Best Of

Yesterday Bob, our landscaper, his helper & I tackled most of the kitchen and about half the clothes. I've been ruthless, donating stuff only a size too large (so that I won't be tempted to slack off on my eating habits with the knowledge there would be size 12/L waiting in the wings to handle the extra weight). I haven't worn any of it for 15 months now, so it no longer "sparks joy" and I don't need it around. True to form, the clothes were over-protected (who dry cleans a freebie Zenni eyeglass-cloth anyway, much less safety-pins it to its own hanger and puts a bag over it)? And just like the boxes, stuff is packed together willy-nilly: my stuff mixed in with Bob's (my blouses & his pants together, his ties & my scarves, etc.), sometimes a single tie or scarf per hanger, etc. Bob was surprisingly ruthless about his own ties—he used to have a dresser drawer crammed full of them, collected over the 47 years we've been in Chicago, but since hospitals have discouraged (some, like in the UK, outright banning) neckties on doctors he is sentimental about very few. Also, due to his increased girth, most of them are likely too short anyway—we were plowing through everything and he didn't want to delay our progress by stopping to try on each one. He was a little miffed that I wanted to try on shoes before deciding, but I only did the left foot to make sure it fit over my bunion, didn't squeeze my painful third-toe bone-spur callus, and wasn't too loose in the heel after my weight loss. Broke my heart to have to give away my Stuart Weitzmans; but unlike Louboutin-addicted celebs I'm not willing to endure pain for fashion. The Brown Elephant is getting at least 6 bags of freshly-dry-cleaned donations of clothes in like-new condition…and this week there'll likely be more on the way.

But we've made barely a dent in the mountains of boxes, and have yet to find the most important stuff: shelves for our bedroom TV console cabinet, most of the components & remotes for 3 rooms' systems, the Breville oven, most of our dinner plates (everyday Corelle and the special occasion Royal Worcester & Villeroy & Boch) and good silverplate (Kirk Steiff); and Happy's, Tabigail's & Pickles' ashes—and the ginger jars containing the latter two. Without the piano (which we let go because its pin block is shot and half the keys are missing their ivories), we will no longer have the surface on which to keep them. We might, once we've cleared out all the boxes from the living room, buy a used but still playable & presentable upright. Our old piano cost me only a cheap electric bass (and the fees for two movers), so a new one will likely pose a four-figure sticker shock; but the inexpensive portable keyboard I've been using on a folding stand in the office is obviously not furniture.

This week will consist mostly of finishing up the clothing, sequestering donatables, and finding miscellany (especially figuring out where in the kitchen to put stuff—as though we have more & nicer counter space the cabinets (despite appearing larger) are lacking in storage capability compared to the old ones. We may have to fork over $$$ to put drawers in two of the base cabinets, as well as raise a few of the lowest shelves to accommodate stacking mugs. Speaking of which, just like souvenir T-shirts I will have to exercise the discipline to part with at least half my souvenir mugs, both ceramic & thermal. There's a refugee-donation pantry in a local church (serving immigrants who found apartments but lack basic equipment); if they can pick the stuff up they're welcome to it. (Also tons of mismatched everyday stainless & "bistro" flatware). Our landscaper/handyman is enjoying a well-earned weeklong vacation in London & Ibiza; his helper has today & tomorrow off, and my BFF will come over tomorrow (while I wait for the grill repair guy to install the new grates & miscellaneous parts) to help me go through the lightweight stuff that won't challenge either of our hair-trigger lower backs, such as continuing to winnow out clothing and dispose of the extra drycleaning bags & hangers. The helper will be able to come over daily starting Tuesday.

Tonight Gordy & I will go see The Who while Bob immerses himself in football. Hope the heating pad, Aleve & half a muscle-relaxer tab will do the trick to loosen my back enough to get through the trek from parking through the stadium.

Harley, thanks for the heads-up. Anything we can do home-improvement-wise without hiring yet another pro is a definite plus.

Chris, may your surgery go well and give you the relief you seek.

Cindy, second the advice to be good to your & your partner's backs getting that sofa out to the curb. Any strong young people in your 'hood looking to earn a little extra $?

Betrayal, enjoy the cruise of your dreams. Your visit to Pike Place Mkt. brought back so many memories—especially the salmon-tossing guy (in return for a credit card stuck in a slit in a tennis ball); Emmett Watson's Oyster Bar; Market Coffee, Tea, & Spice (which sells the O.G. orange-spice tea); the Dilettante and the original Sur La Table across the street & up the block. The last couple of times I went back for my law school alumni board meeting, I was under orders from my office to come back with a salmon (on dry ice) or don't come back. (Flight attendants were more accommodating then—they always found room in the galley freezer). As for your backache, two little words: "shipboard spa." We always wanted to take that cruise when we lived in Seattle, but could never afford either the cost or the time off from study and then my early legal practice.

Spent a wonderful morning with my friends who are visiting from Charleston for a wedding (the brides are his former girlfriend and her current girlfriend—the wedding is Taylor Swift-themed; wondering whether the officiant was dressed in Kelce's jersey). The visit is bittersweet: ten years ago he was diagnosed with Parkinson's, and the Shirley Ryan Ability Lab up here did a marvelous job giving him the PT necessary to keep active (even senior Zumba classes) and on the radio (news reporter for WBBM-AM) till they sold their Wilmette house (where he grew up) and moved down south. I hadn't seen him since Gordy's wedding down in NOLA in 2022; he was moving slowly but without tremors and still walking half a mile to dinner (even doing the second-line parade that was the recessional). I don't know if it's the passage of time, the nature of the disease, or a combination thereof; he now has tremors that flare up dramatically and he has to use a walker. When he first called to say he & his wife were coming up for a visit, he let it slip that this might be the last time he'd be able to travel. (Bob & I are thinking that later this fall we might drive south to see him again, my cousin in Coral Springs who just turned 96, and then swing up to Birmingham to visit Carrie on our way back home),

The home saga continues. Had a long talk with our State Farm adjuster yesterday and my worst fears were confirmed: our "public adjuster" and contractor are either one & the same or in cahoots (both unethical and perhaps even illegal in IL); so when I released the progress payment & demo lien refund to him (thinking that as the public adjuster he'd be our intermediary and not disburse till the work was completed satisfactorily), they no longer had any incentive to address my concerns and correct their screwups. It's worse than that: they charged SF for materials & labor to bring our deck up to city code (per the specs) but all they did was re-paint it: when I pointed that out, he retorted that since they gave me a renovated bathroom with shower down in the basement it should be a wash. (I checked the specs…they charged SF for that bathroom…unventilated, of course). I pointed out to the SF adjuster that had we moved in by 6/30 as both SF and the public adjuster insisted we do (all the certificate of occupancy states is that utilities are up & running per safety code—w/o regard to amenities such as furniture or possessions), once the 1100 boxes, furniture and fridges began being delivered in early August we'd have had to turn around and move back to a hotel—as there's no room to even put sleeping bags on the floor, much less cook and provide a safe environment for the kitties—at vastly more cost than our rent here. (20 days in the two hotels we occupied until we could move up here ran >$20K). So our SF adjuster is contacting his supervisor to see if we can get at least partial reimbursement for the rent we had to pay out of pocket (at a rack rate $2K/mo more than SF was charged under its "insurance discount"), or at least refund of the $250/mo. "admin fee" that Homelink took as its profit. I'm not gonna quibble over the deck (as well as the repaint of part of the rear exterior for which we were charged but I now learned SF paid them too). If I can get SF (or Homelink or FHS, the landlord's temp rental agency) to cough up something, and hold the public adjuster/contractor's feet to the fire (pun intended) about cleaning up all the paint & drywall splatter, repainting the kitchen & baths with the right kind of paint and bringing the ventilation in the two main baths up to code, I'll back off. Eventually we'll have the deck rebuilt properly at our own expense, and convert the 1st fl. tub to a walk-in shower (since we'd have to replace the supply stack anyway, best to do it as part of a renovation rather than just bust through the tile or the dining room wall but leave the old grungy tub in place).