Mangled Manuscript Monday
Gut Wadding. A colloquial term invented over fifty years ago by a busy farmwoman during gardening season. As in: “I could get something done around here if I didn’t have to stop and fix gut wadding for the men.”
My version of ‘gut wadding’ set me back on my wip. Blogging went by the wayside as well. Because of my inattention, I haven’t visited my blogger-buddies as I should. I apologize.
But Life and major repairs to the house took over nearly every second of the day. Up at 3:30 am and asleep by eight in the evening. Trips to town to get the paint I didn’t know we’d need and the trim that I didn’t know I had to buy.
Re-modeling. Going from a two-step kitchen (one step, hit the fridge; another step, hit the stove) to a massive family room and lots of cabinet space. Never again will I have to store my pans and pottery in the garage or laundry room. A revelation, to be sure.
And a shower. The flooring under our nearly hundred-year-old tub was gone. I mean one leg was hanging over empty space. Termites and water damage was about to drop our first story bath into the basement. Quite a sinking feeling.
I love old houses and the neat cast iron sink and tub. But at some point, there must be a reckoning with age and the damage done in those years. Time to go from 1919 to 2012 in a hurry.
At some point, I’ll clean up the plaster dust on my computer table and get back to normal. Until then, find a tall glass of tea and a good book.
As Ahhnold said, “I’ll be back.”