I would like to share with you my Sunday, lest you think that all of my days are full of fun adventure like this:

This morning, Daphne and I got up and went to church. After we’d worshiped and chatted with friends, we headed over to a bookstore where I had a mystery shop (which sounds a lot more glamorous than it is). We read books for over an hour, then came home to relax.

While she played Minecraft, her favorite pastime, I got to work making Whoopie Pies. (As of right now, the cookies are baked; I just have to make the filling, then I’ll take and post pictures for you.) Because our oven is so terribly small, I am able to bake exactly six cookies at a time. This means that it took nearly nearly three hours from start of project to all cookies out and dishes washed.

It is a gorgeous day, and I was able to open the doors and windows to let the fresh air in. We are listening to “The Help” audiobook, and during the eight minutes it took each batch of half a dozen cookies to bake, I did a chore.

First, I cleaned the cat box. I tried a different litter last time because they were out of the pine pellets I usually get. It was pine flakes, and they were an ugly mess. It only solidified my belief that pine pellets are the greatest thing in the history of cat ownership.

I needed to find something on which to put my cookies as they came out of the oven, so I got up under the couch to empty out a 12-pack for the cardboard. It was at this point that I realized something. At first, I wrongly thought that the cats had been taking dumps under the couch, like the cat we “lost” in a far-away neighborhood did at his leisure. Then I realized that it was actually their “sick place.” Thankfully, the junk had dried out, so I got that up, then doused the area with carpet cleaner and scrubbed it up. Finally, I dried the area and sprayed it with Febreze.

I continued on with the cookies, and put Daphne to work. She put duct tape down in all of the floor edges to pick up errant cat hair and detritus. I also needed to replace the water hose outside.

Here’s an embarrassing truth: I had a vague idea that there would be some kind of maintenance issues with the RV; mostly, I just rejoiced in the lesser-than-an-acre-and-a-half-and-aging-house maintenance. So, even though I’d seen my water hose (the garden hose my mom had bought at Dollar General at the last minute, because I was moving in and hadn’t thought to buy it) bulging from the pressure of having water turned on ALL of the time, I left it. Even after the hoses froze (twice), I left it. Finally, this week, I noticed that the green coating was breaking away from the white inner hose, like a snake shedding its skin.

Last night, I bought a heavy-duty, eight-ply hose to replace the old one. I went out, expecting it to be a lot easier and instead found that the old hose had rusted to the fitting. I turned the water off at the spigot and unattached the old hose from that end, then used a wrench to try go unscrew the hose at the wall. It kept turning around and around, twisting the hose, but not making any progress. It was then that I realized I needed more than just my single wrench.

I went next door and knocked at my neighbor’s. I heard him moving around, but he didn’t answer. Then I remembered our old friends from across the street, and went down the road a bit to see them. The wife gave me a rusty Vise Grip and pipe wrench and sent me on my way.

Here’s something you need to know about me: I am a lazy dresser. I do not like to change clothes. If I have a dressy event at any point in the day, I will usually be dressed up all day regardless. This morning was church. So I cooked, cleaned the cat box, and was doing my outdoor plumbing in my mules with wind blowing up my skirt (fortunately, I was wearing tights).

Armed with two extra implements, I tried to loosen the hose again. It was then that I realized that thing was not budging. As I was turning it, I was turning whatever was behind the wall, which means that the wall plate needed to come off.

I came in to get the screwdriver set and took the plate off, then tried to remove the fitting from the interior pipe. Unfortunately, I had twisted the hose so much that it just wouldn’t turn anymore. I called to Daphne for a knife and she handed me a steak knife. I went back over and hacked through the hose, mentally berating myself for having sold so much of what I owned when I moved out of a house. A hacksaw would have been a smart keep.

After that, I was able to successfully remove the interior fitting and brought the whole apparatus inside to work on it where I could better hear “The Help.”

As an aside, there is, of course, so much more to the book than the movie. There is an element that I hadn’t expected, an element that so closely parallels something in my life that it’s been a little painful to hear.

Eventually, I realized that one of the things I’d been trying to turn wasn’t actually supposed to come off and that the hose had rusted INSIDE of it. When I hit on that, I was able finally to pry the whole thing apart. Gleefully — okay, that’s an overstatement… With relief, I went outside to reattach the faceplate and screw in the new hose. As I made a first attempt to put the new hose on, I realized that I hadn’t put the fitting back into the interior pipe, so I had to pull the faceplate back off and start over.

A very few minutes later, I had everything up and running. I came inside for a shower, which smelled wonderfully like the rubber of a new garden hose.

Then, I finished these. They are delicious.

By the way, at one point, making the filling, I turned the mixer on while it was open. Why did I do this? No idea. But there was shortening everywhere, including somehow up my buttoned sleeve on my arm.

I’d write more, but I just had to turn the water off to go take care of a problem involving The Poop Stick. Living the dream, baby! Oh! The cat is drinking out of the murky toilet. Yeesh.

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