And I mean that literally. It was Sunday. We had gone to church with Mom for her birthday and then taken her out to breakfast. My brother and I spent an enjoyable few hours reliving the best of what we had been as brother and sister and ultimately as a family. We reminisced about Dad and the many things that had made him special. Mom got that faraway look on her face that I see often, as if she's seeing beyond us or looking forward to the time she will be smiling and on his arm again. I looked forward to a quiet afternoon after a hectic, heat stressed week. Quiet and mundane things like laundry and just hanging out.
Its God's good humor that Sundays are not the only day of the week that can be special or a-special. A couple of loads of laundry finished up and hung out. A rainbow of colors on a clothesline. Until a couple of years ago I had reverted from my earlier love of clothes line dried clothes to the dryer, which was faster, and more efficient in my time stressed world. I kept the clothesline which remain in my yard for drying bed linens and blankets, quilts. Last summer I came back to hanging laundry out. There is something about summer dried clothes that just feels right. It takes time, but I have time, and in my rush to find things of late, I realize that time is a precious thing and simple doesn't mean backward.
I have only two rules for line drying. No socks on the line except in emergencies and Kurt's rule, none of his whitey tighties hanging for the world to see. Of course, now the world knows this, but my blog world is relatively small....
The clothes were out on the line. I was checking some furniture I had stored in the basement and came up the carpeted set that leads directly into the living room. Yes, I have two sets of stairs going to my basement, and this, more or less has to do with an extra basement room added over 30 years ago. Coming up the stairs I noticed a dark blob on the second step from the top. Suspecting it was something left from one of the dogs, either end, mind you, I turned on the light and discovered there were bits of fur making up much of the blob, with tiny bits of skeletal bone sticking through. Well swell, it was the carcass of a decomposed mouse. A few weeks ago I had smelled a dead mouse in the basement room, the stairs lead into. It was strong and I had looked all through the furniture and behind the chimney for the body. For some reason I didn't use those stairs or only used them to go down and didn't spot Mr. Deceased. I am amazed and somewhat humiliated that I never smelled the mouse from the top of the stairs in my living room. It is open to those stairs and the mouse body was only a couple of steps down. I pride myself, (and yes, Lord, I am humbled again), on my keen sense of smell, and I really missed the boat on this one. Even my ever loving of every dead thing she can find, dog, Tally, missed the mark on this one. I just hope that the myriad of people I've had in my house the last few weeks missed the wondrous odor and didn't think I had buried bodies in the basement. I'm also hoping that the dog odor I am accustomed to, and ever mindful of, covered up the deceased stink.
I gathered two dustpans and "swept" up the body and the childhood memory of an old chicken coop aroma wafted into my nostrils, full force. A whisk broom finished up the leftovers and then a good dose of carpet cleaning spray, white vinegar, and finally a steam cleaning, and I hoped fervently the dead mouse aroma would not haunt me every humid day, as I think there are a few of those in store yet this summer.
Job done, and I headed outside to take down the dried laundry. Danged if I carried the basket in and didn't notice a dog smell after I had walked around a bit. Well crap, dog poop on the bottom of my flip flop. I had really stepped in it. Flip flop off and hosed and scrubbed and left in the sun to dry, at least there was that. Floor mopped up. Back in the house and well double yuck, Tally had vomited on the living room carpet. She is well known for her sensitive stomach and her proclivity towards eating things she shouldn't. I swear she's part pig as she loves to root around in the compost box for what, I don't want to know. Dustpans put into action again and vomit disposed. Carpet spray and vinegar, but decided the whole area needed a large scale cleaning, which would wait until evening and everyone, meaning Kurt and everything, meaning the dogs were upstairs in bed. Midnight is such a fun time to do things, just let my natural menopause tendencies kick in.
Tennis shoes on, back outside to move watering hoses, and well CRAP, stepped in it again. Sometimes you just gotta laugh because its Sunday and you can't cuss. My friend's dog ate a bottle of hand cream the other night, at least Tally didn't do that....
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