J bought a pressure washer. Heaven help us all. I think a pressure washer in the hands of a personality such as his may be dangerous.
This weekend, he decided that the fence needed cleaning. Yes, the FENCE. I really don't know how one goes about deciding that the fence needs cleaning, because I can honestly say that I've never heard of anyone undertaking this particular project, but hey.
In the usual vein of HIS projects becoming OUR projects, I found myself spending a lovely Saturday evening ridding our fence of the oxidized gunk that turns the wood from brown to grey. I have named this gunk fence cheese. Charming, no? Since I'm reasonably sure I'm the only person who has ever pressure washed a wooden privacy fence, I feel pretty comfortable about being the one to pioneer the terminology that goes along with it, so fence cheese it is and evermore shall be. The thing is, I don't really mind the fence cheese, and I kind of like the mossy parts. But apparently J has decided that it ruins the integrity of the wood, which I'm not sure I buy. Other people's fences do just fine with it. I most DEFINITELY don't care about it enough for that to be the way I'd choose to spend any single Saturday of my God-given life. And yet, here I am with newly pressurized sections of fence, gleaming a newish-looking tan color once again.
Last night - one of the very few school-free evenings I have lately - was basically the same thing. It turns out that we have a lot of fence. I have never, ever been so well aware of how much fence we have. So the (no longer) free time of my foreseeable future will most likely be spent ridding the world of fence cheese, one slat at a time. Because obviously it will need to be done to the outside of the fence, too, right? We must share the joy of our newly revitalized fence with all of the neighborhood! I'm kind of afraid to ask how often J thinks this needs to be done.
As it turns out, I haven't ended up with my father or my mother, or any of that Freudian poo.
J was outside long past dark last night, after I had already come in, pressure-washing the patio, and I had a very strong flashback of Uncle Ray. THAT'S who I've wound up with. He very pleased afterward about how great the patio looked, and what a huge difference it had made. I do like to see him happy, but...egads, can you guys imagine if Uncle Ray had owned a pressure washer?!
I love this man. But boy, when he gets an idea in his head...
3 comments:
Oh Amie you have such a way of making a (probably not so funny to you) situation very humorous. I definately had my first & possibly only laugh of the day when I read your blog this morning. You are so funny! I couldn't agree with you more. You have an Uncle Ray. Wouldn't J & Uncle Ray just thoroughly love each other! Can you imagine the two together? No project would remain undone & there would be no grime to be found! Not really such a bad concept if we could have put them together at my house & left for a day or two. We would come home to a very nice house. Haha.
Hope you have a good day.
Love, Mom
You know...I think J might have been the ONLY man who would ever have been good enough for Uncle Ray's precious little girl! Now I'm going to be amusing myself all day long imagining them together. That would have been priceless to watch!
And more than a little scary.
Okay, first let me say that I am amazed how the two of you write so much alike. Why am I amazed? Afterall, you are mother and daughter!!!
Secondly, OH MY, another Uncle Ray!!!! That is a very scary thought. Unc liked Kerry too, because he was a bit A.R. and spoke his mind. I'm not sure whether Mike ever had an opportunity to knock Kerry off of the Uncle Ray pedestal, as the "perfect" match for me. So, I guess in my case, Uncle Ray didn't have the best RAY-dar!!!!!!!!
Love ya,
JJ
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