My day yesterday:
Mowed the front yard. We have a large front yard, it’s hilly and, of course, filled with ruts from all the work done earlier this year. This took quite a while. I was tuckered out, especially since I’d mowed the rest of the property the day before. We have just under 2 irregular, hilly acres.
Cleaned the bathroom(s).
Don went to work.
I decided it was time to put the window air conditioner in our bedroom, because the fan just wasn’t doing it for me. This involves going out to the shed, putting the air conditioner on a trolley, rolling it across the yard, and then moving it upstairs one step at a time because it’s heavy. Put it back on trolley, and move it to the bedroom. Take out screen, lift air conditioner and try to maneuver it into position, praying that I don’t drop it. Get it in place.
Decide that since we are having guests on Wednesday who will be staying in our spare room, I’d better put that air conditioner in, too. Go back out to shed, load the trolley, etc. Get it in the house and transport it up the stairs (same method.) Take it into the extra bedroom/studio/office and get ready to put it in the window we usually put it in. The window doesn’t work right. It’s off kilter. The guides are screwed up. Much cursing ensues. It’s hot and humid and I’m not in a good mood. Finally get the window temporarily closed after using screw driver and hammer. Move to other window. Hoist air conditioner up and put it in place.
Eat a piece of rhubarb snacking cake.
Go down to kitchen. For some reason, I decide to check the amount of BTUs on that air conditioner because it’s exactly the same as the one in our bedroom and I know one of them has more BTUs the other. The label says 5000 BTUs. Go back upstairs, check that label. 8000 BTUs. Drat. I’d put the wrong air conditioner in the kitchen window about 3 weeks ago. The kitchen AC needs more BTUs because it cools the whole kitchen and living room area. I’m going to have to switch them out.
Realize I’m a maniac and should leave it until tomorrow. I can’t.
Turn off air conditioner. Pull it out of the window. Forget to tip it to drain the water out. A lot of water drips onto the kitchen floor. Curse. Tilt it outside the window, like I should have to begin with. Clean up floor. Start to lug the air conditioner across the kitchen, through the living room and to the stairs.
Smell something. Riley, who has become incontinent more often than not because of the progressive disease that has weakened his spine and muscles, has pooped in the den. Stop with the air conditioner move. Clean up mess. Spray air freshener. Take Riley outside. Clean him up. Bring him back in. Resume moving AC. Start lugging the AC up the stairs, step by step.
Take AC out of bedroom window. Replace it with other AC. (My back is screaming at this point. I’m sweating and periodically cursing.) Take the recently removed AC to the stairs and move it back downstairs, one step at a time. Back momentarily seizes up. Stretch. Sigh. Keep going. Reach the bottom. Lug it across the living room, through the kitchen and install it in the kitchen window.
Eat a piece of rhubarb snacking cake.
Put everything away in the shed, including the lawnmower.
Drink some lemonade. Think about another piece of rhubarb snacking cake.
Change clothes. Throw sweaty clothes into the washer.
Know that Don is going to say exactly what he did say, “Why didn’t you wait for me to help you?”
Because I’m nuts.
And because you took the time to read all of this, I’ll add one more Catalpa photo.
