Autumn is the time to look back on all the things left undone during the cold, bleak temporary death of winter. Don’t forget to examine the tasks forgotten during the wonderful, warm days and comfortable evenings of Spring. While you’re at it, think about the little chores swept under the rug during the miserable, sweltering inferno called summer. Time to put some order into life.
Looking up, it’s easy to see plants growing in the rain gutters around the edge of the house. How long has it been since you hauled that flimsy, rickety ladder out, climbed up the creaking, dry rotted rungs and fished that black, putrid gunk out? It had to be during the Obama presidency, maybe Bush, not the first Bush, though, probably not the first Bush. Clinton at the worst. This is going to take some heavy-duty rubber gloves, not the flimsy little gloves they use on the mechanic shows on that odd television station up in the four hundreds. No, you need those indestructible orange gloves the ladies used on the dishwasher detergent commercials from the seventies. Durable, ugly and all the way up the elbow. Put that on the little sticky note pad on the side of the refrigerator that your wife is supposed to check before she makes a shopping list. It will be a couple of weeks before she remembers to look, plenty of time to add “Ice Cream Sandwiches,” “Chocolate Chip Cookies” and “A Cake.” Cleaning the gutters won’t seem so bad if you have cake, and it’s two or three weeks from now.
All those hedges and bushes around the house are beginning to look like a backdrop from Jumanji. Spiky, overgrown, and out of control. God knows what kind of wildlife has moved into the Burning Bush by the driveway. There are strange noises coming from deep inside the impenetrable depths. Deep, growling, snarling noises that gurgle with an odor of ammonia, decay, and sulfur. No point in digging out the trimmers until you call a wildlife expert, or an exorcist.
Dishes are piling up, the carpet needs vacuumed, and dust has settled everywhere, a fine gray powder resembling a shroud. The bathtub drips, a constant tattoo that echoes up and down the hall, night and day pounding on your subconscious, wearing away your will to resist. You are now willing to divulge troop strength, location and disposition. If you had any idea what any of that meant, and anybody cared.
It’s time to roll up your sleeves, tie up your hair, and buckle down to the business of life. ‘
On the other hand, it’s cool, overcast and calm. You renewed the license on the kayak, and the open water of the lake is calling. You haven’t been paddling since last summer, and you deserve a little something, just for surviving.
All this work will be here next weekend. Why rush, what’s your hurry?
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
