Anniversaries are wonderful things, reminding us of how long we’ve been with that special someone, of graduations, birthdays; those once-in-a-lifetime trips to the Caymans to set-up that tax dodge, and…suddenly realizing it’s been 10 years since you last washed the windows.
I was going to get to it, honest.
Sufficiently embarrassed, I girded my loins and set forth to my tasks, which I must say I had no terrible interest in. Sadly, that doesn’t necessarily negate the need, or in other words: “You’ve put it off long enough, Dude!”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
My tasks were manifest and the list long. This produced a loud groan and very little sympathy, though my dear companion offered to help. Such are the small favors of life. So, as my wife moved stuff out of the way, I roamed through the house diligently, well mostly, cleaning the windows. Some of this required step stools, adding an element of danger. It also added an element of mess as the introduction of water and chemicals will do. This requires cleanup, naturally, which only enhanced my lack of enthusiasm for the entire affair.
Grimly, I soldered on.
That meant the outside part of the windows also had to be cleaned, which meant ladders and ledges, thereby heightening the element of danger and the probability that I would soon be visited by the fire department as I lay crumpled on the ground having suffered grievous bodily harm. Laugh if you must, but it’s well documented that the number 1 cause of accidents among men of a certain age (read old) is falling off ladders. It’s what killed Christopher Plummer. Miraculously, I was able to finish without ending up in the emergency room.
And on the plus side, I can now strut about the house and gaze upon the finery of my work. (At least until the rain and wind dirty things up and send me into a funk wondering why did I even bother.)
Emboldened, I looked over the remaining tasks still on the list (apparently, they don’t go away). Further emboldened, I made the executive decision to do it another day. No point in, say, straining a muscle or something.
As for the deck pictured above, I’ll probably get someone who knows what the hell they’re doing; not that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, mind you. Rather it’s that I have more important things to do, like this blog, and it’s my way of keeping the economy humming along, and that I don’t want to.
I’m good till the fifth anniversary.
©2021 David William Pearce