Meaningful Glances

Today is the penultimate day of our tenancy in the swamp house. My wife, a post-grad educated woman of no mean intelligence or wit, has these funny slips where she'll forget a word but try to get something out anyway. A few days ago, in anticipation of today, she said something like this: "Hey, we're comin' up on that - what do you call it.....pentecostal?

Yes, love - hallelujah, the Spirit is moving and so are we! Despite the best of our intentions, the house still looks a little too cluttered for a penultimate (or a pentecostal!) day. Anyone who's moved can sympathize with the realization that sets in at about this time: all of this has to be moved...tomorrow! There is still junk to be sorted through, part of the kitchen to pack, things to be cleaned, and the regular routine to keep up at the same time. So I repeat to myself what's become a bit of a mantra around here - "Don't worry, it'll all get done...because it has to get done." Of course, the previous three days of punishing heat haven't helped the process much. According to the nearest weather tracking station to us, the mercury rose to just over 109 degrees here yesterday. 109! In a low-lying river valley! Officially, or so I read, Portland topped out at 106 yesterday, one degree shy of the all-time record high. Portland, however, is officially tracked at the airport, which sits right on the Columbia river and is prone to be a little more breezy than here. I'm tellin' my grandkids it was 109.

Here's the good news, though - it's supposed to cool off to a refreshing 99 degrees today! Despite the cheekiness I'm sure you detect, that actually does sound refreshing right now. The back room where Evelyn and I are once again holed up for now is holding steady at around 72, but the air-conditioner has been running around the clock for three days straight. I'm excited (not really) to see the electricity bill next month!

So this is a kind of sign-off from the East Avenue house and from the Man Cave 2.0. It's been a good man cave, despite two floods and a skunk attack. There has been no shortage of look-back-and-laugh-about-it moments in the four years we've lived here, starting from the first or second night we stayed here when we noticed a large slug on the ceiling directly above our bed, and straight on through to the aforementioned skunk attack and everything in between. I'm sure the laughs will be easy and carefree down the road, but right now the laughs are a little more...vengeful. We made a list last night of things the landlords may want to address before trying to rent this little gem out again. This is something I offered to actually do for them, since they haven't hardly set foot on the property in this month after we gave notice. Some of the things we wrote on our list last night won't make the final cut, but we had a good laugh about them, anyway. Brigetta wanted to do the writing because she thought it would be therapeutic, so I dictated all the things I could think of that were legitimate issues. Brigetta filled in a few of her own that brought me to tears with laughter when I read them later. Foremost among them, somewhere between "ANTS everywhere" and "Idiot neighbor dog barks incessantly" was this item about a squatter that lives in a trailer on the north end of the property: "Richard dumps large milk jugs of brown urine on your property." Pardon me while I wipe away another tear or two. You see, it's funny because it's true. The guy doesn't have any indoor plumbing and I can hardly blame him for not wanting to walk to Safeway every time nature calls, but there really isn't anything quite like looking out your window and seeing a rather large man pouring out a gallon milk container full of his own waste about 30 feet from your fence. Gross? Yeah. Priceless? I think so. A great memory to leave you with before we get out of dodge? Definitely. So long from the swamp, folks!