Just Gone

 

          It’s gone! Just gone!

          “What is?” you ask.

          The week! A whole week of my life (and yours) is gone! And I hope you have more to show for it than I do.

          We’ve undertaken a new project. After living here for almost eight years, we’ve saved enough to put the carpet in. We’ve been living with old (and not the prettiest), used carpets that came out of our stores in Lake Ozark and it’s served us well all these years. In fact, after we take it out of here it will still serve us. Mike’s going to put some on the patio and maybe some will find its way onto the garage floor. It’s commercial grade so it’s mold and rot resistant.

          Mike measured.

          Mike moved things around.

          Mike hurt his shoulder.

          A couple of days later, which was Monday, Mike wanted to get the sub-floor.

          “I checked this morning,” Mike said, “and Lowe’s doesn’t have enough. Let’s go and get the baseboards anyway.”

          The baseboards are at a discount builder in Waverly, New York, which is just across the street from Sayre.

          We took Big Red out because a dozen 16-foot by 5 1/2-inch-wide boards won’t fit in the Encore. Heck, we couldn’t even get one in unless we cut it into four-foot pieces!

          We stopped at Walmart and got a couple of things.

          “Let’s just stop at Lowe’s and check,” Mike suggested.

          We got lucky. Lowe’s had just gotten two bunks of sub-flooring in and it wasn’t in the computer yet. We put our order in for the guys to bring us 32 sheets, paid for it, and brought
Big Red up to the loading area. Then we waited.

          “I forgot to get the felt paper,” Mike said.

          “I’ll wait here for the guys while you run in and get it.”

          They still hadn’t brought the subfloor by the time Mike came out pushing a cart with two rolls of felt paper.

          “I hurt my shoulder putting it in the cart,” he said.

          Twenty minutes more pass.

By this time, Mike’s arm hurt so bad he could hardly move it.

          There was a miscommunication, Mike found out when he went in to check. The man didn’t understand we needed more than he had on the shelf.

          And we waited some more.

          Mike went back in. “They went on break,” he said.

          We ended up waiting for almost an hour before the forklift appeared from around the side of the building.

          I took more pictures of houses on the way through Waverly.

          And other road pictures.   

          Something else we did this week was take Bondi in for her yearly checkup and renewal of heartworm meds. Mike took a different road so I took more road pictures.

          Bondi is fine. A little fat maybe, but aren’t we all? I was waiting to check out when a guy was checking in at the opposite end of the office.

          “I’ve got Scout here,” he said.

          “We don’t have an appointment for Scout,” the gal said.

          “I made it months ago.” It didn’t take him long to go from nice to agitated.

          “What’s the last name?”

          He told her and she tapped a few keys on the keyboard.

          “We called three times to confirm your appointment and you didn’t confirm it,” she told him.

          “I couldn’t confirm it. I don’t get home before you close at five.”

          “You could’ve left a message,” she said.

          “So, I don’t have an appointment?” Now he was really aggravated.

          “No sir. If you don’t confirm it then we cancel it. It’s our policy.”

          “Wait a minute,” Mama chimed in. “When we make an appointment, it sticks unless we cancel it!” She was upset, too.

          “Can I reschedule it for you?” the receptionist politely asked.

          “Just give me a copy of his shot record and I’ll go someplace else!” he stormed.

          I grinned to myself. I totally understood where he was coming from. I was him — have been him!

“He’ll be back when he finds out there aren’t many other vets in the area,” I predicted. “He’ll be sorry and you’ll be nice.”

          “We’ve had it happen too many times where people forget, or they go to the hospital, or something else happens and they can’t keep their appointment. That’s why we call to confirm.”

          I could tell she was feeling really bad. “Maybe he just wanted to be cranky. I’m that way sometimes,” I told her.

          I was in and out before our scheduled appointment. I think I got the appointment only because he didn’t confirm.

>>>*<<<

I was playing ball with Raini one day. I didn’t go the whole way out in the yard and bounce it off the side of the house, instead, I stood on the patio and tossed it out into the yard for her.

Movement from the roof of the old chute caught my eye. It was Backie! He heard us and poked his head up.

What in the world is he standing on? I couldn’t figure it out so I walked over to look. It’s a cross brace.

>>>*<<<

All week long Mike was moving stuff out of the two rooms where we will be putting the subfloor down. I tried to encourage him to take time off and rest his arm but he assured me he was taking it easy on his sore shoulder. Mike’s like Raini. When he wants something done, he powers through the pain.

          We got everything unloaded from Big Red and onto the front patio. Afterward, we had enough energy left over to put down two rows. Since the weekend was upon us, we put back the TV, cat tower, and recliners for the weekend. Actually, they can stay there now until we call for the carpet.

>>>*<<<

          I didn’t do much in the line of painting. I had talked about doing a daily painting but if I’m busy with other things, it gets put aside. The idea behind daily painting is to practice both my watercolor skills and freehand drawing. I did a jar of blossoms freehand, outlined in ink, and I know my flowers could use more detail.

          I did it on the watercolor pad Mike got me instead of painting in my old book.

          “I like the words in your book,” my cute little redheaded sister says. “It gives it character.”

          I can freehand — or at least I used to be able to.

          Back in the 80s I did all my work freehand. Here’s a battle scene I copied from another artist’s work. It’s in black ink (the kind you dip a pen into) and all freehand.

          With the advent of printers, it's a lot easier and faster to just transfer the image. Nonetheless, I’ve been contemplating sketching — making my own original art. Heaven knows I’ve got plenty of photos to work from and thanks to my beautiful Miss Rosie, I’ve got a fancy-schmancy sketch pad. Here’s my first sketch. No erasing. Extra lines give it charm.

          Let’s call this one done.