee of men to come up with something like that. And it’s supposed to be smaller than the others I looked at but it sure pushes and pulls hard.
After I finally finished up my bathroom (that was the room I’d started with when I did in my Bissell), I was vacuuming my bedroom, preparing it for shampooing. WELL! my Dyson quit. I felt like sitting down and crying. Instead, I got online and searched, finding there is a filter that’s supposed to be cleaned every six months. I’ve had the vacuum for how many years? I cleaned it and read some more. The filter had to dry 12 hours before it could be put back where it belonged. I’m getting another filter so I can keep vacuuming next time. I have six months to order it.
I haven’t been sleeping well. Last night, I went to bed at 9:30 after my usual bath (without the shampoo this time) and again anointing myself with coconut oil and Benadryl. I slept for three hours and woke up. After another two-three hours, I got up and took two melatonin and went back to bed. I finally drifted off and slept well the rest of the night. It was after 7 when I woke. I’d called my backup for the organ last night and let her know I’d need her to fill in.
This morning, I was feeling better so I showered and fixed my hair thinking I’d go on to church. After doing that, the washed-out feeling came back so I stayed home. And now it’s to vacuuming so I can finish shampooing tomorrow. Good night—but when?