1366 Renewal (short)

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Rugs and Windows

So it was decided. We will have plastic windows in the back bedroom. Who would ever have thought, but there they were as big and plastic and white as life. Edgar says they will last 25 years. Today is plastic window and plastic carpet day. Yes a plastic fantastic day. The carpet is misty green and guaranteed to be friendly to 81-year-old women with walkers if they regularly change their tennis balls. So Scott, Brent and I tug and pull the 15-foot long carpet from the top of the Toyota Truck where it was perched the night before just waiting for an invitation to be useful. We roll it out into the street, measure twice and Brent cuts with abandon. Then we heft said carpet into the back bedroom, now clean, painted and freshly appointed with plastic windows. Just that morning Edgar has power drilled each into place with self-tapping sheet metal screws. We were impressed because to drill a hole with a screw into 1/8-inch steal is not easy, but when challenged, Edgar gave us all a shrug and a smile and went to. Soon windows were just popping into place, all siliconed and 8 screwed into their appointed positions. They look good, even Karen has to agree, but that isn’t the task now. The room needs carpet.

We coax Brent away from Holly, the dog, painting, smiling and charming everything in sight. He has work to do. We unfold the rug, pull and shift it into a plumb position and then shove the ends under the wood strips that line the room and staple the edges firmly down. At times Brent does a little dance that serves to dissolve the wrinkles and make the rug look like the infield at Dodger Stadium. He knows what he is doing I think to myself. The other thought I have is this: the next generation is taking over. They are a lot cuter, a la Holly, a lot more dedicated, a la Scott’s work on the Gardiner pictures and banging out the old windows, and a lot more skilled a la Brent’s work today. Yes that’s it, the next generation is amazing and they want to take over. I was in this general frame of mind, filled with positive energy and awe until I remembered the dog.

It appears that Holly has given birth to a 35-pound dog. She carries him everywhere just in case there is dirt or anything he might trip on, which would be unusual because the dog doesn’t need to walk, he has Holly. She explains to me, with a straight face, that the dog was bred with a small lung capacity and can only walk three blocks, which is when Holly would come to the rescue, I’m thinking. This dog gets better care than most affluent children, oh well, when you are as adorable as Holly you are allowed a few eccentricities.

Anyway the rug and windows are in. Charisse took care of whitening the woodwork. All in all it has been a good day. The dog didn’t have to walk, mother will be surprised about how nice the rooms turn out and slowly but surely the grandchildren are taking over. The new world order is firmly in place. When I left the supervisor was flat on his back, on misty green, enjoying a nice breeze through the new plastic windows.