Moving On:
Chapter Six
Renovation
My
body screams, “I’ve got to get off this bed of nails, NOW”. As I
struggle to
move every single muscle hurts as if a gang of thugs has beaten me. I
have to
get rid of that army cot. Boy, I need coffee and an aspirin.
Let
the
renovations begin. Workers are here now.
I
open
the door. The carpet remover is on time.
“Good
morning. I’m Matt
Rugby, this is my assistant Tony.” His round face and beer belly brags
belting
buckets of brew. He hands me his business card and has a smile that is
contagious.
Matt and Tony get busy right away and move as if each step is
choreographed. They
don’t talk, just work. In no time the
stinky, stained, filthy carpet is ripped out. The dust swirls, filling
the air with
specks of putrid particles that would make a preacher man think of
scripture, “somebody is coming or going”.
I
sneeze and my eyes begin to water. I open all the doors and windows to
get rid
of the awful moldy molecules in the air. As if being invited, flying
bitty bugs
invade the rooms as if I gave them permission. I can almost hear their
tiny
voices scream “Dinner” as Matt and Tony work. I swat at the stray flies
and gnats,
shooing them away and try to stay clear of the workers. The old carpet
is
rolled up and dumped into the big green dumpster in my driveway. The
flooring
that has been hidden under the carpet for years reveals beautiful hard
wood.
There
appears to be the solid original floors in every room. What a find. The
guys
clean up the debris and I continue to sneeze and wheeze. Now my eyes
itch and
nose drips. I cover my face with a wadded clump of Kleenex.
The
day is gone and it’s time to rest so I sit on the side patio holding a
glass of
wine and enjoy the view. My attention focuses on my beautiful back yard
and I realize
this is a great place to have a dog. Well, one thing at a time. This
days’ work
accomplished a lot. I try to figure out another way to sleep tonight,
that damn
cot will kill me.
----------------------------------
I answer the door early to the carpenter. We
shake hands. His grip is strong enough to crush cars. “Hi, I’m Bob
Beam.” I
look over at the other man, he’s a tall drink of water, I think. “This here is my son, Jim Beam.” OK, so much
for the tall drink of water, but he may be a good mixer.
“You
have your work cut out for you. Come this way and I’ll show you what I
have in
mind.” I take them to the Master Bedroom area. These closets only
pretend to be
useful, and would be if they were in a kids playhouse.“
He’s
looking at my chicken scratch rendition of the redo. “You have good
ideas,
mam.” Bob looks over his shoulder and shakes his head in agreement.
“I’m
planning to change the entire bedroom area.”
Jim
and
Bob study every detail. Jim scribbles on a pad of paper and hands me a
wonderful more detailed sketch.
I
look it over, “This is Genius.”
Bob
points
across the back wall of my bedroom. “The addition of the French doors
going out
to the patio will give you space for afternoon sitting and coffee at
sunrise.
It’s a peaceful setting, mam. It will also lend itself to the gentle
breeze in
summer afternoons.”
“You
have good ideas here.” I like his bid and tell them, “I’m in.”
He
had
added things I haven’t imagined and knows cabinet designs and what’s
available.
I like these two guys.
The
next morning Bob brings helpers Harry and Heavy. Those guys can
probably move
the Statue of Liberty if need be.
Jim.
Bob, Harry and Heavy all work up a sweat ripping out walls. I bring in
iced tea
and lots of water then back on out of there. I hear a deep echoing
grumble from
Heavy, yup, all 300+- pounds of him isn’t quite cussing but close.
Harry was
given the right name. I could literally braid the hair on his arms to
compliment his ponytail.
The
racket makes my ears ring. Angie pops in. “Hi,
mom. I thought you could use a little
sane company. Let’s go to the patio. I’ll pour fresh coffee.”
“That
sounds perfect, sweetheart. Maybe it will close off the racket the guys
are
making.”
We watch old lumber and wallboard parade
outside to the handy dandy giant receptacle.
“They
are doing a good job, mom.” Angie is watching the muscular guys carry
out heavy
stuff.
“This
all should be done in no time the rate they are going, OMG, Angie, I’ll
be
crippled for life if I have to keep sleeping on that cot. I not only
can’t
stand up straight but waddle like a duck from the pain.”
“Mom,
you can come and stay with us. We have an extra bedroom.”
“I
won’t say I’ll sleep on the invitation. Expect me tonight. I’ll see you
when
they are finished for the day.” I get a deck of cards and we sit and
enjoy the
sunshine and block the noise from the construction. I hear a dog
barking. It
sounds like a playful bark. We pass a little time playing cribbage.
There
seems to be chaos inside. The house suddenly has an invasion of several
bees.
It’s impossible to keep everything shut up. Heavy is stung and has a
big red
welt on his neck. “Good thing I’m not allergic to bee stings. My pa was
and
dern near died before we got him to the hospital. I’ve got better
genes.” Heavy
shares.
“Geeeeez,
that’s scary. I’m glad you’re OK. I’ve got Calamine lotion for you.”
Angie went
to get the lotion. I don’t know how she knew which bathroom box it was
in.
He
looked at me, eyebrow raised.
“It’s
ok, even guys use this pink stuff.” I
try to reassure him. He puts it on where he was stung. It’s kind of
funny seeing
a guy as big as him with a pink neck. That color stands out on him. I
don’t
make any comment because I can see he isn’t thrilled.
“Thanks.”
He muttered below his breath and takes it OK.
Angie
and I calmed after that storm, and went back outside.
“I’ve
never seen bees in a house like that, Mom. There were a few gnats and
flies
too, What is the draw?”
“It
was bad when they removed the carpet. Maybe these are the old dead bugs
families wanting revenge?”
“Oh,
mom.”
Heavy
grumbled a lot. What a crank. He must be weighted down with problems.
The
upside is they did a great job and I’m glad they’re just finishing up.
This
week went past in a flash of activity.
Another
project completed. Now I can get my furniture set up.
------------------------------------------
The
next
morning the movers pull up and out hops a cheerful looking guy. “I’m
Hoover the
Mover.” There are a couple of men behind him bringing boxes in faster
than I
can keep up.
“The
labels mark what room to put the boxes in. Thanks”
“Yes,
mam.”
I’m
supposed
to check each box to be sure they all are there. I see one that’s been
crushed.
Another is soggy. How did that happen? Then I notice markings that tell
me
what’s inside are gone from most of them, mysteriously. I could choke
the ninny
that is causing me the extra work. I need a real coffee mug but don’t
have a
clue where to begin looking. I’m tired of paper cups. “Well, Hoover,
what happened
to my nice new boxes?”
“Oh,
mam, we had a leak in the storage unit. Don’t think nothin’s ruined.
Just
holler if you see something not fixable, I’m real sorry, now.” I think
he uses
the name ‘Hoover’ because he sucks at his job.
With
that I checked out my actual large furniture with a fine eye.
Hoover
comes out of the bathroom holding the toilet handle in his hand and
tells me
the toilet is running. Crap. He must be the one that caused the leak at
the
storage unit. He’s a klutz. Probably
because his long pony tail gets in the way. Or he stops to read his
tattoos to
get a higher education when he wants a break.
Replacing the toilet is easy. I take the handle from him,
although I’m
tempted to let him keep holding it to see what he does with it. I call
Bob to
put in a new toilet. I’m flush enough for that. Bob said he’d be out
soon with
a replacement.
As
the movers bring in some larger furniture, the living room fills with
many bees.
We scramble for safety. I think Hoover ran to his truck as if a tiger
was
chasing him. I grab my phone and look up beekeepers. The movers are
freaked out,
guess they’ve never seen the huge scary critters before. I watch the
three huge
guys squish themselves into their truck cab. I
wasn’t introduced to the two helpers Hoover
has and realize now I haven’t asked. I told them I’d have a pizza
delivered to
them while they wait. The windows are rolled up. I can only imagine how
their
sweat must smell in that tiny closed space. Oh, well.
The
beekeeper got here within
one hour, same day service, I’m impressed and thankful.
He hands me his card, stands grinning, hands
behind his back, rocking back and forth, wearing a yellow one piece
work
overall, and waits for my comment. He is easily 6’2’ and skinny. He and
Onan
are bookends in weight. Or should I say weightlessness? His business
card is
yellow with black stripes on the right edge and reads:
Queens
Beekeeper
Mo
Honeywell
Beeline
Road
Beach
Drive,
Seattle,
Washington 260-233-2337
(260-BEE-BEES)
OMG.
Somehow I figured he
would have bees as the entire theme of his business but he went the
extra mile.
“If
it’s alright with you, mam, I’ll just buzz around and
capture the little honeys.”
“Great.”
I peek out the window to check on the guys in the
truck. They are staying there until its bee free.
I
watch
Mo collect the bees. My patio seems to be a safe sting free zone. I
hear that
happy dog again. He must be playing with somebody. Mo found a bee entry
in the
living room ceiling light fixture. The nest is next to the front door.
Mo
motions me inside.
“Mam,
I have some fresh honey here for you, if you’d like it.”
“I’d
love it. Thank you.” I gladly deprive the
hive from this honey. Now at least I have something to show for the
bee-gone
blues day.
Mo
chimes in, “I love my job, this process
is called a ‘cut out’. The hive must be physically removed, very
carefully. A
fertilized queen lays up to 2000 eggs a day. It’s important to have a
professional beekeeper relocate them all safely.” Mo handles them ever
so
gently.
“You
are good at what you do, Mo and I’m glad you shared the story behind
the hives.”
“Thank
you mam. I’ve never been stung. I think they know I’m here to save
them.”
The
bees were gone and relocated within two hours and the guys tentatively
got out
of the truck as soon as the beekeeper drove away. I’m glad to see Mo
and Hoover
finish up. They left a little after dark, putting in a longer day than
expected. The house is bug and bee free, and the renovation complete.
I’m ready
to decorate. I already love it here.
------------------
I
woke
up in my own bed this morning to the sound of small birds chirping,
seagulls
not as close, and a train clanking and blowing it’s horn muted by
several
blocks distance. Then, of course there was a catfight and a motorcycle
racing
down the quiet street at 6:30 AM. There are sporadic boat horns too. I
like the
sound of those horns. I want to go out into the waters and fish. Of course I don’t have a pole and barely know
which end to hold let alone what kind of bait to use or how to use it.
Guess
I’ll learn.
I
pour a cup of coffee, head out to the side patio to bask in the morning
sun. I
look toward the back yard and think I could get a dog now.
Then I hear a masculine voice playfully
calling out to a barking dog close to my patio. Ha, what timing. A ball
whizzes
past my face, hits my coffee mug which then bounces across the patio
spilling
coffee everywhere. I stand up and stare in shock.
A
man
squeezes between two small evergreens and enters my patio saying, “I’m
so
sorry. Ma Barker and I play ball every
day. I haven’t had any ball go astray before.” His eyes scan the mess. “Let me clean up the patio.” First he extends
his hand, “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m,” he stops mid sentence and
stares
at me. A beautiful Golden Retriever bounds through the shrubs, wagging
her
tail, stands in front of me, looks up to my face. She’s expecting me to
do
something. I pet her while I look back at this now adult familiar face.
Ma
Barker turns around and sits on top of my feet with her butt, confining
my
movement. I freeze. “I know you, don’t I?” Geez, could I say anything
dumber?
“I’m
Michael Day. Remember 7th grade? I put your ponytail in a
glass of
hydrogen peroxide in science class and it bleached out, later I dipped
the tips
of your long hair into my blue paint in art class. I never apologized.
I had a
reason. Though.” He gives me a semi smile and cocks his head. “I had a
huge
crush on you.”
“What?”
I stare at him, my mouth is gaping open and I can’t move because I’m
held
captive by the butt of his dog on my feet.
“I
have wondered what happened to you.” He admits.
I
give him a half smile, “I avoided you throughout school
as if you had a mean pit bull, pet rattlesnake and the plague for
years. I had
all but forgotten about that stuff.” I lie to him.
Then
gently shake the dog
off my feet and pet him.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I go pour
two cups of coffee.
“Well,
I can’t blame you for keeping far away from me back then.” He raises
his cup to
clink against mine. “Here’s to a new beginning.”
