So I found myself between jobs — I always thought that was a euphemism for unemployed and planning to stay that way. But no, I was literally between jobs. I no longer worked at my former position and had a week off before my new one started. I would rather have had time off in July so Dave and I would have a full nine days at our camper, but hey, time off is time off — even in February.
I was determined to use it wisely — not waste a minute. Although I admit I did sleep in a few mornings.
For the most part, I dug in on doing those things there’s never time to do. I spent one whole afternoon cleaning the cobwebs off the ceiling in the entire house. Let me just say, whoever thought textured ceilings is a good idea should be slapped — twice.
It was always a nightmare. You can’t just use a dust mop — you get more junk up there than you had to start with. The vacuum works, but the hose is so tightly coiled that I was literally lifting the vacuum off the floor to reach the ceiling. That’s not working for me.
Dave and I had bought a cute little shop vac for five bucks in the summer. I put together all the extensions I could find and topped it off with the little brush attachment.
For the record: All vacuum extensions and attachments should be universal and fit all vacuums regardless of style, manufacturer or decade it was made. Anyway, I was easily able to reach every nook and cranny in every room, except one — the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
I had no available outlet for a three-pronged plug. The only extension cords I could find were two-pronged, unless I drug in a 50-footer from the garage. Nah, the landing can wait for another day.
My next big project involved painting the corner behind the fridge. I had left it unpainted because we couldn’t get the cabinet down by ourselves. There were issues. We couldn’t find the battery to Dave’s drill, we couldn’t find another drill and eventually couldn’t get the screws out even with a drill.
So it stayed until our friend came the next day to put down our new kitchen floor. He had a bigger drill (with a battery) so the cabinet came down like nothing. But there was no time left for me to paint the corner that the cabinet had been blocking.
We got a beautiful new floor in the kitchen, the fridge moved into the spot formerly occupied by the cabinet, among other things, and everyone moved on with their lives. My OCD reminded me every time I went in the kitchen that there was a square of dirty peach paint in that corner.
But our new fridge is a big beautiful behemoth that weighs as much as a ‘53 Buick. The only way we’re moving that thing is empty. So I made a thousand trips loading up the little cooler on wheels and hauling everything out to the coolers and the small chest freezer on the back porch.
We easily slid the fridge out and I was able to paint that dirty peach patch. It felt like finally scratching an itch I hadn’t quite been able to reach. Then I got to make a thousand more trips bringing all the food back in. After wiping down all the shelves, of course, and organizing all the condiment packets into small Ziploc bags of similar items. I also rearranged everything on the door. My OCD streak runs deep.
Painting a 3-foot-by-3-foot square in the kitchen pretty much consumed one whole day of my “vacation.” It seems like I stayed super busy the whole week and didn’t waste a minute, but looking back, I can’t really recall what all I did. Well, except for painting the living room, but that’s a story for another time.
