I made a mistake this week. I didn’t realize it at first, but it didn’t take long before that fact sunk into my thick skull. My error was telling my dear wife that thanks to the unusually warm weather this March, rather than wait until April, I was going to give our front porch a good spring cleaning.

You see, in spring, summer and fall, we spend a lot of time out there in our rocking chairs. You’ll often find me seated there at dawn with a hot cup of coffee, enjoying the sunrise. And I love sitting there at dusk, with Lynda at my side sipping an ice tea (OK, occasionally something a little stronger) and making small talk, as we watch the bass jump in our little pond. And because our front porch does get used extensively, I’d stack up its cleanliness against anyone’s…most of the year. On the other hand, in the winter months, it tends to be neglected and it shows.  

Our problem is two-fold. The porch seems to suck-in fallen leaves like a magnet attracts a shiny new ten penny nail. Then there are the two black cats that have adopted us. In winter, I keep a couple of heat lamps set up on the porch, so I’m sure they have a warm place to nestle at night. They are generous in their gratitude, paying back my good deed with coughed-up hairballs. I keep telling them such generosity is unnecessary, but to no avail.

So by this time of the year, the porch does need a good spring cleaning…one that I am more than willing to perform. Of course, my idea of a “good spring cleaning” and Lynda’s are not necessarily the same.  Mine involves a broom, a hose, a scrub brush and a bucket of soapy water. To my wife, that’s just “tidying up.” Or as she might admit in an unguarded moment, “Man clean!” You see, she spells the word differently than I do. In her dictionary, “clean” is spelled, “I-m-m-a-c-u-l-a-t-e!”

So when I returned from the barn yesterday armed with a bucket and a hose, I discovered she had been on the phone checking-out how much a new pressure cleaner would cost. Our old one gave up the ghost recently. Personally, I think Lynda just exhausted it. You see, if she could find ANY REASON to fire it up, she would. I once told her I felt the pressure cleaner had become a virtual extension of her body, one with disturbing roots to her childhood, where—due to inadequate plumbing—she was never able to write her name in the snow. (Actually, as she is a Florida native, I should say, “in the sand.”)

At any rate, one unscheduled trip into town and $200 later, our front porch is now clean…and when I say clean, I mean LYNDA CLEAN!  What happened on that front porch might well be called, “The Live Oak Festival of Suds.” Of course, once we completed the front porch, she was convinced the rest of the house’s exterior looked a little shabby. You can guess what happened.

Admittedly, everything looks great now, but honestly I was a little upset—at least at first. As an admitted tightwad, I wasn’t thrilled with having a $200 unbudgeted expense this month. I am hopeful however, I can recoup that money. I plan to contact Shands to see if they would be interested in renting my front porch for elective surgery. They will need to add a couple of bright lights, but the view is great and they sure as heck won’t have to worry about staph infections.

Oops! Gotta run! I think I made another mistake. I mentioned to Lynda this morning our three barn dogs need their spring baths and I just spotted her headed that way…pulling her new pressure cleaner behind.  

Jim lives in Live Oak.