Why Do We Do That?

It was almost as though the day conspired to bring to us unease and discomfort.

Poor little Button woke us just after seven, barking desperately to be let out at the back door. Her stomach was upset, and she discharged her meal of the night before. And then, later, she was disinterested in her breakfast. That's upsetting to us because she's elderly and she's become a rack of bones, belying her good health and ample energy.

And then, removing the band aid I'd had over that still-healing sebaceous cyst, I discovered there was still pus discharging from it, amply explaining my physical discomfort overnight. Perhaps too, the reason why I'd slept so badly that night, felt so fatigued that morning. That was yesterday.

We had a late breakfast, as a result. And it was late in the morning, when my husband began the chore of de-installing our washer and dryer. He wanted to do it on Sunday, but I had insisted I still needed it. A load of towels, and following that, post-bath for Button and Riley, to wash their towels and bed linens.

In any event, we felt fairly secure in the knowledge that we had been told we'd be given a three-hour advance notification of the new appliance delivery. A mislaid comfort, obviously, as the delivery truck arrived before he even began the process of dismantling the old appliances.

They should have telephoned in advance, had not. We pointed this out, but they showed us their manifest which gave delivery time between eight and eleven, and that was that. Besides, it's a difficult, miserable job, and who wants to argue with two irritable men, wanting to get on with it? They were a burly pair of men, one much younger than the one in charge.

We ended up apologizing for not yet having de-installed the two old, malfunctioning appliances, meaning they'd have to wait in the driveway until that was done, before they could remove the old ones, install the new, energy-saving purchases. Don't worry about it, they said, we'll wait. And as soon as the machines were moved, I set about cleaning up the accumulated dust.

Dust! I guess as often as I try to vacuum under them, or send exploratory wands of dusters under there, I could reach so far and no further. And little bits of detritus as well, acquired through years of machine use and ordinary mud-room, laundry room usage. Finally the ceramic tiles were gleaming clean, wiped dry, and in came the dynamic duo to remove them.

Heavy work, a careful balancing act aided by a series of straps and bulky musculature. When we bought the appliances we were informed the delivery people were trained and skilled in installation, and they would do the installing. They said nothing of this when they brought in the new machines, and my husband too said nothing because he wanted to do the installation himself.

Despite which, we thanked them profusely, apologized again for having them wait, and gave them handsome tips for their efforts. Then signed the release form indicating that all was in order. And it was only in the installation process that we discovered a dent and a very long scratch in the porcelain side of the dryer. This is a high-tech, new-generation pair of appliances.

Priced appropriately. So, reluctantly, we telephoned the furniture shop, and relieved ourselves of our irritation. We've a new dryer on tap, to be delivered on Thursday. Then it was on to other matters to be discharged throughout the course of the day. A ravine walk being foremost; the morning rain that had fallen so plentifully had let up, so off we went.

After which I set about my weekly chore of house-cleaning, top to bottom. Three floors, inclusive of the finished basement. It's the dusting, of furniture and items sitting on furniture that takes up most of my cleaning time. A clock collection, wall-stacked paintings, sculptures, all of that needs to be dusted. And then dry-mopping the hardwood floors. Following which the rugs get vacuumed.

And finally, the ceramic and marble floors get washed. Not those downstairs in the basement; they get washed on a very irregular basis. While I was busy doing all of that, my husband was off doing other things. Visiting a local pharmacy to pick up non-hypo-allergenic band aids, because those I'm using have caused an irritating skin reaction. Also to pick up a high-energy detergent used in front-loading washers.

And finally, to the local garage that specializes in oil treatment for vehicles, applied on an annual basis to ensure winter road salting doesn't corrode the metal on our car. It's almost nine years old and there's no metal deterioration thus far, thanks to that yearly application. It was almost five o'clock by the time we were both finished and able to relax.

And it's at five that Button and Riley get their evening meal. After which it was time for our own to be prepared.