Every time I start to think, "Maybe I'd write more if I just had a softer chair/LCD monitor/bigger desk," I try to remember that Anna Karenina and all of Shakespeare were written before typewriters. Or electric lights. So what's my excuse?

a banner day in the free-stuff business. Housketeers will know that I can rarely pass an opportunity to acquire something I might use someday, especially if it's free or on clearance. Leaving for the office, I passed Giant House (seen here under construction) just after the HVAC team had left, and spotted piles of flex-duct in the trash bin out front.

I have a ventilation problem in my study (low airflow), so I stopped the car just as the contractor himself appeared out front on his phone.

I am not sure what contractors did all day before the advent of cell phones. In my experience with them, they are either on the phone, or measuring, which means they are about to make a phone call or have just finished one.

So I entered the site and waited a polite distance until he finished talking, then introduced myself and asked if he had plans for the duct scraps. He said no, and I could have anything else in the bin, for that matter, as it all needed to be picked up anyway.

(I should note here that this is a smart contractor. One of the first things he does after the lumber arrives on-site is erect a fence to keep passersby from thinking he runs a charity building-supply store for the whole neighborhood. Smart, but not paranoid; at least he lets the scrap stuff go to people like me.)

His bin overfloweth, the pile of silver duct ends looking as if the Robinson family's robot had crossed Dr. Smith one too many times. No way could I move this stuff home with my sedan, especially not in the time left before work. I reversed to my house (about 180 feet) and returned in the Explorer. And this is how the operation concluded, as seen through Squeeky's lens from the kitchen window:

That she did not lock the doors immediately means she loves me. Right?

That afternoon, Squinx helped me tote the stuff through the house and into the attic. I have enough to do something ridiculous, so I'll report back once I have done so.

we saw the sun this weekend, and all the greenery coughed and sputtered and shook off the water long enough to take in some balance. Heat comes with sun, and our sweat glands took a while to adjust. Hard not to stay inside for that first wave; we have barely seen a day over 90 this year.

Even mice are taking a break. I set two traps in the attic, having heard a high-speed chase going on up there the other night.

The traps are a new type put out by Victor, longtime maker of the old metal-bar-on-wood rodent-capital-punishment dispensers. (These have been around so long, the red "V" printed on them could serve as the international symbol for decapitation.) I was skeptical buying them, remembering the better-mousetrap saw and thinking that plastic is not a good material for killing things. At least not quickly.

My suspicions were confirmed when the little rascals made off with both pieces of raw shrimp. One trap sprung; I am convinced they have learned to operate hand tools.

Squinx has a hard time accepting that mice must be killed to get rid of them. Too much Disney, I fear. So I must explain that real mice don't understand they aren't welcome at Rittenhouse, and remember all that Pink Panther stuff Daddy put in the attic to keep us warm all winter? The mice poop all over it. She accepted the story, though I can tell her heart's not in it.

so it's another day for you and me in paradise, aka the office and some pressing, nighttime freelance work I hope will pay for this month's trip to Arkansas. That will be an undertaking—worst double-entendre I've ever made—to put Dad's ashes back into the ground he inhabited as a boy. As you might imagine, that event will shake me to the core, as I'm leading it and I haven't been back to the farm in more than 20 years. Prayers for me, please. Have yourself a good week.

Posted by: Michael Rittenhouse at 05:43 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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