Cleaning for Company and a Bleach Bottle

Thanksgiving Day is fast approaching. I still had to clean the sewing room for my daughter, who is coming for a short visit from the East Coast. I also emptied out my office so that I could get a twin mattress in there when all three of my kids, plus one husband, are here for Christmas.

The cleaning woman/gardener/handy woman spent the day before cutting down my humongous hedge — well, just one bush. The hedge is so high and unruly that it is blocking the light from the valley oak tree, now six or seven years old, that sprang up from a buried acorn.  Who doesn’t want a Valley Oak in their yard? I put a tomato cage around it back in 2015 and have been babying it ever since. It’s nine feet tall now. When it started to lean away from the hedge this month in its search for sunlight, I knew the hedge had to go, at least part of it.

That was yesterday. The handy woman helped me in the garage to make room for all of my plastic file boxes of different writing projects: the Beatles, Kama Suture, Julia Platt, my uncle David’s WWII story, etc.  We got them moved to shelving in the garage, freeing up floor space in the office for the mattress.

Today we were both a little less enthused with each other, but I was sure glad she was here when I dropped a small bottle of bleach as I carried it toward the sliding door to put in the fountain, which was turning green.

The bottle hit the hardwood floor and splattered everywhere, including up my nose and in my mouth. I called for Kelly to come in and help me while I ran to the bathroom to rinse them.

Who drops a bottle of bleach in the middle of their dining room?

We got it cleaned up and hung up all the rags to dry.  I didn’t discover until later that I had ruined my bicycle jacket and also one red pioneer outift, including bonnet. If only I had a store, I could hang the outfit on the door, pretty side out, and not have to worry about anyone stealing it.

By the time Kelly left, I was toast after two days of working alongside her. Yesterday I rode bikes and walked dogs with her daughter, but today all I did was work work, work. I never even made it over to see my sister.

I asked my son to go find a Tofurkey for himself and his sister since they won’t eat the real thing. I sat down and watched Ellen and waited for people to come buy some more dishes off my dining room table.  Another friend came over to pick up seven pictue books for her seven great nieces and nephews.

Now I am telling the world about my crappy day (except the walk with my friend Tess). But the good part is that my friend Elaine in Georgia heard about the 80 people who robbed the Walnut Creek Nordstrom’s on Saturday night ten miles from me — it made national news. She texted me, and we had a nice texting session for a while. I told her I’m going to be a grandma. We reminisced about a Thanksgiving we spent together back in the 80s. We talked about our six adult children.

It’s the little stuff that can save the day, especially when you drop a whole bottle of bleach in your dining room.

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