Sunday, July 7, 2013

These Things We Do

Summer has arrived with some force here in the State of Concrete Gardens.  The weather has been fairly consistently brutal since July's arrival.  If history is any guide, it shall remain that way until mid-September's arrival.  Such is life.  Here in Jersey we anticipate that in the depths of winter it shall be bone-chillingly cold.  And in the heat of summer it shall be spine-meltingly hot.  To date this summer we have not been disappointed.  Heat has been in ample supply.  As has rain, which is why more often than not this past week it felt as if that each breath taken out of doors has been taken through a smelly sweat sock. 
Life goes on.  As does the need to perform necessary tasks.  Yesterday the Missus and I spent the day putting the finishing touches on almost everything we need to do at our soon-to-officially-be our form digs to be able to turn the keys and the garage door openers over to the new owner at closing.  To warm up for what promised to be a hot, stinky day (and which did not disappoint in that regard at all) I went for a five-plus mile run through town at sunrise.  It could not have been any more than eighty-five degrees.  If I had waited an hour or so - when the sun was offering heat in addition to light - it might have been decidedly uncomfortable. 
While it was not fun to spend Saturday sweating our asses off, we accomplished a great deal.  As anticipated, having a dumpster in our driveway encouraged divers of all shapes and sizes.  One gentlemen asked permission to climb into the junk, wade through it and pick out the things he wanted.  Two reasons demanded that we say "Yes".  One - the charge for the dumpster is based upon how much it weighs at pick up so everything "Juan the Junk Man" took from our dumpster and tossed into his own (OK it was an old, rusted Toyota pickup truck) lessens the load.  Second - there are scant things as much fun to watch as a person waist deep in a dumpster looking for treasure like Pirate Pete. 
At some point however those itching for the chance to dive became a distraction.  We had too much to do to take the time needed to ask each diver to stay out of the dumpster.  Instead, we mounted a Dumpster Crow.  And she worked like a charm. 
Quite a looker to boot too.  
For reasons not entirely clear to me - while removing years and years of stuff from our home and discarding items with impunity (well I did it with impunity while Margaret did it while battling pangs of guilt) - the cookie jar that once upon a lifetime ago adorned the kitchen counter at our home in Canal Road was rescued from the depths of our basement and given a space on the Pack-Rat.  It shall continue its life in our new digs.  It is as likely as not that there it shall end up where it ended up at 57 Delaware - in the basement.  If you were to put a gun to my head I would not be able to tell you when the last time was I ate a cookie out of it.  Hell, prior to seeing it in a stack of stuff in our garage on Friday night I did not realize we still had it.  Yet, I am happy that it has made the cut.  It just seemed right that it did.
It has been a long time since Canal Road.  Then again maybe not as long as it seems....

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