A Quiet St. Paddy’s Day

Yesterday, I was tasked with cleaning the basement. Herculean at best. Me and Blue have managed to track in a lot of mud and dust this winter.

However, Blue can just hide on the top floor.

There was no putting it off for this mick. Especially now that Lisa is retired, white glove at the ready. No rest for the wicked.

Heavy furniture is shifted back and forth, while the entire basement and every stair is swept, vacuumed and swiffered. Then every surface except the altar and furniture in my office – must respect my superstitions – is wiped.

The rugs are taken outside and beaten. Then put back down and vacuumed. The smaller ones are washed.

Then the bathroom is completely wiped and cleaned. I can make a toilet bowl sparkle.

It’s a four hour event. I hate every moment of it. My hands and back always crave the Aleve afterwards.

But I streamed some Irish music on my basement Alexa while I labored.

And while I labored, Claire and Honey hung out by the Irish-American flag to show their support for the holiday, while the gnomes looked on.

I’m sure Geoffrey, the smaller British gnome – from Primrose Hill in London – was having a laugh at my misfortune on SPD. Smokey stayed in her box, only coming out to eat.

Mittens took off after breakfast on his rounds. But it was an Irish grey day, so I don’t blame the animals.

Lisa and I then watched The Quiet Man (an annual tradition from back when the kids were tiny) – we had watched The Departed last night – then went out for our now St. Paddy’s Day tradition of buying one baked potato each – from Wendy’s in Longmont, to supplement our prepared meal, and honor our Celtic Ancestors. Shrinkflation is a thing. Smallest spuds I’ve ever seen.

Of course we exchanged the obligatory Holiday greetings with all of our Celtic friends and family, and then everyone else, because everyone is Irish on SPD.

And the good news is that while my muscles are reminding me this morning that I am indeed 67 years old, at least I’m not hungover. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.

Which is good, because Mondays are bad enough without that added self-infliction.

And the mules want their breakfast no matter how I’m feeling.

So, you fine, five readers better shake out the cobwebs and get moving as well.

The work-week awaits.

But first some kitty cuddles and my rounds.

And maybe wash down one more Aleve with some coffee to take the edge off.

But no matter what other mischief we get up to, let us make today a great one.

Oh, and belated Happy Birthday to John Bricker – lucky enough to be born on SPD – who is an old friend and legal comrade from CG&R and is the basis for a brilliant scientist character in the upcoming WTLLM.