BACK TO REALITY... Same ole, same ole (Part 165b)

BACK TO REALITY… Same ole, same ole (Part 165b)

As always, one benefit of going to the stock brokers office was a chance to see Lynda. There was always the chance to get a panty peek but, aside form that I liked her positive personality. However, I should’ve called to see if she was there. Walking in to the office it was like a morgue. Ruthe was there but only a couple of the lower lever brokers were in sight. I knew Ruthe could give me the information I wanted but I’d get it without the banter and smile that Lynda provided. It was obvious she was busy but did make an effort to see what I wanted. Being new to stock trading I was a little apprehensive after buying a new stock. I’d only seen a stateside newspaper on one afternoon and had been unable to locate the detail on my stock. Ruthe pulled it up for me and I was pleasantly surprised that it had gained a few points in the week that I’d been in Bermuda. I was about to leave when she asked what I thought of Stan’s (my broker) house as she knew I'd been invited to his party. It was refreshing to she her relax a bit. As I’ve posted before, hidden below the modest way she chose to present herself, she really was nice and somewhat attractive. Stan had told me she’d been married to a real prick who’d brutally beaten her. Her view of the male population was definitely skewed by her experience. However, over the past few times I’d seen her there had been a definite improvement, at least towards me.

There was plenty to do at work but I chose to head home at 5pm. The lawn hadn’t been cut in over a week and even though it was now September it was still Summer and the grass kept right on growing. There was also the specter of Elle wanting me to make sure the rodent(s) were out of the basement. I stopped at the hardware store to get a couple of traps that I hoped would appease Elle. On that subject, Elle greeted me with a job to do for her and that was to put a load of wash in for her before supper. I’d run the one load before leaving for work which took care of the kid’s underwear but there were four piles of laundry waiting on the kitchen floor. One was a combination of both her underwear and mine. She always washed them separately from everything else. I chose that pile and, with the traps and bait, headed for the cellar. My hope was that whatever was down there would be mice. I was almost to the bottom step when I saw something flash past me. It was too small for a squirrel and I’d never seen a mouse (or rat) with a furry tail. Now that I’d actually seen something in the cellar I had a ’target’. The only thing was since I didn’t know what the critter was I didn’t know what to use for bait. I got the wash started and went upstairs to eat. To appease Elle’s questions I just told her I’d set out the traps but didn’t tell her that I’d not put any bait in them. However, she said she wasn’t gong down to the cellar until I could prove I’d caught whatever it was that was down there.

The grass was really high and it was a struggle getting it done. I was looking for a reason to take a break and Elle gave me one. She came out to tell me there was a phone call from the lady in charge of the church’s new Thrift Shoppe. I’d help set it up the Saturday before we left on vacation and had a strong feeling there would be problems. The women’s auxiliary had solicited donations to stock the shop before the opening which was scheduled for the upcoming Saturday. Her problem? Too much stuff… and she didn’t know what to do with it. She wanted me to come up with a place to store the “extras”. My first reaction was to tell her I had no ideas for her but, since I hadn’t yet brought the Sunfish home from the sailing club… So, with the lawn not finished I headed for the church.

When I pulled in the church parking lot I could see a LOT of stuff piled in front of the door to the undercroft (basement). To me, it looked like a lot of plain old junk/trash… but I was not there to judge. I had a key and when I went inside I couldn’t believe my eyes. To get them started I'd set up six tables and two mobile hanging racks. Now, there were so many clothes piled on each of the tables that I wondered how anybody would be able to find anything. While looking the place over, the lady who’d called me showed up. I had to ask where it had all come from. I remember her making a face and after hesitating for a few seconds admitted that she wasn’t sure there would be enough things for the opening and that she’d run an advertisement in the weekly paper asking for donations. And they came… and kept coming. I motioned to the pile of stuff outside the door and said that it appeared that people had dropped their junk off at the church rather than drive it to the landfill. She didn’t appreciate my comment and, pointedly, asked if I would store it until the ladies could go through it. I debated with myself for a short time before giving her a qualified answer. Since the original idea was for the shoppe to sell used clothing I told her I’d store clothes that were boxed but not all the other “crap” and pointed to an obviously damaged kids bike and some dented pots and pans. Her sour facial look returned but then agreed. To ease the tenseness the situation I offered to take the rejected things to the landfill. It would mean getting up really early and getting the stuff to the landfill before leaving for work. I really didn’t want to but it was for the benefit of the church. As I loaded boxes and bags of clothes into the station wagon she started talking about the woman who’d been killed in the recent car crash. She made it clear how sad it was that she’d committed suicide. As I wrote earlier I didn’t know the woman but it bothered me that this lady was so positive that she’d deliberately crashed her car. Her ‘know it all attitude’ bothered me and I wanted to get away from her so I said that I’d only be able to store them for a few weeks as I’d need the space by October. Without waiting for her response I got in and drove away. In looking back on the situation I should’ve been a little less harsh but she really annoyed me.

At home Elle saw me unloading all the stuff and expressed surprised that I’d agreed to do it. In reality, I was too and by the time I’d gotten it all in the garage was mad at myself. Elle, always curious, started peering into some of the bags. I told her not to get involved but that didn’t stop her. I wasn’t going to argue as I still had to finish the lawn and it was starting to get dark. By the time I finished Elle had gone through all the bags and had a pile of things she’d picked out, exactly what I didn’t want to see. When I started to comment on it she said she’d take it to the Thrift Shoppe on Saturday and pay for it with her own money. The whole Thrift Shoppe matter was quickly getting out of hand.

Elle reminded me that there was a finished load of wash down in the basement. I'd already forgotten about it and the rodent problem as well. The light for the basement was on the hall wall and I flipped it on and opened the door. Looking down the stairs I saw the furry little critter and it came to me just what it was... a chipmunk. Chipmunks are, at worst, pests but nothing to be afraid of. What I didn't know was to use as bait to catch them. Pulling the laundry out of the machine I decided a trip to the County Agriculture Department at lunch was in order.

To be continued…