Susan's front storm door snapped two of its hinges months ago. Months and months ago, like maybe almost a year ago. It deteriorated to the point where it didn't close properly, or at all unless you put in the extra effort. Then it developed a loud metal rubbing against metal creak that could have been used in a horror movie as the sound of a casket opening. It was pretty bad.

Last month during the first visit by Susan's landscapers, the garden gate got busted when the big standing mower ran into it. Prior to that its ability to swing open had been somewhat compromised, but the mower rendered the gate a cripple which had to be carried gently and placed in an open position, or a closed position depending on whether one was entering or exiting. It too was pretty bad.

Last weekend little sister's sleepover company came to Susan's house to annihilate the sliding screen door leading to the deck. Guess which one of these three is now known (only to Susan) as The Destroyer:

If you guessed the littlest one then you would be correct.
When she wasn't using her brute strength to burst through old doors with torn screens and wheels which often didn't sit properly in their tracks, she was pretty charming. So were her sisters.

The quality of Susan's life in her own house was declining fast.

Cousin Greg, most recently of GIANT jenga fame, offered his assistance which Susan immediately accepted. In fact, she may have even initiated the idea that she needed his assistance. Regardless, Cousin Greg is a generous and decent person, as well as her brother in grief, but most importantly he's smart and HANDY with almost everything in the universe. And Susan is needy.

Cousin Greg came out on his day off to repair the gate, repair & re-screen the back door and install a new front door which required two trips to Home Depot before they got the right one. It was a hot day, he departed Susan's house ten hours after he arrived covered in sweat and smelling like armpits.

Oh, and he also fixed Susan's bedroom closet door.

Susan heard her son arrive home from work, walk through a front door that didn't cry out in screetching agony, and declare in a tone denoting impressed surprise Whoa! 
She brought him through the house to survey Cousin Greg's handiwork; he had given them more than fully functioning doors, he had restored their humanity.

Bathtub Drain, Two Ways

I:

Susan asked her son to remove some hair that had collected in the grate covering the drain in the bathtub then watched in horror as he took the hair, threw it into the toilet and flushed it away.

II:

At the very end of Susan's shower she noticed she was standing in a half inch of water. She took her foot and played with the lever. Nothing happened. 

She got out and plunged until she was sweaty and wracked with old age pains. Nothing happened.

She asked her son to plunge. Nothing.

She went out with her little sister and returned with Drano & a snake which her son took and went to investigate. A few minutes later he emerged and asked if Susan had been messing with the lever. 

Uh-oh.

She may never learn why the tub was a little slow to drain but apparently she sealed the drain opening shut when she flipped the lever the wrong way.

Susan is not a lover of the outdoors unless seated on a comfortable chair in a shady yard with a plate of cookies on her lap.

With limited enthusiasm Susan has been known to plant a thing or two, but that's the end of it. There is no further interaction of any sort unless she clips a hydrangea to shove in a glass of water. There is definitely no maintenance, or any proximity to dirt or bugs, neither does she hang around in her front yard long enough for Mr. or Mrs. Drunk to catch a glimpse of her and come over for a chat.

This weekend Susan combined all these avoided actions and set upon the distasteful task of weeding her front yard. Since the untimely demise of her beloved husband the outside has started to look like The Muster's house, minus the impressive Victorian exterior.

The husband would do all her grunt work. By his side she was more inclined to make a teeny effort, or at least sit on the front steps and conversate while he toiled on her projects.

You know the joint must be in really rough shape for Susan to willingly engage in physical labor, particularly the bending over variety. Susan has a keen hatred for bending over, one she has proclaimed far and wide. And loudly.
Weeding seems to have been invented for this miserable position.

Susan's son employed his super human wrestler's strength to yank out a few trees that did not exist six months prior then transported all her weedy debris to the neglected compost bin. The husband used to take care of the composting responsibilities for her too.

Jeez, did she do anything?

At the end of the day the yard look improved but at the cost of Susan's elderly back, so she crawled to her bed & took a nap.

Tarting Up

The old Adirondack chairs were tightened and arranged around the fire pit, next to each was placed a tree stump for a table, the ones that hadn't already fallen apart from decay anyway. Poison Ivy was terminated with extreme prejudice, leaves were raked and trash bags were hauled to the curb.


Susan's son, in his second month of punishment related chores, swept the leaves and spiderwebs from the stoop then washed the front of the house with a BIG sponge and a bucket of soapy water. Susan strung white Xmas lights around the doorway, replaced the old welcome mat which had been flipped upside down because it looked better upside down than right side up, replaced the broken flower pots and stabbed some solar powered walkway lights into her lawn. Except for the flower pots being devoid of flowers, the outside of the house was now ready for company.

Alright, alright, calm down everybody. No black walls.

Susan's little sister recommended Susan paint the kitchen the color of Lucy the Lucky Pit Bull which is such a dark brown it may as well be black. Susan thinks she's just going to choose something a few shades darker than the newly painted cabinets and be done with it.

In the meantime Miss Twelve helped her father install a new linoleum tile kitchen floor. Susan was onsite during the critical initial stage to argue about how they should be placed. When she saw how enthusiastic and capable the daughter was Susan left the room to search for Celebrity Rehab on TV.

When she returned she was impressed with their progress, almost half the floor was done. Under closer inspection it was determined that the tiles were only sort of straight. Susan pulled them all up and made the team start over, this time under her supervision.

Miss Twelve displayed a wonderfully professional demeanor, free of complaining or pouting or anger. She stuck with it & finished as much of the floor as she could before everybody got sick of the project and quit for the evening.

Oh, and Susan would like everyone to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her mommy.

What do you think of black walls?
Susan's kitchen is very small, it's more like a pass thru from the livingroom to the dining room.
It's really the perfect location for black walls.
But first she's got to paint the ceiling.

Susan got bleach in her eye. Ow!
She was cleaning the bathroom using her regular glasses in lieu of protective eye wear when a single drop of bleach went airborne and scored a direct hit. Pow! Immediately Susan's eyeball burst into flames. She flushed it with water like a crazy person but it still smoldered for the rest of the day.

She took her Marilyn Manson eye and started prepping the kitchen cabinets to be painted. They were sporting an undercoating of grease topped with a layer of dog hair. She green cleaned them with rubbing alcohol and a surprisingly small amount of physical effort.

Next came the disassembly, which she left to the husband; fourteen doors and two piles of hardware. Then the priming then the painting. Priming is easy because you don't have to be neat, but painting requires two coats with 24 hours drying time in between. Susan doesn't want to mislead anyone into thinking that she knocked this project off quickly. Nay! It's taken three days and she's still working on it. She fears that when she's done she'll have to paint the walls too.

It's pretty certain that she'll have to paint the walls.