Ray's House of Love (Volume II)

Uh-oh, is it cleaning weekend? I may have to fake being sick or something.

Wanna hear some great news? The contractor says he will finish today, except for replacing the glass globe on the light which broke when they installed it. We're waiting on the replacement.

I will be home alone again!

Maryn, out of coffee already

And now the bad news. When he lifted the cardboard to clear out, one of the tiles came up. He has to reattach it, and it needs two days to cure, so he can't buff the floor and be done today after all.

Sigh...

Maryn, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel

The typical summer temperatures of a lot of the US makes we marvel at the hardiness of those who settled there in the first place, before there was AC.

Watching the news coverage of the heat wave in the southwest, Mr. Maryn has finally agreed that I'm right, we will not move to Arizona when he retires. Since I'd have refused to go, I guess that's a good thing.

We have a cool moist day here, so far with steady rain. Mr. Maryn says we're going walking at some point today, rain or not. Might be okay, and it usually means the paths will be near-empty.

Maryn, who's been wet before

At present, with our glorious nearly-finished new bathroom, we'll stay here and just not go outside five months a year. That's pretty reasonable, right?

Maryn, who shovels snow without complaint

I'll take the books. Just box 'em up and send 'em west. I'll find them.

Maryn, who loves her some books

I hear you on those full shelves. I've doubled up paperbacks, two rows one behind the other, on every shelf. But I have a stack perhaps three feet high with no place to go.

And now our daughter's moving, giving me back all the books I loaned her, and some of her own I might like. Gaaaah!

I need one of those multi-story libraries with the rolling ladder. And a stuffy butler.

Maryn, who's never been buttled

Piles of mail. Yeah, that's us, too.

Maryn, whose cool little table is always covered

I'd say 90% of ours is advertising or requests for money from charities, politicians, religious groups, etc. My mother in law has been dead for a decade, my father in law twice that, but we still get requests for money several times a week for both of them.

In the last year, the horrible calls for my MIL have stopped. She never lived here, so when someone asks for Mrs. H---, I assume they mean me, since that's my name, too. Until they wonder if I forgot that I'd pledged $25 to Help Rush Limbaugh Promote Hate or Support that Religious Belief which Isn't Yours.

It really bothered me that these people were just fine with outright lies, since the dead don't pledge money. For years I told them she was dead and to remove her form their lists, and some did, but some did not. (Guideposts magazine was the worst.) So I tried a new tactic, making myself sound upset. "She's dead. Dead! I tell you that every time you call. And just when I think I can finally move on, you people call again, and--" At which point I burst into noisy hysterical sobs.

Maryn, not much of an actress, but good enough

Why, yes, I just made a pitcher of booze-laden something, already beaded with condensation because it's that cold. Shall I pour you a tall one or a short?

Maryn, who could use one, too