With the warmer weather arriving and it has been a long cold winter thanks to the pandemic, I thought it might be a good idea to clean all the exterior windows on my home. Ideally, as Summer rolls around, I’ll be having more and more fully vaccinated friends over for cookouts, game nights, and the kind of fun we had before everything went all upside down. Now it’s one thing for me to get the idea to do something like this, then it’s another entirely to get actual energy to up and do it.
This is one manner in which I like to surprise myself with that oh-so-spontaneous lifestyle that keeps me on my toes. On a Monday I went to the hardware store and bought what I would need. I got that all in one kit, cleaner, sprayer and all, that just attaches to your garden hose. I bought three of them as I like to plan ahead. I then promptly went home and set the cleaners in my basement, then went about my day.
Four days went by, then one morning while I was having my coffee I just upped and decided that today would be the day to clean. I finished breakfast, then emerged from my garage doors dressed appropriately. Black athletic socks, supportive sneakers, plaid shorts, a white shirt, sunglasses, white wired earbuds, and a straw hat. I realize the eroticism of this outfit may be a bit too much for some readers, and I apologize. But at that moment I realized I had truly morphed into the Suburban Dad I was always bound to become.
The first step was to start listening to a podcast. The second step was to hook together two garden hoses, then hook the end of one of them into the faucet. My house is too wide for one hose to reach. As I got the hose attached to the faucet and to the first cleaning bottle, I then decided to tackle the far end, I hoisted the end of the hose over my shoulder and began to carry it to the extreme end of the house. I felt a bit of a roadie trying to get Guns ’N’ Roses for ready their next show at the Winter Garden.
The cleaning went fine, just like you’d expect. But as I worked my way back down to the end where the faucet was, I had to get a little step ladder to help. My house sits on a slope, so one end is higher than the other from the ground. With each move, I’d again sling the hose over my shoulder and lug it with me like it was a heavy-duty electrical wire. When it came to the end of the house where the windows were the highest off the ground, the trick I found was to center the step ladder, get on as high a rung as I felt safe, and try to work the cleaning bottle back and forth between the two.
So there I was. Standing on a rung three away from the top, lost in the sounds of my podcast, flipping the hose around from shoulder to shoulder to help with the tension of the slack. As I was lost in this little cleaning zone I didn’t realize that what was happening with each flip of the hose was that it was crisscrossing around my legs, slowly entangling itself around them. It wasn’t till I was doing the rinsing did I suddenly become aware that my legs felt a bit heavy.
Though I wasn’t what I would call “dangerously high” off the ground, the thought of falling to the paved driveway off a ladder did not give me any joy. Naturally, my mind went to the worst-case scenario. That this would be my downfall and the newspapers would be full of headlines like “Region’s Most Eligible Bachelor Succumbs to his own Stupidity.” I began to wonder if I could, slowly, work my way down the steps taking the hose with me as I moved?
I moved my left leg. I moved my right leg. The first step is taken, no problems. I made it down the step ladder, then as I tried to get out of the tangled mess on the ground I did slip and fall, but was able to catch myself with my hands. I felt a bit like a fool that I was so caught up in my podcast I didn’t realize I was becoming a danger to myself. At least I wouldn’t have to worry bout any dumb headlines appearing about myself anytime soon. Hopefully. See you next week.