Monday arranged the most appropriate weather
possible, driving rain and clammy conditions reminiscent of March. That’s the “great”
thing about New England weather, the perfect summer of Sunday is paid for with
days like yesterday. At least being a Monday squashed any day dreaming of time
better spent out of doors.
The packing frenzy continues at home,
my wife had me pick up another lode of boxes on my way home. I returned to find
Buddy confined to his kennel with a satisfied but extremely guilty look on his
face. I found my wife spitting mad about having to share her lunch with the Wonder
Pooch. She left a pan with her chicken dinner on the counter while she went
into another room – rookie mistake. Buddy had the entire thing on the floor and
consumed in a startlingly short time. Buddy’s counter climbing prowess while ably
demonstrated once again resulted in a very P.O’d Panamanian on his tail very
quickly – hence the sentence to solitary confinement.
Once she settled down and caught her
breath from recounting “my” dog’s malfeasance we got to work on packing the
kitchen up. During our many military moves the professional packers always seemed
to dislike packing the kitchen out the most. I now understand their reticence.
Kitchens are full of never ending cupboards with mostly breakable items. Since
most of the stuff is fragile my wife has kept me far away from most of it. I
was called in yesterday to cull the liquor cabinet. We don’t drink hard liquor,
outside of the rum swizzles from our recent Bermudian sojourn. I can’t remember
the last time I had a drink of anything harder than beer. That means over the years
with the many parties we’ve hosted a fairly prodigious amount of alcohol was
acquired which remained untouched in our cupboard – until last night.
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| What I Sued to Clean Out Pipes Last Night |
Some of the liquor dated back to our
military days and I remember seeing it packed up several times which means
almost twenty years old. I’m sure that’s good for some type liquor but definitely
not all. I’m here to tell you that daiquiri mix does not age well. I base this
opinion upon the smell of the liquid from the bottles I did cull from the herd
last night as it disappeared down the kitchen sink drain. My wife added a
gallon bottle of soy sauce which completed the olfactory extravaganza. Even
Buddy, freed from incarceration, avoided the kitchen for a while – a true
first.
We finally corralled the Cali-daughter
and her expanding baby bump long enough to get some advice on artifacts
uncovered during the excavations in her old room. Using FaceTime she was able
to visually inspect the items and decree which could be consigned to the dumpster.
The movie posters from every Kevin Spacey film ever made did not make the cut
so that fascination might finally be waning.
One of the employees haunted Sunday with
a professional camera and posted a bunch of photos. He was apparently
fascinated with my dunk tank ensemble. Here are a few of those:
Some might remember that I wrote a
little over a year ago about the ground breaking for a new facility which we
should be moving into next year. The site is a brownfield with some serious
remediation that’s been going on ever since that groundbreaking. It was the
site of 19th century coal tar plant and EPA regs were noticeably
absent during that time. They’ve finally trucked most of the hazardous material
away and the building is starting to rise from the ground, see photos below:
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