Errand Day

Stop 1: The Post Office

"Drop this in there," I told Heidi, handing her the prepaid box and gesturing to the big silver door on the package bin. 

"Just put it in?" she asked. "Then what?"

"Close it," I advised. "It will drop when you do." She was skeptical, and I laughed when she opened it back up and peeked in to be sure, because I do that every single time.

Stop 2: The Pet Store

"We'll take one of these, too," I said, handing a reusable bag to the cashier.

"There's no tag," she noted, and so I compliantly found another bag that had one.

"Just ring this one, and give us the one without the tag," I suggested helpfully. "That way you can avoid this situation next time."

She nodded and pulled the trigger of her scanning gun. Nothing happened. She tapped the monitor on her register a few times, but without success. Next, she called to a coworker, but he couldn't do it either and went to fetch the manager.

"They're free!" he called from the door of his office.

"Great!" I laughed. "We'll take ten."

Stop 3: The Off-Price Department Store

"I'm hungry," I said to Heidi as we waited in line. "These look good," I continued, grabbing a bag of "probiotic chocolates" from the displays that lined our way to the register. 

Flipping over the bag, I read the origin story out loud. I love chocolate, it started. I love my gut, it continued. So I followed my gut and made a bite that loves both.

"Sold!" my hunger replied, and I tossed them in the cart.

Stop 4: The Grocery Store

"I need to run to the ladies' room," I told Heidi as we wheeled our cart in, and I peeled off through the cafe seating. 

On my way to the facilities, I passed several people on laptops, four tables of families eating lunch, an eight-top of women laughing and chatting in Vietnamese, three ladies playing Mahjong, and a couple of guys a few years older than me playing Risk.

All that and groceries, too!

Last stop: Home

I'm going to miss running errands with Heidi when she goes back to work!

Live Demonstration

I looked up at the light tapping on my kitchen window. "Sorry," a young man mouthed, then crooked his finger at me to come to the door.

Noting the plumbing company logo on his hat, I nodded, then wiped my hands and went to see what he wanted. I assumed they were there to fix the common spigot in the courtyard, which had sprayed everywhere when Heidi and I tried to use it to hose off our floor mats.

"It seems to be working," he said, showing me the fixture. He turned the hose on, and his partner picked it up and gestured to the water flowing freely through it. "If this black ring is up, though," he pointed to a fixture on the spigot, "it might leak."

"The problem is that if there is a nozzle or any other pressure on the hose, the ring slips and it sprays everywhere," I told him.

"Like this?" His partner bent the hose to create some pressure on the line, and the black ring flipped up, spraying water all over me.

Both plumbers looked at me wide-eyed.

"I'm so sorry--" the guy with the hose started, but stopped when he saw me laughing.

"It's fine," I said, shaking off the water. "Refreshing! And even better? You can see the problem for yourself!"

Open and Closed

"If it's an open casket, I'm not going up," Mimi told us as we got in the car for the drive out to the funeral home in Manassas for French's memorial gathering. She shook her head. “The last body I saw was my mother's after she passed, and I told myself that was enough for one lifetime."

We completely understood, and as we drove, I thought about how old-fashioned such a practice seems these days. Obviously, I respect any grieving family's choice in deciding how best to honor their loss, and I understand that people find closure and comfort in the tradition of seeing their loved one at rest. 

I don't find the practice shocking or morbid, but it does make me uncomfortable and, of course, sad to view the dead, and that was so today as well. 

"He looks pretty good," I told Mimi after Heidi and I had returned to our seats, which was true, based on my limited experience. 

"I'm glad," she said, "but I don't want to see."

I admired her self-awareness, and she does have a good point. 

Quick Turn Around

We went into Heidi's classroom today to replace the furniture after the summer deep clean and floor waxing. With help from her colleague Maggie, the three of us made quick work of the job, even with extra time for Heidi and Maggie to tweak the layout and order a few new items. 

The office staff seemed happy to have the extra company to break up the quiet of summer in a school, and they were chatty both when we arrived and when we left. "See you in a week!" they said cheerfully as we headed out into the mid-August afternoon. 

A week! I thought and shook my head. This year, school starts as late as it possibly can, given that Labor Day is September 7. But really? 

Where has the summer gone?

Fourth Time's the Charm

"You're the fourth guy who's tried to do the job," I told the deliveryman this morning. "I hope you can do it!"

"Four? Why?" he scoffed.

"No stacking kit, wrong stacking kit, short hoses," I sighed. "But I've got everything now." I gestured to the stacking kits and hoses piled neatly in the corner.

"How did he know he needed longer hoses if he never even pulled the machines out?" he asked.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe he just didn't want to carry them up the stairs."

"This is no problem," the guy assured me. 

And he was right! In less than 30 minutes, he and his partner had everything installed and running. "I hope you have the receipts for those," he pointed to the hoses and extra stacking kit.

"Oh, I do," I told him. "I sure do."

Broken Delivery Chain

We had the stacking kit ready to go when the delivery crew pulled up with our washer and dryer. As before, they sent an emissary to make first contact and scope out the job. To be honest, I didn't detect any change in his demeanor as we headed up the steps, but when we hit the landing and he eyed the installation space, he started talking fast. The upshot? They couldn't possibly install the appliances unless by some chance, we had longer hoses for the washer. 

He helpfully pulled out his phone and showed me the part. "It's standard," he reported. "You can get it anywhere." 

I proposed running to the nearest hardware store while they pulled the existing washer and dryer to haul away. "I can be right back."

"We can't wait," he told me. 

"Where are the rest of your jobs for the day?" I asked. "Can you come back?" 

He promised to speak to his dispatcher. "Not gonna lie," he shook his head sadly. "Prolly won't be possible."

And before the truck had pulled away, the job was marked "missed delivery." 

Even so, I went and got the hoses, hoping against hope that we would be able to do some laundry today, and then I called the company we had ordered from and firmly requested that they contact the "delivery partner" and direct them to add us to the end of the route. The agent put me on hold, and a few minutes later came back and reported my request was impossible. "Then cancel my order," I told him.

While I'd been waiting, I'd found the washer dryer ready to be purchased, delivered, and installed tomorrow from another purveyor. I have the hoses and the stacking kit, and the delivery window is 8 am to noon. 

"I don't believe it," Heidi said, and off she went to a neighbor's to wash a couple of loads of laundry.

Milkweed Munchers

At first, I thought it was a big pollen bloom. The vining milkweed, which really is a weed in our garden, the volunteer swamp milkweed, and the common milkweed were all covered in a coarse, bright yellow dust. But as I cleared the fence line, I became curious about the nature of this incursion, and so I did a photo search. 

It wasn't until I got the results that I pinched open the picture to magnify the canary-hued grains. 

They were bugs! Oleander aphids, to be exact, an invasive species from the Mediterranean that targets milkweed. The article I found assured me they probably wouldn't harm the milkweed, or any Monarch eggs or larvae sharing the plant with them, but they do compete for the same food source, absorbing toxins from the plant to make themselves taste gross to predators. That's why they are so brightly colored; it's a warning. Also, there are no male oleander aphids; they are all female clones, and they are born pregnant, which explains the rapid rate of infestation. 

That is borderline cool and yucky. I disposed of many of them in the course of weeding the garden, but there are still plenty around. Maybe a swarm of ladybugs will arrive next and gobble them all up.