Dishes and Musings

I’m working on cabinets which means things need to be washed and re-organized. I do a lot more dishes than I have in years – being a single and having the ‘wash it when you use it’ habit finally established means no stacks of dishes in the morning.

Unless you cleaned out a drawer full of Tupperware lids and the drain was full from the last load. The leftovers get to soak overnight. Once I get to the Tupperware itself, I’ll worry about errant lids. For now, in bags and put away they go.

The kitchen overlooks both the front yard (hummingbirds! Yay!) and the carport (still have car – also yay!) with the window above the sink facing the carport. As I was washing the rest of the lids (Tupperware lids breed, I’m convinced of this), the dogs started barking to inform the neighbor that he was in his yard. Now, me, I think the neighbor can figure that out all by himself but the dogs think it’s an important duty to let the poor man know where he is. I bow to their canine wisdom in this case – besides, the door is too far away to run and yell at them.

They ran the fence, making very sure the neighbor knew where the fence was (they are considerate, anyway) and Chocolate went the wrong way at first. Back on the right track, they got the neighbor straightened out (a daily task this time of year – lots of rain equals lots of mowing) and trotted back toward the house. Deciding they could use a bit of sun, they both plopped in the erstwhile drive.

It’s the first time I’ve ever been able to watch them from a window. It’s nice – in more ways than one. They are loose in the yard, like dogs should be. The ‘Great Escape’ re-enactments are fewer and farther between – even Rocket seems content to stay behind the fence line most days. No kennels or chains – just plenty of space to amble and race – and plenty of my things to mess up (most of my stuff is still under the carport. They don’t touch anything else – and I’ll give them the dry oatmeal I didn’t realize was out there – but “Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul” was a bit much.

Posting early today – someone forgot to go to the store yesterday and needs groceries. Someone also forgot to go to Prattville Farm Center for the dog food. Someone deliberately decided to skip Tractor Supply yesterday so Love could go with her today – but we aren’t out of cat food so I stand by that decision. I just wish someone would quit forgetting things…

Spaghetti breakfast – because of the aforementioned forgotten groceries – and a little tidying up before I go. Looking around, I see progress – but so very little. Forgetting the first two weeks when I was so sick and the third week when I was mostly moving my stuff – and still sick – it’s been almost a month yet it only looks like a few hours work has been done (not counting the carport which looks untouched every morning – stupid dogs… I didn’t put that there!).

My sister always said I was lazy – but I surprised her a few times. We once scrubbed down the walls and ceilings in the bedrooms while Momma and my stepfather were away because I got started and she found me working on it and decided to help. Granted, her help involved painting but it was nice, anyway. Point being, when I get going, I usually get stuff done.

Used to, anyway. Now? Not so much. Half killed myself moving next to nothing out of the trailer – seriously, I’d known all along so if it wasn’t edible, needed for pets or gonna be worn, it didn’t get to come. I had a chair, an air mattress and two plastic drawers as the complete bedroom set – and all the furniture in the place. The music stands and the recorders were the only non-essentials – and it still took two days to get all the assorted junk sorted, bagged and put into storage. My Dad would have never packed so little in a car – normally, neither would I – but just a few trips up the stair would wear me out.

Getting stuff out of storage was easier – no packing – but I was still doing partial loads because I couldn’t stay on my feet – or in the heat, to be fair. Five loads and I wasn’t so sure I was going to make it past number three.

Not just physical labor – I don’t stay focused as well as I used to. I forget what I’d planned for the day sometimes – until it’s later than I meant to start. {Important things like the hearing Friday get on the calendar, my phone alert, and the computer – but honestly, I’ve done that my whole life – anyone can forget occasionally.} The poor cats think I’m trying to starve them to death – I keep changing their feeding time. Eh, that’s probably just because I’m not having to race out the door right now – still, I didn’t used to goof it up so often.

Puttering, my Dad called it. He would work the whole day – I don’t remember him knowing how to hold still – but there wouldn’t be much showing for it at the end of the day. Those last couple years – he puttered. The house needed a lot of finish work but he wasn’t up to it any more. I had never really thought about it – but know I get a few things I didn’t understand back then. The time he got so mad about that stupid C clamp – he was up on a ladder and needed one but I didn’t know what it looked like. I brought a toy one just to confirm it was the right kind and he got really angry – you had to know my Dad to know that he almost never did that.

Because for once, he wasn’t puttering. He was making progress and he didn’t have patience with anything getting in his way right then. Puttering wasn’t what he wanted – he wanted to get things done. Learning that he couldn’t any longer – that had to have been harder than I ever realized. At least until now.

Looking out at the dogs, I can almost see Daddy outside, going to do this or that, Missy and the crew at his heel. The time my three dogs managed to produce 18 puppies and a little sea of pups would follow him around.

But it’s time to get moving. Dishes to finish, stuff to do, groceries and pet food – lots of stuff, puttering. I miss being able to do more than putter – but it’s time to put aside the memories and get a move on.



One Comment Add yours

  1. mlaf2013 says:

    I call it noodling. I also call it puttering. And being sidetracked. So totally relate to this.


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