My kitchen remodel started a week ago. I now have no sink, no oven, and no dishwasher. I set up a temporary kitchen in the spare bedroom (do people still call them that?). I have a microwave, a hot pot, a crock pot, and a toaster. I wash dishes in the bathtub. I feed my dogs in the living room. I’ve lost my big calendar/planner. I hope I didn’t throw it out with the newspapers.
I decided to escape to Monterey for two days since my house is cold with all the in and out of the contractor. Ironically, my oven stopped working down there, and I had to meet the repair man. He came early and let himself in with the lock box keys. The twenty-year-old oven in that house needs a new igniter, so yeah for that. I don’t need to replace it.
I did my usual routine: clean up the front and back yards from the last rainstorm (I must’ve picked up sixty branches and 25 pine cones), eat lunch, hit some thrift stores, and drop by the appliance place to pay for the service-call charge, but not before I filled the spare crock pot with chicken, carrots, and potatoes and turned it on high.
It was a gorgeous day with predictions of rain for the following. The AT&T Pro-Am golf tournament is going on this weekend, so there were lots of tourists doing some bad driving. After my errands I decided to park by the ocean and watch the sun set. I kept jumping out of the car to take yet another photo. I took about two dozen of them.
Then I went home and wrote a blog post about dyeing my hair and cleaned my fireplace mantle covered in seashells while I watched a toasty fire in my new fireplace insert. I couldn’t watch the nightly news because my cable box wasn’t working right and there was no sound on that channel. Yet another broken thing to fix.
The next morning looked like rain, so I finished up my yard work and did a load of laundry before heading out to some more thrift stores and to get the two local papers so I could read the police log. It’s amazing how many DUI arrests there are in Carmel and Pacific Grove, along with restraining orders being violated, cars being broken into, and tourists losing their cameras, phones, and wallets.
Then I went searching for a thrift store that moved on February 1st and found a carpet store with a parking lot next door to it. I felt guilty about parking in their lot, but there was a big sign in their window advertising a clearance sale on area rugs. I went in. The woman wanted to know what size rug I wanted, and I said I didn’t know. She said it would be hard to help me if I didn’t know what size I wanted.
“I just want to see what you have,” I said.
She directed me to a three ring binder of available rugs. Then a guy took over and offered to show them to me. He was friendlier and more willing to help me. I am sure the woman thought I was just a looky-loo, but I’ve run a brick and mortar shop, and you never know who is going to whip out her credit card and spend a whole lot of money. You have to treat everyone as though they will buy.
After I found three rugs that I liked, Darrell took me out to the cold warehouse to show them to me. We only found two of them in the vertical area-rug forest. The polka dotted one was three dimensional so not a good choice for a senior with senior friends that drink. One of us would trip on a raised dot and spill red wine all over my new rug. The one I really wanted was MIA, but there was another colorful geometric funky one, which I ended up buying.
“Is your car in our lot?” Darrell asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I was really coming to go to the thrift store. I didn’t even know you were here.”
“And you came in because you felt guilty?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “And look what happened?”
“Wonderful,” he said.
“I always find the best stuff when I’m not looking for it,” I said.
“Okay,” said Darrell.
I guess I didn’t look like a rug buyer.
Once I got home the tricky part was getting it out of my car and into my house. But my rusty red wagon helped me with that. The rain didn’t help, but I got it done. I also finished my laundry and got Comcast to reset my box, so now I have sound with every channel.
It’s a slower pace here with no internet and enough time to wander into a rug store and come out with a striking treasure. I didn’t buy anything at the thrift store, but they gave me two cardboard boxes to fill up with branches for the green can guy.
Couldda Wouldda Shouldda
I should’ve explored that part of Monterey before, but I never even thought about it.