A ho-hum day. I don’t feel like doing much. It’s patchy day in terms of both weather and mood.
I decide to make myself a mid-week “weekend breakfast.” We have eggs. I go to Thriftys and buy some bagels and sausages. Back home, I open the spice cupboard above the oven. A pantry moth flys out.
A year ago we had them bad. I’d call it an infestation. I went through every item in our pantry and spice cupboard and either cleaned it or threw it out. I meticulously scrubbed every surface, taking out the shelves so I could scrub all sides. I bought air-tight containers for flour sugar, crackers, spices etc. And I bought traps. The sticky traps contain a wee little pad soaked in female hormones.
A year later, we’ve found no infected food. But our little cardboard traps (bent twice to form a triangle) are full-disgustingly full- of male moths who thought they were entering some sort of A-frame orgy house.
These traps catch only the males, and I have no idea where they are now coming from. I can’t help but wonder if there is an equal number of females loose in the house, laying eggs on some un-discovered crumb under the microwave. Every once in a while, like today, I see a free-flying moth, and I assume it’s female. I’m like a dog after a squirrel.
While most people would probably reach out with both hands and trap them in a hand clap, I can’t do that with my right shoulder replacement. I’ve become quite adept at shooting out my left hand with lightning speed and catching them in my fist. If nothing else, I figure it’s a good for improving my left-handed reaction time. Sometimes I feel like Mr. Miyagi: “Man who catch fly with chopsticks (or in my case, left hand) accomplish anything.”
On another topic, yesterday Mike brought out the step ladder to open the upper bedroom windows. I asked him to leave it so I could deal with the dusty fan in the bedroom. Silly me. Now I feel obligated.
So, feeling I should be at least a little productive today when I don’t feel like being productive at all, I decide that, at minimum, I will clean out the spice cupboard (again) and dust the ceiling fan in the bedroom. Two things.
So, I work on both the cupboard and the fan during the course of the day, cleaning a little, resting a little.
The ceiling fan turns out to be more challenging than I thought. I grab a cloth, set up the ladder, and carefully perch myself two steps from the top. As I wipe a blade, the lightest stroke of the cloth sets the fan spinning. Ideally, I’d use my left hand to hold the blade steady while my right hand gives it a firm wipe.
I so miss being able to work with both hands above my head. This should take only a couple minutes. It seems to take forever as I make literally hundreds of swipes of the cloth across a damn perfectly balanced fan that spins with every light whisp. It’s a farce. Even with many rests, my left shoulder is getting sore.
Cleaning out that spice cupboard only adds to the problem. Some things are just slower and harder. But by the end of the day, both chores are done! Fucking hurrah! How sad is that? That’s my day. Nonetheless, as I look at the fan and at that cupboard, I think to myself, “Pretty good, Geoff. Pretty good for a ho-hum day.”