Sunday, January 31, 2016

Nothing Lasts Forever

Besides people – obviously – do you know what is the most disappointing thing to talk about that doesn’t last forever? The things that you hate to admit, that although yes, you could live without them, but no, you just dang sure don’t want to – washers, dryers, air conditioning/heating units, and televisions.

Now let’s take that first couple of items and talk about them – I’m fully capable and it’s absolutely doable, and I do wash my delicate’s in the sink by hand, but I have NO desire to wash all of our clothes by hand; besides, I also don’t have a running stream behind my house to wash them in.

I did the whole clothesline deal two different times in my life. And I love the smell of fresh dried sheets off-the-line; I work, and hanging them up in the early-morning-dark and taking them off after a long day of work is not anything I desire again at this time in my life.

Side-note: my washer is on its last leg and when the spin cycle begins – it sounds as if a tornado is rumbling through the house. But we’re hang on until it spins it’s last breath or the floor falls through, so this story is not complete.  

I think by now, we ALL know where I stand on the subject of the heating/air unit and what it provides – which is nothing short of sanity and pro-longed life for all my friends and family. This morning my men were watching an old western and as I sat in my chair, I caught glimpses of those women in all their dress-garb.

I truly mean this when I say: how in the literal hell did those women survive menopause, hot flashes, night sweats and mood swings? How is it that women were not the most murderous human beings back in that time of history? Because I can picture it clearly – I had trekked down to the pond to scrub clothes with a rock, hung them all out, took them all down, milked the cows, hayed the horses, rung three chicken’s necks for dinner and I’m standing in five layers of clothing, sweating like one of the pigs that are outside wallowing in the mud to cool-off, cooking over a fire stove, when my man storms in the door bellowing at me “Woman, bring me a whiskey!” Yeah – I’d bring him a whiskey alright – cause he’d get one last shot of whiskey to make that bullet less painful.

And last, but certainly not least, television. Ours has been dying a slow death since the first of December, and this weekend it died. We had MANY discussions about “we’re not spending that kind of money on a TV” – and let me be clear – that was not my point of view.  Because let’s face it – work, television, and eating are our life now that our kids are grown. And by golly, I want Heinz (not Great Value) ketchup, a job I like going to everyday and a television that fits my description of perfect.

And guess what? That’s what we bought. 

No comments:

Post a Comment