Never will I claim to be the most observant of humans. In fact, my husband of nearly 44 years, Studly Doright, is fond of telling me that I have “awareness issues.” I’d disagree with him if he weren’t so right.
Yesterday I wrote about a woman who, while visiting in my home, thought that when I said that I’d just finished my first novel that I meant I’d just finished reading my first novel.
Okay, I get it. I don’t look all that scholarly, but she was in my home, where literally the first thing one sees upon entering Doright Manor is this:
And this:
Look around a bit and you’d see this:
And this:
And even this:
Oh, and then there are my Star Wars books:
And
The dust is real.
Most of my books are on kindle nowadays, but the evidence that I’m a reader is pretty clear. So perhaps I’m not the only one with awareness issues. Maybe we can start a club.
Studly Doright sometimes must travel overnight on business. During the pandemic, though, he was able to be home every night. Company travel was suspended for the last three months. Now that businesses are opening up again, though, he’s had to make up for lost time.
Last night was his first on the road, and I hate to admit that I was kind of looking forward to it. I’d already planned on getting a bit drunk and finishing my novel after determining that too much sober writing was inhibiting the writing process. However, I completed the novel while stone cold sober on Monday morning, so now I had no excuse to get tipsy whilst Studly was away.
I did go to bed later than our usual old people time of 9 p.m., and I read awhile longer before falling asleep. Such a little rebel.
Usually when Studly is away at night I struggle to fall asleep, but I don’t even remember the light of my Kindle fading, so quickly was I in lala land. But around 1 a.m., Scout kitty sauntered into the bedroom meowing loudly.
I knew she had no immediate needs, so I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Scout promply jumped onto the bed, stood by my head, and without warning, puked all over my pillow.
My reflexes took over. I plopped her onto the floor, where she continued retching, and ran to the bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean up her mess. On my way back to the bed, I stepped in the additional cat puke. I said a really awful word before wiping the sole of my foot and returning to the bathroom for a clean wet cloth. This time I thought it wise to turn on the lights fearing there were piles of puke everywhere.
Apparently, though, I’d stepped in the only little pile in our oversized bedroom. What are the odds? Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.
I took the soiled pillow case off of my pillow and wiped the sheet off, then the underlying mattress, but since it was the middle of the night and no one was sleeping on the other side of the bed I figured morning would be soon enough to change the sheets. I’d just take over Studly’s domain.
Once back under the covers I used the Calm app to begin relaxing enough to return to sleep, and I’d almost succeeded when I caught a whiff of cat puke. It was on my shoulder! I jumped out of bed, took off my pajama top and washed my left shoulder before putting on a different top. Fortunately I hadn’t been laying on that side and the sheet wasn’t contaminated.
Back in bed again, I tried to relax, but I began to worry about Scout. After all, I had ejected her from the bed rather violently. What if she was she really sick? After about half an hour of internal debate, I put on my glasses, turned on the lights, and went in search of my 16-year-old baby.
Scout was curled up on the sofa in the den and meowed when she saw me. I apologized for being so abrupt and for calling her a bad name. She followed me back to bed where she couldn’t stop giving me head butts and kitty kisses. She was so apologetic that I couldn’t go back to sleep for at least another hour.
Now, she’s off, happily patrolling the screened-in porch, while I’m preparing to wash the sheets and treat the carpet to a good cleaning. It’s 8:30 a.m., and I’m already looking forward to a nap.
Yesterday (Friday) was the first day in two weeks that Studly Doright and I were able to use the shower in our master bathroom. A water leak in the hot water pipes had us taking sponge baths and ultimately building a temporary shower stall in the garage.
It wasn’t pretty, but Studly had it hooked up directly to the hot water heater, so after nearly a week of sponge baths it felt like heaven.
We’ve now dismantled the structure. There’s no telling what the bits and pieces of our shower will be used for in the future. Let’s just hope they never have to come together to be a shower again. I couldn’t concentrate in there, and the acoustics weren’t great.
My beautiful blogging friend, Shirley Blamey, called me via FaceTime from her home in England this afternoon. Her equally beautiful husband, Michael Steeden, joined us on the call. I absolutely love these two—their wit, wisdom, and encouragement have helped buoy me as I attempt to finish my novel during the pandemic.
We’ve enjoyed several FaceTime calls and I’ve become quite comfortable letting these two wonderful people into my life. So comfortable in fact that as I was engaged in conversation I set about the task of hanging some of my delicates up to dry.
All at once I hear Shirley say, “Are those your knickers?”
For some reason I thought my panties weren’t visible on the screen, but sure enough, those were my knickers. I just hope dear Shirley and Mike aren’t permanently scarred by the sight.
Yesterday I wrote about Studly Doright building us a temporary shower to use until plumbers can fix our water leak. I shared a few photos, but they didn’t include the faucets or the handy accessories he added.
Notice we have a faucet for cold water and one for hot.He also added a shelf for soap and shampoo.And he placed one of the boards at a height that will allow me to shave my legs.
One of the most unexpectedly fun parts of having a shower in the garage is the weirdness of being naked in a place where I’ve never been naked before. So, I’m weird and maybe a closeted exhibitionist. At least I’m clean.
When I began writing posts for this blog I needed a nickname for my husband. The first one to pop into my head was Studly Doright, based on a cartoon character from my childhood.
Dudley Do Right, not to be confused with Studly Doright.
But also in the running was some version of MacGyver after the tv series about a man named MacGyver who, week after week had to solve some problem or series of problems in order to triumph over evil.
The original MacGyver, Richard Dean Anderson. My oh my.
Since I couldn’t come up with anything clever based on the MacGyver name, Studly Doright won out, but occasionally I really wish I’d gone with the MacGyver moniker. Like right now.
Those that have read my recent blog posts know that we had a water leak here at Doright Manor. The leak went unnoticed for a day, resulting in wet carpet and calls to the plumber. It took awhile to get a plumber out here, so in the meantime, Studly isolated the problem and turned off the hot water.
That was last Friday, a week ago today. We’ve since had the insurance appraiser pay a visit, as well as assorted plumbers and there’s a game plan in place for repairing the plumbing. Unfortunately they won’t be able to begin work until Tuesday. That means we’re still without hot water. That means no hot showers.
I’ve been heating water on the stove to wash my hair and taking sponge baths, but folks, I was not meant to be a pioneer woman. I might have whined once or twice. Studly has been taking cold showers. He’s whined more than I.
But Studly isn’t a whiner by nature, he’s a problem solver, so yesterday he called me into the garage where a variety of materials had been collected.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“As soon as we get this put together, it’s going to be a shower.”
I knew better than to question his judgement. He tends to get a little defensive if I say too much. Instead, I followed his directions and in about an hour we had a working shower with hot and cold running water.
We have to close the garage door most of the way so no one sees us naked, but not all the way so the water has a place to flow.
I didn’t photograph the faucets, so you’ll have to trust me that they were installed on top of the frame. The thing worked perfectly. We both had a hot shower thus eliminating the need for whining.
Now, I texted my kids during the process and my daughter texted this in return:
Yes, Studly didn’t have to MacGyver the whole thing, but his shower has a certain charm that the store bought one doesn’t, and it cost less as well.
On the home front here at Doright Manor we have air conditioning once again. The service man was quick, courteous, and properly covered for the times in which we live. Face mask and gloves, no-contact payment. I was impressed.
A pair of plumbers came all the way from Gainesville, FL, a two and a half hour drive, to map out the layout of our water pipes in order to locate the source of the leak and write up a plan to address the situation. They, too, wore masks and gloves. Their fix isn’t going to be as clean and quick as the air conditioning repair work was, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.
I’ve become rather adept at washing my hair over the kitchen sink with water heated in my tea kettle, but I’m tired of giving myself sponge baths. Our temperature high for the day is supposed to be 89°. I might stretch the water hose out along the driveway to soak up the sun, so this afternoon I could have a warm shower outside. For the neighbors’ sake, I will wear a bathing suit. Still contemplating the logistics.
We had a water leak in a pipe underneath the sink in one of our guest bathrooms here at Doright Manor. The water seeped into the carpet in an adjacent room—Studly Doright’s office. Fortunately we caught it before too many days went by. Studly Doright turned off our hot water, so at least I have access to cold water that can be heated for various uses.
I heated water for a “bath” in the sink on Saturday morning. My hair is still fairly short, so it wasn’t too difficult to clean. And I gave myself a sponge bath. I don’t feel as clean as I would following a shower, though. Today, I bought some dry shampoo. I hope it will yield good results.
Washing dishes was labor intensive, but not awful. Finding the right ratio of hot to cold water was a trial and error affair. I’m strongly encouraging the use of plastic cups and paper plates for the time being,
Some good news—the damages will be covered by our insurance. We’ll be responsible for paying a deductible, but will gladly do so rather than be stuck with a four or five thousand dollar repair bill.
The bad news? It might take awhile for Doright Manor to get back to normal. The insurance company will provide us with a list of plumbers, but the leak is in pipes running through the foundation of the house. Not an easy fix.
I’m so ready for normality. I just hope I recognize it when it arrives.
You know the old saying, “When it rains, it pours”? Here at Doright Manor it might not be pouring, but it’s certainly dribbling at a pretty good clip.
A week or so ago I noticed that the water for my morning shower was getting hot more quickly and staying hot much longer than normal. I like my showers hot, but not near boiling. Then today, there was zero hot water. Hmmm.
Also today, we noticed the carpet in Studly Doright’s home office was wet. Now that his company has called employees back to work at their regular office we are seldom in that room. Had I not been sorting through some craft materials, I might not have noticed the dampness until it began to smell like mildew.
Studly’s pretty certain the two events are connected and that the job calls for more plumbing expertise than he has. He’s called plumber after plumber, but no one he’s talked to will come into homes right now thanks to the Coronavirus.
Current status: No hot water, so no shower, no washing machine, no dishwasher. We’re going to start stinking before long.
When one sticks to a mostly vegan diet, as I do, one is constantly on the lookout for good snack foods. Well, at least I am. Yesterday I drove over to Whole Foods on Thomasville Road to buy bananas and foil. I was pleased to see that all but one or two shoppers were wearing masks and gloves. That’s not always the case at the Publix grocery store nearest Doright Manor where I’m often the only one in PPE besides the employees.
So, feeling like I didn’t have to run in and out of the store as I do at Publix, I went to the snack foods aisle where I found these cookies:
Uncle Eddie’s Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies with Walnuts. They are incredibly good. In fact, these might just be the best cookies I’ve ever had—and that includes homemade cookies. I promise even if I weren’t vegan I’d be singing their praises.
No one paid me to say this. Uncle Eddie doesn’t even know I exist, but if he wanted to adopt me I’d be all in.
Praying for Eyebrowz 