Ghosts of Father's Day at Our Little House
My dad, Frank Fivecoat, with my brother, Steve
Sunday is Father’s Day, a day to celebrate our dads and thank them for being a part of our lives.
For the better part of my life, 30 years on July 21, Father’s Day has always been a constant reminder that my dad was no longer able to be a part of mine.
Saving Daylight at Our Little House
It was Dale’s stepmom who clued me in last week that this coming Sunday, March 13, is the beginning of Daylight Savings Time.
“What? So early!?”
I could have sworn that it didn’t begin until April. I would have been right until 2007, when DST was extended from March to November.
I’m all for springing into spring and leaving the winter behind us, but there are some disadvantages to springing forward:
Hot Over the Air Unit
The heat/air unit in The Belle Writer's Studio
Drip…Drip…Drip….
This is the unsettling noise I heard in my office the other day. I got up and checked the bathroom as the toilet has been known to run lately if I don’t jiggle the handle.
I couldn’t find the source of the water there.
I turned down the radio and finally traced the sound to the 1-room wall mounted heating and cooling unit we installed when we built The Belle Writer’s Studio.
About 20 months after the unit was installed and my 320-square foot office was finished, I’m not a fan of the unit.
Airing our Dirty Laundry
Before I start on today's post, I wanted to let you know that the eggs in the nest on the front covered porch hatched yesterday! I can see 4, maybe 5 teeny tiny naked birds no bigger than a nickel!
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As with most everything, our Little House provides benefits for some things being handy, other things, not so handy.
Take the laundry, which is one of my least favorite things to do. About the only thing I enjoy about it is having it folded and put away until next time.
At our house in the city, we literally had enough clothes in our closets that allowed me to sometimes let the laundry go for up to 3 weeks at a time. Of course, Dale had uniforms where he worked and they did that dirty, oily laundry, so it was mainly my clothes and his weekend wear.
Here at our Little House, we don’t have much closet or dresser space and I can barely scoot past the dirty chore for more than a week. As well, there isn’t room to put many dirty clothes – unlike our house in the city – where the clothesbasket was in a spare bedroom where I could just shut the door.
