Slowly but surely all the books and glassware will find their places

East flower bed, Garland Co. library - PL

 

 

                I thought I lived in a safe neighborhood, but in a Saline Courier “Dispatch” article last week, a woman on my road reported that “an individual” shot an arrow through her bedroom window. (Could that be why I awoke at 3 a. m. and couldn’t go back to sleep without a “tranquilizer”?)

                I once had a screen pierced by an arrow, but it was a toy arrow shot by 6-year-old Billy, who didn’t know any better at the time.

                Last Saturday was 53 years to the date that my first son was born. I’d never have dreamed that on that anniversary, I would write a thousand words on Chapter 46 of my second novel. One person would call this news “self-promoting,” but if I don’t self- promote—also known as “tooting my own horn,” who will?

                 After emptying the three front rooms of everything for the floors to be refinished, I am slowly but surely washing all the windows—inside and out—plus brushing off the ancient screens. Already, two windows sport the cobalt blue pieces—all washed and sparkling—that prompted the name, The Blue Room.

                Slowly but surely, I’m going through all the manila folders in the four drawers of the filing cabinets. Do I really need to keep my college transcripts and contracts? My teacher evaluations? My aforementioned son said he didn’t see why I should.

                Slowly but surely, I’m taking each book in hand, deciding if I really want/need to read it, and if so, typing in the particulars and returning it to a shelf. Libraries can always use my give-aways in their used book sales (Saline County) or their used-book room (Garland County). Billy retrieved Kafka's The Trial and Lois Lowry's The Giver from the latest sack of give-aways, but left them behind when he went back “home” to Arkadelphia. I placed them in the bookshelf in his old-but-new room (new carpet, curtains and bed linens).

 I just looked at The Arrangement by E. Kazan that I bought 18 years ago and still haven’t read. After looking up the reviews on Amazon, I decided to give it away. Maybe someone else will read what one person describes as the “best-selling novel of 1967.”

                Slowly but surely, I’m washing all the crystal and Cape Cod glass before returning the collections to the china cabinets. I plugged in the light in Mom’s humongous cabinet, a light that she could never use. There was no plug close to it until I had the electrician install one when he rewired the entire house.

                I placed my wedding china (1960-vintage Franciscan, a whopping $4.00 for a dinner plate) in the top shelf to enjoy with the light on. Before this, most of it lay hidden behind a lower door.

                And in between those tasks, I finished Chapter 46 in the sequel to A Journey of Choice (BTW, I still have plenty of books to sell), worked on three prose pieces for a contest due the 25^th and finished and submitted the latest newspaper column.

                I believe I'll have a nap.