We took our three-season screened porch down yesterday. It’s a marker, the neighbors say, that red-lines reality from fall into winter. Reality that the first inch of our annual 48 inches of snow is due any day now.
Once again, Young Tom hired out to help us. He’s in his fifties. The task is just too much for us. We would have to set our pacemakers on stun to even attempt it alone – all that reaching, pulling, straining, hauling. Nope. It’s much easier to supervise. The Mystery Woman was born to supervise.
As the porch makes the passage from season to season, our world changes. Each year, we rush to set up our gauzy screen on the front porch. We start and end most every day in the little sanctuary. And, quite naturally, we drag our heels at taking it down.
But we must. The snows, the snows.
To honor the change, we put down a fire shield, drug out the fire extinguisher from the kitchen, set up the fire pit and whoosh, we enjoyed a fire on the front porch. A little early. The night-time temps were in the 60’s but the neighbors just smiled. They like to see old folks having fun -- near food and shelter.
For months, I have been saving any paperwork that might be useful if someone wanted to steal my identity. Don't laugh. The bastards already got most of my hair.
So last night, I burned the bills in the first fire of the season. Probably illegal. Not too smart, either. This morning, I discovered a piece of a torn check that included all the necessary numbers along with my name and address.
Wine makes you go blind.