The Ongoing Saga of You Can Wash This or What I Did on Sunday Afternoon The afternoon was gray, much like the morning before it, with very little to distinguish the passing of time, no shadows moved, no shift of dark to light, only the witness of tasks completed, meals eaten, dogs walked within the space of a this day. Outside the window, above the dingy white half curtains, some color was splashed across the sky by the old oak, fall color provided by this red oak was gold and russet. I turned and checked the bathtub, the rush of hot water coming from the old spigot, the water did not ruffle up much foam, despite the addition of dish soap, maybe because of the white vinegar added as well. The fragrance wafted up, while the water rumbled, and the mix of light vinegar and Dawn soap brought to mind afternoons washing windows, one pane after another until all the rags were soaked and hung out in the sunlight and the views through the glass was crystalline. The tub was nearly full now. I slammed off the reluctant valve and went on to the next step. The red plastic case was easy to open with two quick snaps and I pulled out the driver and plugged it in, set in a Phillips head and tightened the chuck. My fans were waiting. I grabbed the first, laid it flat on the floor and set to removing the tiny screws, one after another, dashing them into the empty soap dish, like the sounds of tiny bullet casings dropping in the sound track of a cheap movie. Both faces off now, I stood and dropped them into the tub and heard them seethe as they sunk into the hot water….
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 01:47:06 +0000
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