Sunday, October 14, 2018

Sunday

Late, very late into Saturday evening, our bathroom counter looked like this:


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I know I promised not to post pictures of chores, but repair work on the broken shower so defined the day for Ed (and therefore for me), that I couldn't help myself.

And then, close to midnight, something gave way and something else fell into place (I can provide you with no better details than that) and boom! The shower head once again released water and the handle turned and magically, when it was on hot, the water came out hot and when it was on cold, the water came out cold.

You don't appreciate such fantastic luxuries until they're suddenly snatched away from you.

Of course, it took me the better part of Sunday morning to scrub that shower clean. So why not just scrub the whole bathroom, the whole house in fact, and get that shine back into our small piece of heaven here?



By the time the house is clean enough even for my standards, it is noon.

We sit down for breakfast. I stick my bowl of oats into the microwave. Two minutes later it's stone cold.

Ed, I think the microwave is not working again...

(Eventually, I do cook those oats one way or another and we do eat our now no longer morning meal...)


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And what do we do with the rest of this dismally gray and cold day? Yep, we fiddle with the microwave. That is, Ed searches the internet for a new control panel (or in the alternative, a used microwave on Craigslist, because this one is no longer manufactured and no one, no one wants to tear it out of its bracket under the stove in order to put in something new and different). I go back to tidying. There is always more to tidy.

In the end I tell Ed, using my most convincing voice: you are not going sailing until we come up with a fix for the microwave problem!

(This is somewhat silly, since right now, he is not going sailing because for reasons that are unknown to Ed and the sailing crew, the boat is not ready to be moved, so my threat is rather idle.)

Being a guy who looks for the simple solutions in life, Ed walks over to the sheep shed and brings his mini microwave from there as a temporary replacement. So now our kitchen looks terribly cluttered, what with two microwaves. I'm shaking my head in dismay. Ed puts a nice ceramic bowl that we had purchased together in Portugal on top of his microwave and proclaims (clearly trying to win me over) that the whole effect is rather European.


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Sunday evening. The young family does not come tonight, as they have another social obligation. I cook for just the two of us. On a cool gray day, simmering up a pot of butternut squash soup and tossing a salad with some farmhouse eggs is pretty near perfect. Not very photographable, but perfect nonetheless.


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Late, late into the night, Ed and I make up a grocery list of foods he'd like to have on board the boat (based on what the shore front store has in stock). The captain is asking for such details, making us think that maybe the trip is imminent. Maybe.