Washing Up

I have just washed up the Old Way, with a basin in the sink, towels on the draining board, scraping, soaking, washing, rinsing, and my fuzzy, added-fibre glasses and plates sparkle as they have not since the dishwasher went temperamental. Yet another man is coming out to fix it, and if he can't it will be replaced under the Lemon Law, how delightful.

The past two days Carolyn and I have been working hard in Sonoma for her client there, good fun in its way, but I was amazed how lazy other people can be - or inefficient. Two men hung one cupboard in the day, and put up six hooks, wow. I suppose I should feel virtuous by comparison but instead feel vaguely indignant.

Meanwhile the table has disappeared under a pile of wood scraps, and solid rough redwood planks lean against the wall; all were stored in that attic. The big planks I intend to use as a new floor for the uncovered sections, seems poetic. Little bits maybe will be chucked.

The big task is still boarding the living room ceiling, and that involves a lot of sawdust, but we are filming too next week. Start and clean up? Leave it?