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Autrices Image Page: Spring Clean

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Autrices Image Page

Pictures for Bemused Muse Posts!

This is a photo page for The Bemused Muse. I found myself getting angered when Blogger froze up while editing posts, so this is a place for photo links only. Each post should have a link back to the post you were reading.

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  • The Bemused Muse
    Tuesday, March 27, 2007
    Spring Clean

    Autrice is not one of those women who decorate for every bloody holiday known to mankind, although she will decorate for each season and may occasionally wave a Canadian flag on her Birthday (which happens to also be Canada Day – July 1. Her Fellow Americans seem to become rather pissed off when anyone celebrates a Canadian or Mexican holiday, hence the purposeful In-Your-Face flag waving.)

    The outside of Pembroke Cottage experiences only three seasons: Fall, Winter/Christmas and Spring/Summer. Monday was a perfect day, weather-wise, and Autrice endeavored to strip the last winter vestiges from the front porch. It was clashing with the Easter wreath.

    Removing the winter embellishments was not difficult. She could have stopped with simply tugging down the inner-porch festive accoutrements. Autrice, however, noticed several dirty spots on the ceiling of the porch. This was war.

    Out came the ladder, the bucket filled with Pine-Sol, a sponge and rag, the hose, and a tall glass of iced tea. Autrice removed the heavy iron furniture from the deck, scrubbed down the first storey of the house (only the front, mind) as well as the windows and screens, the porch ceiling (which is covered in sturdy pure-white vinyl), the porch support columns (also in sturdy pure-white vinyl) and railings (ditto on the vinyl.) She washed down the concrete porch itself. Up the ladder, down the ladder, nearly falling off the ladder, scrubby scrub scrub. The soap was hosed off, paying careful attention to the wind so as to not get water spots on the neighbor’s clean cars. The porch glistened; Autrice was soaking wet from the hose.

    Better Half came home just as she was scouring down the porch furniture. One does not work rapidly when Better Half is around. He Procrastinates, as is commanded by law in the Big Book of Manliness. All men must find excuses to slow down work speed, according to this top-secret publication.

    Better Half created excuses to visit the Young Neighbors: to see the new puppy, to give advice on how to clip hedges, to share his vast (cough-cough) knowledge of planting for Ohio, to talk about Military Things, to schmooze. Autrice briefly contemplated whacking him with the ladder. This would have been too much effort, so she joined him next door instead. It is easier to drop hints than it is to explain to the Young Neighbors and the Police your reasons for savage spouse abuse in public.

    Once Autrice was able to make Better Half understand that she was fading, he set himself in motion. The furniture was placed back on the porch, the cushions brought up from the basement, and the wind chime box brought out. Porch done.

    It sounds as if Autrice is a Typical Nagging Wife. In all actuality, she is TG and enjoys her masculine nature. She would not think twice about asking Better Half to help were she in good health.

    Today is the Aftermath of all the physcial activity. Autrice can not hold a grudge against Better Half as he excels at taking care of her when she is in pain. He made her a lovely breakfast, brought her some pain medication for her bad back, and pampered her. He said that he would clean the downstairs today. Autrice wonders if he has consulted the Big Book of Manliness yet.
    ~ another third person musing
    posted by TMTW @ 12:14 PM  
    About Me

    Name: TMTW
    Home: Steubenville, Ohio, United States
    About Me: I'm not to be confused with a frabjous fennec. Au-treese vs Au-tree-chey. Treese are introverted, growly things that avoid sunlight and sporting events. Cheys are obnoxious, burbling harbingers of all that is unholy and skittle-flavored. A decade of confusion has required a larger degree of separation, ergo I answer to Toni, or Gruff, or Auntie Whispers while she, in her magnanimous way, hoarded all that is auty. Somebody needs to invent reliable teleportation just so I can deliver toxic waffles to her freezer.
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