Yesterday’s Chores

With Christmas growing ever nearer and colder weather just around the corner I tried to catch up on some unfinished chores. Vacuuming the stairs to remove Willow the cat’s long, white, shedded hair was a necessity. She has a habit of claiming several stair treads as her own napping place. The steps were well on their way looking as though they were made of mohair.

While I waited for the frost outside to depart, I wrapped a few more Christmas gifts. Eventually, I will finish and be able to remove Santa’s workshop from the top of my bed and I’ll be able to claim more than one small side of the mattress. As I wrapped the dolls that I’d bought for my three granddaughters, Celine, Moriah, and Hannah, I became upset that the manufacturers decided to save a few cents by not covering the display portion of the dolls with cellophane like they used to do. Trying to cover the dolls, I poked several holes in the paper. They are making the Christmas paper more cheaply as well. It isn’t as strong as it once was. Even with careful folding, the cheaper paper has a tendency to tear.  The old time paper with metal based dyes was much stronger and after underwear and socks were removed from the wadded up and discarded paper, it was impressive to see the flames change color as the bright piles were burned in a fireplace.

When the sparkling frost coating disappeared, a jolly old fat man appeared, carrying several ladders and chimney cleaning supplies. Not clad in a red suit, but navy sweat pants and an old orange hunting jacket, he climbed onto his newly acquired metal roof. Up on the housetop he sprang, carefully and slowly, thrusting the metal pole deep into the recesses of the chimney. Built-up soot and creosote gave way to the determined force of the old man’s probing.

He thought his antics would go unnoticed by his daughters, but alas, one son-in-law driving his black Chevy sleigh spied the jolly old man and of course he reported the old man’s escapades to his spouse. The old man had already been banned from the house roof several times before and now finds himself confined to the doghouse roof.

On the way home from last evening’s writers meeting, Rocky the raccoon made a wild dash from the darkness, trying to cross the road in front of my car. I wasn’t able to stop in time and alas, Rocky is no more. The black plastic from the front of my car has also bit the dust and is no more as well.

The best thing of the entire day was that the wood burner is working great and my house was toasty warm as it welcomed me home.