Working with Tim

I received the call. It's been a long time since he's called with this request--after all, he has the boys to help him, especially in the summer. In fact, I had grown accustomed to not hearing his call for help--after all, we are past mid-summer, his busy time, and I hadn't heard a peep from him in this regard during these many weeks. But yesterday, it came.

"Hi honey, what are you up to? Are you going to be going out later?"

I knew this was a suspicious call. Usually, my husband likes me to be at home (which I enjoy as well) so I can accomplish many tasks and create an environment of peace and happiness (and coolness on hot days--read, turn on the a/c early!) after he has had a long, busy, hot day working in remodeling.

"Well," I admitted, "I plan to go to the grocery store and the bank." That sounded like a safe answer--after all, I wasn't planning to go to a ladies tea or volunteer my services at some social service agency that would eat up all my "free" time. Or worse, I wasn't going to the library to check out books that would definitely eat all my time, especially if I got started on a Brock or Bodie Thoene book or one by Francine Rivers.

"Okay," he replied, receiving my response as acceptable. "I have a favor to ask."

I steeled myself for the favor. Did he just need me to drop off some tools he had forgotten? Was he close to home? Did he need me to spot some nails that would take hours and make a mess? Should I take a shower now or wait till I was done helping him, coming home caked in drywall mud, or worse, spray or drywall dust from a sanding project?

"Can you come help me clean up at this job? I'm running behind and could really use your help."

Well, this didn't sound too bad. Usually he just needed me to help him carry out some tools, maybe sweep a room or two, how bad could it be?

"Sure, honey. I'll leave in about 30 minutes." (Enough time to get in a shower, I thought, since it shouldn't be a real messy job.

"Okay, come as soon as you can." Click.

Well, he did give me directions to the house, but I assumed it was after the Oak Grove school, and the house was actually before. But, it was worth the wait. I drove up the driveway, still a bit steamed as I spoke with my darling on the cell phone clarifying directions to the doorway.

The house was pretty impressive. And old. Like, built in the 1800s. Old around our neighborhood is, built in the 1940s. The woodwork was beautiful, rich wide oak baseboards, high ceilings, a huge greatroom filled with lovely antiques. And, in the area I was to clean, stood an ancient suit or armor, covered with plastic (which was covered with spray).

I took down the plastic around the walls, as Tim had been texturing the ceiling. I gingerly uncovered the knight who stood in silent, and sometimes frightening vigil nearby as I worked (I had the feeling someone was always looking over my shoulder). I vacuumed the carpet carefully (later I learned that our son Luke is taking the carpet to his new home--so I didn't worry too much about a few stray chunks of drywall mud that had adhered themselves nicely to the lush nap.)

Finally, I finished. Or at least, got to the "good enough" stage. (It seems there is always more that can be done. I did wipe up some drywall dust and small splatters from the cherry wood grandfather clock and the oak bannister.) We cleared out the place, and Tim asked if I had lunch. Having lunch with him is always an unexpected treat, but as I looked at my watch, I knew he would have to retract his offer to take me to Wendy's. It was almost 1:30, and he was close to 2 hours late to another job.

"That's okay, honey," I replied. "We'll have lunch another time."

As I left, I admired the gardens and the homeowners' matching Cadillac SUVs. I was happy we could use their left over carpet. Maybe another day we could visit again and admire the vigilant knight and perhaps enjoy a luncheon in the great room without the drywall dust.

But for now, I'm content with the 4 walls of my late 20th century home, where the only knights are in a chess game tucked away on some bookshelf in need of dusting. It's always more fun to clean somebody else's house.....especially such an elegant one.

Till next time,


Suzi

PS Tim wrote about bidding the job for this house in his entry Back to Kindergarten.