I rose late today. Very late.
I went to bed late – and it is the week before the 4th of July. Which means that all the tweakers, teens and pre-teens that could muster the where-with-all had purchased fireworks.
One completely safe area, where few object, to the setting off of fireworks, is the ball field.
Last night the game started at Nine P.M. to beat the heat, so the light were.
After the game, fireworks.
The ball field happens to be across the street from This Old House.
I got to sleep late.
As I’ve said; I rose late today. I grunched about and thought I’d put off cleanliness in favor of coffee, so I did. I was into my third cup when Housekeeper drove up.
So I met Housekeeper at the door and I stood there. All I could think to say was: “Today’s your day, huh?”
She stands there in the sun light holding her broom, mop and dust pan in one hand, carrying the vacuum in the other, and looks at me with that critical eye of hers without speaking – then she says: “You need a haircut and you need to shave. You know that? Get a haircut and shave. Be somebody. You look like a hobo.”
“I haven’t showered for three days.”
“I won’t be staying long in that case.”
“I’ll stay outside while you’re here.”
“You do that.”
“K. Well, come on in.”
“Why don’t you get out of the doorway so I can?”
“Wha . . ?” and so I moved out of the firing line, so to speak.
I don’t think the coffee was working yet. But, I didn’t stay outdoors while she was working. Although the conversation and stories swapped seemed to revolve about water mostly.
I even helped her carry her tools out to her car.
She loaded up and hopped in, rolling down the window.
And she said: “I’m serious. You need a shave and a haircut.”
“X – POW”, right in the kisser, know one of these days, Housekeeper. “Right in the Kisser.”
“Shave,” she says, laughing as she drives off. “And get a hair cut.”
My raised fist was a pathetic attempt for superiority, and it failed – right in the Kisser.
“And you might think of a shower before I come back.”
I’m thinking about putting air-conditioning in the house. Five days of hundred degree temps is a bit much.
From the reaches,