Showing posts with label house chores. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house chores. Show all posts

October 27, 2013

Time to Change the Air Conditioner

Every year here in New Jersey when we change our clocks to save time, there's another chore around our house. About the last week of April when we spring ahead, it's time to break out the window air conditioners from their closet hibernation In October, it's time to rip off the sealing tape and bring in the units without dropping them on an innocent foot or to the pavement below.

The two bedroom air conditioners need only cross from the closet to the window. It's the monster dining room air conditioner that has been stored in the basement that elicits the most grunts and groans as it travels up a flight of stairs, through the kitchen to rest and catch its breath in front of the window.

It wasn't always like this. When I grew up in the second floor cold water flat upstairs from grandma, we didn't even have screens outside our windows. We had these sliding screens that adjusted to the width of the window and let in a hot summer breeze through about ten inches of metal panels.

October 2, 2013

Vacuuming My Way into Clarity

By Anthony Buccino

It’s the same story every week: “Ant, the house is all dusted. You can vacuum when you’re ready.”
“Aw, I got to vacuum the whole house,” I mutter under my breath.
When I’m ready, I grab the vacuum from the upstairs closet, plug it in and click it on. While the noise drowns out the rest of the world, I focus on specks of dust and lint challenging me to a duel they will lose.
Before I know it, my head is cleared of everyday life. My mind is fogged by memories of Mom and her Electrolux that slid on metal blades across our old rug in the four-room cold water flat.
There was that time when the neighborhood version of “Benny Miller-from-Cucamonga” tried to sell Mom a new vacuum. “Would you let your eight-year-old son pick up a handful of dirt outside and eat it?”
“Of course NOT!”
“But, Mrs. Buccino,” he said, “the rug inside your house is much worse than the dirt outside.”
Hey, I was eight. I wouldn’t eat dirt in the yard. Anymore. What was this guy talking about? ...

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