Going out the back door to the laundry room (small closet) in the breeze-way has never been a problem for me since we moved into this small, small house. But when my back door is blocked by all the plants in the breeze-way because of the cold weather we’ve had, I have to go out the front door and around, and then verrrry carefully, while balancing laundry in one arm, try to get the laundry room door open (that is also partially blocked by those plants) far enough to reach the washing machine. %*#@! That’s when it’s a problem. This was the case this morning, but I held my tongue and persevered.
While making trips to the front of the house with different loads of separated laundry I had to weave in and out among eight boxes of
crap H brought home from the storage unit, a week ago, to sort through. Oh, I’m sorry. I meant to say, “Those eight boxes of prized valuable possessions from when he was in college. “Does anyone need a shoe horn or a box of gauze from 1970? Again, I held my tongue.
I can hold my tongue, but not my thoughts, and he did not want to hear what I was thinking at the moment. I had to get away so I went to the store for a few things, and to my surprise, when I returned, the plants had been moved back out in the sunshine and H was sitting in his chair sorting through those eight boxes!
I still didn’t say anything because, of course, he would have taken it the wrong way. Then he suggested we go to Mary’s kitchen for dinner tonight. I’ve been wanting fried catfish for three days and haven’t said anything!
Hmmmm? Those closet doors and that hall light fixture may be up before I know it! Excuse me while I go think…