I really thought I could trust him. Home alone Monday through Friday all summer , while myself
and the kids were tucked away on the corner of "Easy Street" and "You got It Made Boulevard" in LBI.
(Thanks for the reference, Ruth) I remained on the Island the entire summer in 2009. No treks back
for Doctor's visits, no pressing appointments that couldn't wait till September, just LBI for ten weeks
straight. Then I went home...........I've learned my lesson. My husband cannot be trusted with the house.
My first clue was the dead lawn in front of our home. When I last glimpsed it in my rear view mirror in
June, it was a lush green carpet, brimming with vitality. No resemblance to the parched weedy patch
of dirt my house sat upon. I feared my house plants had suffered a similar fate. I was right. Inside my
home, every appliance and electronic device winked and texted PF, PF, PF (power failure...OMG!) In
other words a power outage had occurred sometime over the preceding ten weeks, and nothing had
been re-set. The mystery of the neglected lawn was solved! The GFI switch for the sprinkler system had
been tripped during the outage. Judging by the lawn condition, I would put the outage at approximately
8 hours after I pulled out of town.
I made a brief reconnaissance of the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. In the freezer I found my carefully
wrapped "just heat it up" dinners, under a two inch protective layer of permafrost. Well at least dinner
for our first night home was taken care of. The refrigerator looked mighty empty, except for a gallon
jug of juice, with a 1/8 of an inch left, assorted condiments, 4 or 5 items that had overstayed their
welcome, and fishing bait. The real treat was behind door number one, the pantry. When a potato
goes bad, it goes real bad! I won't traumatize you with any descriptions, let's just say open windows,
fans, and a multitude of sanitizers were put into play. Unfortunately there was a high percentage of
collateral damage to adjacent items . Let me tell you, there is no such thing as a non-perishable when a
potato has gone to the dark side.
Next stop, bathrooms. All in all, reasonably clean much better then what I had anticipated. Sadly
I am still the only member of our household that possesses the skill set needed to change the toilet
paper rolls. In every bathroom, a single sheet clung to the tube, waving in the breeze, while new rolls
perched jauntily on the tank. Every seat was in its upright position, ready for takeoff.
Later, I was called upon to print out some forms for school . The grinding sound
emanating from the printer did not bode well. A massive paper jam, one that required tools and the
removal of a back panel . Apparently someone that shall not be named, must have added a huge
sheaf of paper, while printing was in progress. When the crinkled mess was removed , I noticed the date
on the jammed page. This jam had been committed the day after The children and I headed south. Oh,
and by the way, the printer was out of ink.
I slowly worked my way through the house, making minor repairs, replacing burnt out bulbs, putting
dishes in their rightful places, knowing I only had my naive trusting self to blame. Later that night,
when I thought my work was done, I turned on the bedroom TV, and ole! The shows were all being
televised in Spanish. El senor of the house had somehow managed to change our TV from English to
Spanish, but wasn't quite sure how to reverse the process. I now grasped the significance of His
greeting " Hola, Senora," welcome home.
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