Here it is, the first Friday of October and what a gorgeous Friday it is. The sun is shining, the air is crisp and the trees in my area are turning the most glorious shades of red and orange and yellow. In fact, today is so lovely that I should be enjoying it on my cottage deck.
But I can’t do that today, for “I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep”. With credit to Robert Frost for that beautiful line of poetry.
“Promises?” you say.
Yes, today I promised myself that I would tackle at least a couple of the tasks that have been blips on my “To Do” radar recently. Nothing too hard. Nothing that a 61-year-old out-of-shape woman couldn’t do on her own.
First on my list was to clean the lint out of my dryer’s outside vent. Sounded simple enough.
“Clean the lint out of the vent?” you say.
Yes. Who even knew that this is something that is supposed to be done more often than every five years? Not me, that’s for sure.
Luckily though my brother moved back to my area of the country and one day he discovered that his dryer’s outside vent was really clogged with a
s*#t load lot of lint that was once likely socks and underwear and perhaps an occasional missing hand towel. So he cleaned the vent and my sister-in-law mentioned to me that I may want to do the same thing to mine as it was likely the reason my dryer has been taking FOREVER to dry my clothes and bedding and towels these last few years.
Good advice, for sure, and I try to listen to good advice, so this afternoon I grabbed a small green garbage bag, donned a pair of work gloves and tramped through the tall, dense vegetation that took over the back of my house this past summer, until I was close enough to the dryer vent to examine it.
The actual vent opening was covered by three louvers to allow for warm air to escape from the vent but still keep unwanted rodent-type visitors from entering my home via the vent. Very sensible.
I immediately noticed that the bottom louver on my vent was cracked in a couple of places and thought to myself, Self, be careful not to break the louver right off when you’re digging around in there to grab the lint.
And I was careful. Honestly, I was.
But the bottom louver, or fin or whatever that thing is called, snapped into three pieces the minute I began to poke around it. Ahhhhhhhhhh! Insert bad words here.
I pulled out
about a trailer full a bit of lint from the vent then trekked back into the house, bag of lint and work gloves and pieces of broken louver in hand.
What to do. What to do.
“When in trouble”, my husband used to say, “rely on duct tape. Duct tape is your friend.”
Fortunately I keep a roll of plain silver duct tape in my kitchen odds-and-sods drawer and with it I managed to tape the louver together again, even going so far as to add a toothpick-splint to it good measure.
Back to the outside vent I went and I wiggled the
sad-looking good-as-new louver into place. Perfect fit. My husband and Red Green and maybe even MacGyver would be proud of me.
I’m not sure how long this fin will hold, not sure if it will make it through even one Canadian winter, but for now it is doing its job–let dryer air out, not let unwanted visitors in.
One task completed, one hundred thousand more to go.
But first, I decided that I should check the latest news on Facebook; the world may have changed significantly since I was last plugged in to a social network.
And it had. In a good way. In a very good way. Very, very good.
Want to know what has changed? I just bet you do.
Well, one of my very favorite actors/entertainers is heading back to a small screen near me, and I couldn’t be more chuffed see how I’ve slipped in a British term in honor of said actor.
Yes, you read this correctly. According to a news report on Facebook, Hugh Laurie is going to star in an upcoming espionage drama based on John le Carre’s 1993 novel The Night Manager, and I am indeed chuffed to bits to read this. Chuffed to the highest order of bits. Blissfully chuffed to bits.
I could have stayed on the couch, being blissfully chuffed to bits, all afternoon, but I knew that I’d better get back to work on my list of jobs to tackle, so I did. I feel I should mention, however, that this time it was a very chuffed 61-year-old woman who would be tackling the jobs.
Next week is ‘big garbage pick up’ in my neck of the woods, and I must have all of my big garbage at the curb by Monday morning, so I decided to begin the process of gathering up some of the
useless junk items I am no longer chuffed with that clutter my home and garage and to drag said items to the curb.
I rolled out an old tire that belonged to a car I no longer own, a vacuum cleaner power nozzle that no longer has any power in its nozzle to vacuum, and two garbage bags of…well…garbage, from my garage.
By the time I plunked the garbage bags alongside the tire and power nozzle the afternoon was over and I had to head back into the house and get ready to go out with some family members for an evening of entertainment by local musicians who offered their time in support of a worthy cause.
In fact, I just arrived back home from the event and am toddling off to bed soon, but I wanted to finish filling you in on my Friday before I call it a night.
The musical groups this evening were great to listen to and included fiddlers and step dancers as young as six and as old as — well, I’ll just say that quite a few of the entertainers were older than six. Much older. Much much older. Okay, old. But wonderful musicians.
Did I mention that Hugh Laurie is also a wonderful musician? No? Well, he is. And if he had been at the hall tonight to entertain the crowd in support of the worthy cause then I would have been chuffed to bits. Blissfully chuffed to bits. Very chuffed.
The End. Goodnight.
PS–did you count how many times in this post I used the word ‘chuffed’ and the word ‘very’. No? I didn’t either but I’m pretty sure it was more than six. Maybe a lot more than six. Probably very much more than six, and that makes me wonder if that is what feeling chuffed does to a person, makes them ignore all the writing rules that they normally follow.
Okay, now it’s really the end of my night. The very end. I’m sure you’ll be very chuffed that I’m finally going to bed and will not be using the words ‘chuffed’ or ‘very’ any more tonight.
So, goodnight from me. And remember, don’t be a stranger.