Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Cruel Monday

Monday, O Monday!

Why were you so cruel to me!

The last two Monday's have been really mean, once to Mike and now to me, and since Mike won't let me tell his story, I'll tell you mine — the long way around, of course.

Mike has been working really hard to get the living room done. We spray painted Tibetan Orange on two walls, stood back, and looked at it.

"I hate the streaks the spray gun is leaving," Mike stated and I could hear it in his voice.

"It's not so bad when the light isn't shinning on it," I console.

"I'm just going to roll the other two walls," Mike stated. "Give that sprayer to Kevin or throw it away!"

Mike rolled the opposing walls in a tan-ish color called Basketry and since it didn't need to have any brush trim work, it didn't take him very long to roll it. Then it was time to hook up lights and outlets.

"Let's do the three-way first," Mike said. He doesn't understand how three-way switches work so he doesn't like to do them and Mike always completes the hardest task first.

"Where's the diagram?" I asked. And that's how we do three-way switches in this house, with a diagram printed from the internet.

"Over on the work table."

I got the diagram and together we got the living room three-way switch wired up. When it came time to turn on the breaker and test the light, it didn't work.

We checked our wiring job, we re-checked out wiring job, it still wouldn't work. "Maybe the bulb is bad?"

We took the bulb out and tried it in a different light. It worked fine.

"Maybe a wire came off when we were wiring the light?" I queried.

Mike got the ladder out and checked the wires that went to the light. "There is a wire out." He took the wire nut off, put all the wires together, and put the wire nut back on. I turned the breaker back on, we flipped the switch, and it still didn't work.

"Are we sure we have power?" Mike asked.

"The tester said we did."

"Well, that tester'll pick up current from wires that are close by. I'll get the other tester, it's more accurate."

In the first place, don't ask me why we have a tester that doesn't work right, and in the second place, don't ask me why we weren't using the good one in the first place!

Mike got out the 'other' tester and set it to detect the electrical current in the wire he touches. "Okay, turn the breaker on."

I went to the electric panel and turned on the breaker.

"Nope!" Mike called from the other room. "Are you sure you turned on the right breaker?"

"It was the one I had shut off," I yelled on my way back to the living room.

"Are all the breakers on?"

"Uh-uh." Some of the rooms were wired but the receptacles weren't in yet, so the breakers were off.

"Let's turn them all on."

I turned on every breaker in the box and there still wasn't any power coming to the switch we were working on.

"I'm just sure I ran the power from that recept up to the switch," Mike said pointing to the left side of the room.

"Maybe you ran the power from the other direction?" I suggested pointing to the right wall.

With the tester in hand we tested the outlets in the other wall and found where the power came in. "If I ran it that way," Mike said, "I have to put all the outlets in before it'll work."

Mike ran each wall on a separate breaker but the outlets, or receptacles, are daisy chained together. That means it comes in on one side of the outlet and out the other to feed the next outlet in line. "Okay," I told Mike. "Let me know when that's done and I'll come back and help."

Mike gets all the outlets in, faceplates on, and called me in to help. "Okay, let's try it now."

I turned on the breaker for that wall, and.....

It still didn't work!

"What in the world is going on!" Mike exclaimed. "Let's see if we have power to the switch... I mean, we should have, but let's check." He got out his little doodad and we started at the switch, no power. We went to the next outlet, no power, and the next, no power there either, nor at the next one either. The first one, where the power came in, is the only one that worked.

We stood back and looked at the wall. Mike had an outlet every five feet so there would never be any reason to have an extension cord. "Extension cords cause fires," he says. There was a big blank spot on the wall. "Did I miss an outlet?" he wondered.

"I wondered that too." I noticed it when we were painting but I thought since the furnace was right there that he decided to do away with the outlet closest to it.

Mike took the tester and ran it along the wall where there should have been an outlet. Beep-beep-beep! said the tester.

"There it is," said Mike.

We measured, marked, and cut a hole. "Yep! There's an outlet there."

Mike finished cutting out the box and wired the outlet. I flipped the breaker and before we did anything else, Mike checked all the outlets for power, and everything was powered.

"Let's try the light now."

Mike went to one end of the room and flipped the switch.....

Success! The light came on. From the other side of the room I flipped my switch and the light went off. Yay! After everything we went through, it finally worked just the way it's supposed to.

The next step was to get some of our stuff from the way-back. We got the couch and brought it up to our staging area where we vacuumed the upholstery, washed the wooden parts, and put it in place. Then end tables, a coffee table, a bookcase, and a desk.

"Let's get the grandfather clock next," Mike said.

Mike got the wheeler, carefully loaded the clock, and he pushed while I guided him through the maze of the way-back.

Somewhere along the line, one of the mirrors on the back of our grandfather clock was broken. Looking it over I said, "I think we're going to have to take the back off to get the mirror out."

"You think so?" Mike asked.

"I do. Unless you can see something I don't see."

After trying several Philips screwdrivers, Mike settled on the one he thought would work the best. I watched as he grunted. Those screws were in really tight and it was all Mike could do to get them out. I don't think I'd have been strong enough to do it. Why are they in so tight? I wondered but didn't say anything. We paid a lot of money for this clock 20 years ago and I chalked it up to good workmanship.

Mike got the screws out of the bottom and worked his way up. I stood by collecting the little screws in a cup so they wouldn't get lost. All of a sudden....

CRASH! tinkle-tinkle, went something glass as it hit the concrete floor.

I peaked around to the front. "The center one fell out!" I exclaimed in utter disbelief.

Mike stopped what he was doing and went around front to assess the situation. I was afraid the only remaining mirror panel would slip and fall too, so I carefully pulled the back panel away, slipped my fingers inside and held it in place.

Mike opened the door and reached for a piece of broken mirror. As his fingers pushed against the back, it released the tension holding the broken mirror in place and in an instant, it slid across and chopped my fingers.

"OWWW!" I screamed. I lifted the mirror and looked at the gashes on the back of two of my fingers. It took a second or two, then the blood started.

Poor Mike. He felt just awful! He ran to the other room and got me some paper towels. "Put pressure on it," he advised.

After a few minutes we looked at my fingers. "Let's go," Mike said.

"Where?"

"To the emergency room. You need stitches."

"I don't know if they'll stitch it. The cuts are at an angle so it kinda flaps over. Let's just put a band-aid on it."

"I think you need to get stitches."

I picked up the blood-soaked paper towels and inspected the cuts. It was kinda gross. (I have pictures!) "Well, maybe we'll just go see the family doctor."

I called the doctor. "I cut my fingers, can I come over and have one of the doctors look at it."

"If you're cut that bad, just go to the emergency room," the receptionist said.

"I don't want to go to the emergency room, I don't have insurance, and it's ten times more expensive than an office call."

"If you need stitches, they're just going to send you to the emergency room anyway."

"Okay then," I said, grudgingly thanked her, and hung up. I relayed the conversation to Mike who was standing close by.

"What good is a family doctor then?" he asked, but I had no answer.

So —

Off to the ER we went.

On the ride over to Towanda, Mike expressed his regret. "I wish I'd gotten hurt instead of you," he said.

And I sat there, thankful it was me and not him. I'm so much less a baby about this stuff than he is. "Look, maybe getting my fingers cut was a blessing in disguise. If my fingers hadn't been there to stop the mirror, who knows what could've happened," and I made a chopping motion down my side. Considering that my fingers were at chest height, and I was standing close to the clock, the mirror could have made a huge gash down my belly and bare leg (I had shorts on) before crashing to the floor. "My guts could've been all over the floor!" I blurted out the picture my head had made.

As we rode in silence I recalled the story of the Two Traveling Angels. Author Unknown.

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.

When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem." The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel, "How could you have let this happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him. The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die."

"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied. "When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it. Then last night as we slept in the farmer's bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem."

At the ER they checked me in and Dr. Sebastian looked at it. "You need stitches," he said. "But first, I numb it."

Numbing my fingers was the most painful part of this whole adventure! It hurt like the dickens! It brought tears to my eyes. "Have you ever put stitches in before," I asked.

Without missing a beat, Dr. Sebastian says, "No, you're my first."

I laughed and he laughed.

"I'm going to blog about this," I told Doc. "Is it okay if I take pictures?"

"Sure!" he said.

I watched as he put five stitches in my index finger. I inspected his work. "My poor fingers," I said. Then I turned to Mike, "I think I'm gonna cry."

I turned back and watched as the doctor made the first stitch in the cut on my middle finger. The needle poked through one side of the cut and out the other. The doctor made a neat knot, pulled it tight, and snipped it free from the needle.

And my stomach flip-flopped.

I swallowed hard.

I watched as he made another stitch.

My stomach flop-flipped and I wondered if I was going to be sick.

Another stitch...

And my stomach was feeling really bad. "I think I need to lay down."

Dr. Sebastian was immediately on alert. "Lay down," he said and indicated the bed I was sitting on the end of.

He didn't need to tell me twice! I got my head on the pillow and my feet up. It just felt wrong to have my shoes on the bed, but I guess it's okay in the ER.

"How you feel now?" he asked after a minute or two.

"Much better."

He moved the table around to the side and finished sewing up my finger.

After he was done, the RN, Jill, came in and gave me a tetanus shot, a prescription for an antibiotic and one for pain, if I needed it.

"This is for Tramadol," Jill said. "It didn't use to be a prescription pain reliever but it is now. If you don't want to spend the money for it, Motrin will work just as well." She went on and gave me instructions on taking care of my fingers. "Keep them dry for 24 hours, then you can get them wet, just don't soak them and don't rub at them either, just pat dry."

"Darn! That means I can't do dishes!"

"Or vacuuming or laundry," Jill added.

"Really!" I was surprised to hear that!

She looked up at me, smiled, and winked. Her back was to Mike and she mouthed the word 'no'. She continued. "If it starts bleeding, draining, or gets pus-y, or you see red streaks up the back of your hand, get in here or to your doctor. In 10 days you go to your family doctor and have the stitches taken out."

And I was released.

"Boy! You'd do anything for a story," Mike joked on the way out to the Jeep.

I laughed. "Well you won't let me tell your story!" Then I brought up something that was on my mind. "Mike, unless I see that I have a problem, I'm not going to the doctor to have my stitches taken out."

"Who's going to take them out?"

"You!"

"Not me!"

"Then I'll get Stephanie Robinson to do it. I bet she would."

"How are your fingers now?" you ask.

They're great! They don't hurt, they're healing nicely, and two of the eleven stitches came undone on their own so I pulled them out.

The next day, Mike laid the clock down and finished taking the back off. Who'd ever have guessed that the back was the only thing holding the mirror panels in place! Obviously not us or we'd have laid it down to begin with! He measured for two replacement mirrors now, instead of one. "I think Arrow cuts mirrors," Mike said and on Wednesday we drove over to Wysox.

"Oh no, we don't cut mirrors here. There's a place uptown in Towanda that does. I forget the name of it but it's right on the corner."

"Fairchild's?" Mike asked.

"Yeah! That's it!"

"They haven't been open for a couple of years now."

Back in the Jeep Mike gives me the news. "They don't do mirrors. You want to head to the place over near Tunkhannock?"

"Sure." I was up for a ride, plus he promised me lunch.

On the way past the train yard, I took pictures of graffiti.

At PPG Glass, they cut mirrors but didn't have the size we needed. "There's a place in Wilkes-Barre that does it," he told Mike and gave him the name and phone number.

I called.

They were open, they cut mirrors, she gave me directions as well as an address for the GPS, she would double check to make sure she had the size we needed, and she'd call me back. In the meantime, we headed that way.

I got a couple of barn photos for you.

Sandy called me back, "Peggy?"

"Yes, hi Sandy."

"We have the size you need in stock."

"Okay, we're headed that way. We'll see you in a little while."

"We close from 12 to 12:30 for lunch," Sandy told me.

Our GPS calculated our time of arrival at just after 12. "We might just as well stop and have our lunch," Mike suggested.

And we stopped at McDonalds.

"EWWWW!" I hear some of you say. "I never eat at McDonalds!"

Well, it's actually on my diet so I was happy to keep my calories in check. I had a McDouble, plain, and a parfait which is yogurt and fruit and only 99 cents.

We arrived at the glass shop about 12:25 and we thought we'd wait in the car for a few minutes, then the door opened, a woman stepped out and propped it open, so we went on in. We ordered the two pieces of mirror we needed and Sandy said she thought it would be about half an hour, if we wanted to come back.

"We'll wait," Mike told her. We didn't know the area or have any place to go.

During our wait we chatted with Sandy and I got a photo and a quote for my Human's page. She had lots of stories and was very interesting.

All too soon our mirrors were cut and we were on our way home. Later the same day Mike got the new mirrors put in, the back on and I went to work cleaning all the glass, including the eight glass shelves. Someday I might even be able to find the knick-knacks that used to live in there.

I have more stories to tell but time has gotten away from me. How about some pictures to wrap this up.

Teasel with a Silver-spotted Skipper and two bees on it. I've had lavender colored teasel here before but this year white is the only one I've seen.

I only got one shot of this grasshopper on yarrow. Luckily, it was pretty decent.

My shop window acquired some glow-in-the-dark skeletons.

The vine I was letting grow on my kennel-garden fence has started to bloom.

Is that Japanese knotweed? I wondered. I didn't need that growing over everything. It's invasive and kills off the local plants. I reached down and broke his stem. The next day I Googled it and guess what? It's not Japanese knotweed, it's Bur Cucumber. I guess I should have checked first and broke second.

We had a small storm come through and knock one of our trees onto the road. Steph Robinson was on her way home and called us, but before we got there someone else had hooked a chain to it and drug it out of the road.