The Clothing Chair

This morning, I went to the corner of Gilbert and Broadway and asked of three young men would get into my car and come to my home and help me clean up some of the debris left by the several trades who recently concluded their construction activities on my house. They agreed and climbed into my car. I listened to the radio on the way home.

When I arrived at home, I went to the back yard and began describing, in my best international sign language invented by the same guys who invented talking louder to foreigners so they can understand better. I described – digitally -- my desires for the garbage, wires, concrete, insulation, dust, dirt, rocks, wood, cultured marble, paper, pipe, nails, plastic, drywall, and other materials to be removed from the house and place gently and lovingly in my 40-yard, $330 per dump dumpster. They agreed and the sweeping and shoveling began. As they started picking up the smaller things, I began removing the larger things such as shower doors, lights, planks and marble splash. There was a wall that had a sheet of cultured marble that had not been removed yet, so after I took the large stuff, I busted that thing off the wall.

Three hours, three carnitas burritos from Filibertos, three large cokes, and some cash later I had a remarkably clean workspace ready for inspection.

Meanwhile, Debi was cleaning up for Jeannie. This is always a delightful event culminating with every piece of dirty laundry piled knee-deep in the laundry room. I did not know, however, that you could use a stack of dirty laundry as a chair. I went to visit her in the laundry and she was sitting on a stack of laundry while folding, sorting, and searching other laundry. I wondered, silently, where she sat when she completed all the laundry in front of her and had no material to work with except that upon which she sat. I didn’t ask.