I think I’ve written about our combination refrigerator-freezer loss last week? That very day I had finally realized the ice box had died. Frieda had been suggesting the fact for maybe three days but as thick headed stubborn single mindedness I had chosen not to hear her. The very day and hour I realized I should have listened closer, as usual the critical moment to swing into action I had hit the road. Walking into the only appliance store I shop I had picked out the only refrigerator on floor display. While cringing over adding more on the mounting plastic card debt I had made arrangements for a later in the day delivery as I had a couple more stops to make on my way back home.
Regardless the delivery arrangements I didn’t make it home in an at all timely manner. The new refrigerator on the way, the old one still loaded, thinking self this clean out has to be quick. I brought in one two bushel plastic tub and commenced to fill it without regard for man nor beast. Filled to the rim It were all I good do to even drag it out of the house to wind up sitting on the deck ever since then. Cold nights, cool days, lower temperatures, and a maple trees shade the chemical content of that tub didn’t generate any rising odors to offend the nose.
Yesterday, an ill picked time to come visiting, a neighbor not knowing what he was about to get into stopped by. I put him to work helping me load that could have been a most offensive tub onto the Greene truck’s tailgate.
Nothing else pressing the immediate early moment, this morning a bit cooler than the most recent past, I braved the elements and the expected smell taking that tub’s mess out back. Parking the Greene down wind, myself up wind what was about to greet me on my tailgate I commenced to hand take each item one at a time out of that tub. Giving back to the earth I opened and emptied every package, garbage thrown going to the earth and remaining wrappers, cans and glass into a trash bag. I was sorry to see four small packages venison go to waste. Opening a package of chicken was the stinkiest. I saved a couple apples to wash for my personal eating. Then when all said and done I got to wondering if the frozen peas, corn, string beans, rice, northern beans, noodles, macaroni, and other seedy tid-bits will germinate and grow me a right harvestable ready to eat Shorthorn country stew or goulash?
Afternoon had turned into the last two days same-o, same-o. I manage to put together seven or eight heavy bags trash as I moved things about the shop. For one thing I emptied a number of cans drain oil into two quart clear or opaque bottles mostly fire accelerant for starting woodstove fires. Some of the oil having set around for some time having settled out pouring clear, I saved some bottles this stuff for external machinery lubricants.
About the most exciting thing happening to me was Tom’s, bringing in a couple new heavy duty batteries for the 2150 Ollie, his disrupting my established bottle filling routine. Tom’s timing just at that moment my brain often ceases to function, while I had stepped outside to check on the numbers of five gallon buckets I was cleaning. When I got back Tom had left. Tom had turned my trash bag holders over to plank the batteries on. It was what had done to deserve this. I sure was glad he’d made his delivery simple. Me in the meantime, having had my line of concentration interrupted I was T-ed off. Break time, my rhythm broken I had to figure out what had gone wrong. Stupid as it reads I finally figured out what to do with the new batteries so I could have the use of my trash bag holders back and in time reestablish my predetermined cadence.
It wasn’t to bad a day. It had been better if people when passing through would just leave me and my optimal operation alone. The weather was nice. I was warm within the shops walls blocking the winds.