Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Up there with the cleanout of the fridge, the cleanout of the main shed was pretty damned unpleasant. This had been my father's work shed when I was growing up. Upstairs was a small attic play area where I spent numerous nights of fantasy of places far beyond Lake Charles.
As my father's activities kept him away from home more and more, this shed degenerated into a storage area and home for small furry animals. The garage also became a storage area for large piles of equipment for his contracting work, making it almost impassible for walking, much less parking a car. When he had his stroke, I boxed up and transferred much of this garage material into the shed - discovering the bones of a mother possum and four babies along the way. Somehow, leaves also began settling in this area building up a carpet of humus over the concrete to go with the animal droppings.
Into this scrum I descended armed with shovels and dust masks. Although I had hoped to be able to sort the hardware for potential sale later, the poor condition and intermingling with garbage made the task much too difficult and, ultimately, futile. I dragged and scooped the material into a wheelbarrow loads and hauled most of it to the curb.
With my folks somewhat closer in Kinder, I was able to stay at the house and experience a few peaceful moments of rest and Elysium.
Next: Wednesday, November 2, 2005
Most people who live in New York weren't born here. They come from every country in the world, so they bring with them their own traditions. And one of the traditions is being thin-skinned. (Ed Koch)