CATCHING UP... a bit (Part 123c)
Elle got a call to come into
the local school to teach the next morning which meant there was a bit
of panic as we started our day. The panties we’d made up the night
before were forgotten for the time being. I was on my way to work when I
thought about them again. I liked the feel of them and that was because
the nylon satin material was on the outside. However, the “test” of
them that we'd wanted hadn’t been performed. I knew Elle would want to
wash them before the next test and I tried to think forward to when that
might be. I also wondered if Elle would tell Sandy about them.
With
all the focus on panties over the previous few days (the Sans Soucie
panties from Willy and making the “dribble” panties) I was almost
constantly reminded that I still had to hide my “stash” up in the attic.
There was one big reason that I’d put it off... getting into the attic
was a hassle. The previous owner had added a “trap door” at the top of
the stairs into the attic. He’d made it himself and hadn’t put a lot of
thought into it. He’d made it from a 4’ X 8’ sheet of half inch sheet of
plywood which was very heavy. Then he added two hinges so that it could be opened.
However... because of the weight it was very hard for me to get open and there was no way Elle could. I won’t go into the physics of it but in the
almost year that we owned the house I’d only been up there twice. When
the trap door was opened past half way it would then flop all the way over and crash
onto the attic floor. The “crash” would reverberate throughout the
house which meant there was no way I could ever go up there without Elle knowing. Periodically I’d thought about how to remedy the problem but wasn’t confident enough
about my solution to pursue it. It was "Big B" who, quite by accident, got me headed in
the right direction.
The previous owner had left various things
behind when moving. I’d found them ferreted away in different places in
and around the house. When built, it was heated with a
coal furnace. That meant there was a coal bin in the cellar. For some
unknown reason it had been sealed off with a partial partition. With Winter
coming on Elle had been after me to create a play area for the kids down there
where they could leave their things and not have to hide them away like
when they would play in the living room. When I tore the partition down I
found a lot of pure junk along with a few lumps of coal. I was
particularly intrigued with a pail filled with what looked like solid
tubes of cast iron and with a small hole in one end. I found there were
three distinct lengths when I laid them out on the floor. I didn’t have
the faintest idea what they were or what they were for. “B” had stopped
by with some racing parts catalogs for me to look at and while he was
there I ran down into the cellar and fetched a few of the mysterious
items. He laughed when I emerged with them in my hands. They were
sash weights.
I remember looking at him and it must’ve been a
blank stare because he continued to laugh. Finally, he pointed to a
window and explained that they were counter weights that allowed windows
to remain open. I won’t say that the “lights“ went on at that moment
but it did give me an idea on how to fix the attic trap door. The
following weekend I bought some cheap pulleys, clothes line and some
miscellaneous hardware and headed to the attic with a bunch of the old
sash weights. I spent a whole morning up there but when I came down for
lunch I’d made it so it was no longer an ordeal to get up there. Then I
made a "stop” so that it wouldn’t fall all the way over and crash to the floor. I
was pleased with myself.
After I finished cleaning up the
mess I’d made, drilling holes and the like, I took a good look around.
There was flooring that went from one end to the other and it was about
6’ wide. At the West (chimney) end there was a pile of material. I went
over to explore it and found it was a couple of feather mattresses. I
remembered the ones at my grandparents house when I was a very young boy
and the fun my brother and I had jumping into them. As I looked at them
I wondered if they had any value. What I was really looking for a place
to hide the box that held my “stash” of panties. Back when the house
was built (early 30’s) the wood measured what it said it was (a 2 x 4
was, indeed, a 2“ by 4” piece of wood). I was looking down at the open
beams and suddenly realized that with 8 inch beams I could hide the box
under the flooring I was standing on. I grabbed the box and it slid,
easily, under the floor. At that point I was really pleased with myself.
I’d made the attic useable AND found a place to hide my “stash”.
I’d
been convinced to join "Big B" and his friends, “the unmarrieds“ on their
”excursion“. ”B“ had cleared the way with Elle but, in spite of my best
efforts, all he would tell me was that we’d be fishing and it was a really
good time. Pete. one of the group, would get to use his father’s power
boat a few times each year and the ”excursion“ signaled the end of the
boating season. It was election day so I was off and ”B“ picked me up.
At the marina the others were already gathered. I saw multiple fishing
rods, a couple of cases of beer, a cooler and, most puzzling, a card
table and some folding chairs. We loaded the stuff on the boat and
headed out. At the mouth of the creek was a fairly long jetty that had
been constructed to protect it from Easterly storms. Pete took the boat
around the end of it and promptly anchored. I was puzzled. Not big into
fishing, I’d been out with Elle’s father enough times to know where the
fish were usually found and this spot certainly wasn’t it. The guys
baited their hooks and dropped their lines overboard. I just stood and
watched. After that was done they secured the rods to the handrails and
then disappeared into the cabin.
What the ”excursion” really was
was a floating card game. Yes, there was some fishing, if you stretched
your imagination. There were six of us and only room for five to play.
There would be a rotation about every half hour where the guy who was
sitting out would go outside and monitor the fishing rods. By noon we had
about six small flounder. When it became my turn to go out and get cold
(it was in the 30’s) I noticed that there was now a small fleet of boats
all around us all with fishing rods over the side. I’d heard Elle’s father say
that weekend fishermen were nothing more than copycats. choosing to
follow rather than to go out and find fish themselves. I went back
inside and told the others about our “guests” and they all laughed.
To be continued...
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