Spring Cleaning
I can’t be sure that it isn’t going to snow anymore, but I see my golf clubs, and I definitely think I’ll be swinging them before any of a dozen Yankees comes off the injured list.
Thing is, I also took a good look around at the house and yard over the weekend, and there’s a lot of digging out that needs to be done.
The joint needs some work!
The wood on the trim is in rough shape and needs paint.
The weeds and leaves and other assorted muck has filled the landscaped areas. My driveway has even more cracks. The basketball hoop needs a new net.
And don’t even get me started on the garage.
They broke the cover for the hot tub.
There are an awful lot of beverage containers strewn about, and we have the old rug stored out there and have to wait until big garbage pickup.
When I was a kid we used to go to the dump every Saturday. Some days we’d make multiple trips with a pickup truck loaded with materials.
I learned to drive at the dumps.
I also sat on my Dad’s lap and steered the car as we coasted home.
I can see so many of those trips so vividly.
I get sentimental talking about trips to the dumps, as we called it.
“Yo! You gotta’ set some of the rugs at the curb,” I told the boys on Sunday afternoon, and then I waited for them to get ambitious about it.
“Don’t forget the rugs,” I said, an hour or so after I said it the first time.
“We’re all over it,” Sam said.
I’m still in shock over the hole at the roof line that allowed the critters to enter.
It’s been a long and trying winter.
The Masters is over, and I’ve yet to swing the club.
“Fore!”
Come on now.
No more snow!
We gotta’ get this crap to the dumps.
Thing is, I also took a good look around at the house and yard over the weekend, and there’s a lot of digging out that needs to be done.
The joint needs some work!
The wood on the trim is in rough shape and needs paint.
The weeds and leaves and other assorted muck has filled the landscaped areas. My driveway has even more cracks. The basketball hoop needs a new net.
And don’t even get me started on the garage.
They broke the cover for the hot tub.
There are an awful lot of beverage containers strewn about, and we have the old rug stored out there and have to wait until big garbage pickup.
When I was a kid we used to go to the dump every Saturday. Some days we’d make multiple trips with a pickup truck loaded with materials.
I learned to drive at the dumps.
I also sat on my Dad’s lap and steered the car as we coasted home.
I can see so many of those trips so vividly.
I get sentimental talking about trips to the dumps, as we called it.
“Yo! You gotta’ set some of the rugs at the curb,” I told the boys on Sunday afternoon, and then I waited for them to get ambitious about it.
“Don’t forget the rugs,” I said, an hour or so after I said it the first time.
“We’re all over it,” Sam said.
I’m still in shock over the hole at the roof line that allowed the critters to enter.
It’s been a long and trying winter.
The Masters is over, and I’ve yet to swing the club.
“Fore!”
Come on now.
No more snow!
We gotta’ get this crap to the dumps.
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