Sometimes an idea has to percolate for years before it becomes a must-do, right now, right now. When it does, you’d best stand back.
If you remain in the vicinity, I am bound to ask you to lift, push, vacuum or unscrew something. If you hang around and try to offer advice, I will get embarrassingly cranky.
You see, I have thought this thing through for so long (you know, at 3 a.m.), I know exactly what I want to accomplish, and shall have it no other way. I call it my Queen mode.
Because I can’t continue to change residences every few years, as I did as an Air Force child, I settle for rearranging the furniture.
This weekend, as winter approaches, I finally decided the L-shaped couch in the TV/fireplace room must be reconfigured.
Up until that moment, I thought it had to remain attached at the corner, hence seriously limiting where one could put it. One side was way too long for one wall, so it either had its back to the fireplace, or it cut the room in half. This was no longer acceptable to the Queen.
So I got a hammer and my biggest screwdrivers out, planning to employ brute force, if needed, to switch the darned couch around to suit me.
Bonus! It was much easier than anticipated. I pried out one large staple, and had my sweet son-in-law (who foolishly hung around) unscrew two nuts from bolts.
Voila! The couch arm that was in the way came right off, and the two parts of the couch slid apart. I spent 10 minutes doing my happy dance (while vacuuming).
No surprise, we found six dog balls and assorted flotsam behind the couch, including a dead bird. Well, the bird was a surprise. Previous dog’s gifts have been inanimate objects.
My OCD got a delightful blast as I removed impressive clumps of dog hair, dust and cobwebs from the wee corners. I then rounded it out by vacuuming under the cushions, etc. Again, a short happy dance.
Now I am ready for the winter chill and coming rainstorms. We have wood for the fire and don’t (to my great relief) have to rehang the television.
Bring on the Halloween movie marathon. My slippers and I are ready.
Jean Gillette is a freelance writer who now realizes the floor needs cleaning. Contact her at [email protected].