10, 9, DONE!
And, counting down the days left at the restaurant - told, first, that we'd be open until after the Thanksgiving Long Weekend. Then, on Thursday, the owners are discussing the possibility of closing after the weekend. I'm thrilled, naturally. Friday morning it's decided - Friday is to be the last day. That's the notice. Today, beginning the deep clean of the restaurant, menial, mindless work for which I'm grateful, perhaps a weeks worth all told, then back to the mountains with my pick and shovel to gather my winters supplies...
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The Shit that cleaned the toilet
This happened a few years ago, while I was staying at the guesthouse of a friend. I'd go upstairs for a game of backgammon, occasionally take a leak, and marvel at the state of her toilet.
The toilet, 70's porcelain, peach or flesh colored with a fur cover and rug around the base. Inside, below the waterline, grew a thick matt of algae, black. I marveled that she never cleaned it, and good manners forbid pointing it out (it was obvious, after all). I'd check on it whenever I was up for a visit and had need to pee, half expecting that that stream of urine would dislodge some fauna, crabs or starfish creeping around the bowl...
...now, a disclaimer, as they were on septic they argued against the use of harsh chemicals to clean their toilet. And - as I am a long way from even being a mediocre housekeeper, well, I'm not in a position to throw stones.
Anyways, one day, up for a visit and I have to lay some pipe. A good, 2 foot long very solid turd. And, bidding it goodbye and flushing the toilet what should happen but the turd should rise up on the waves, swirl round the bowl and in one smooth motion tear the entire algae/matt off and take it down the whirlpool...
I left the toilet shouting for my friend, able to keep my silence no longer: "...my SHIT just cleaned your TOILET...!!!"
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...like changing captains on the Titanic
I mean, this whole US Election thing, it's like watching them try and change Captains on the Titanic after they've hit the Iceberg. This disaster has been a while in the making. And Trump, sure, all he's done is jettison the lifeboats, but I gotta say, the ship is still going down...
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Meanwhile, Stormy
He's been getting up and around, hitchhiking out to Balfour to pay me visits, bring me sacks of rubbish he's gathered from free piles (and always a few scrolls), it's good to see him off his scooter, coming into the restaurant to lord it over me, get free salads, fries, desserts, then complain about the prices...
He sits on the beach, enjoys the view, stops and talks to the customers (!!STORMY - STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!).
I go around to visit him at his apartment - the artist in his studio:
The marionette of the Mexican with the Ukulele, the hula girl doll, I found them in a free pile and hung them on his doorknob...he's arranged them festively with some Xmas ornaments.
He assures me he's been cleaning out his place, tidying up...
A short visit, the smell grows unbearable, the only way you'd know is if you were a CSI that showed up a month late to the death of a hoarder, there's a body in here somewhere, and he's inviting me for dinner, he's going to make it, amazing, and I can't even breathe in here, let alone imagine eating food, but it's a week away and I'll just have to deal with it when the time comes...
And the treasures just pile up in the back of the jeep and I'm afraid to unbox them...
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