grounded

My muscles are achy from my ears to my tippy toes. I spent yesterday morning performing tasks at my mother's house. Generally I do yard work, watering...that sort of thing. Yesterday, however, I felt very much like I had been whisked back in time to a naughty teenage me who had been grounded, probably for sneaking out of my bedroom window. The chores she asked me to do  reminded me of the type of chore you give your ungrateful child so you can actually live up to the bitch they think you already are...to teach a lesson.

First, I did the chore which I most enjoy. I brought sustenance to the avian community! I filled my mother's two seed bird feeders with a fresh mix of sunflower seeds and bird food. I washed out and refilled the bird bath, in her orchard. I watered all of the newly growing grasses and plants in certain patches of the lower yard and climbed back up the hill to get directions on my next activity.This is the moment it got weird.

Next, I washed the front door screen, inside and out. The screen is made of wood and mesh. Using a wash cloth and water, I made sure the door was squeaky clean. There have been a rash of caterpillars in my mom's neighborhood which in turn means a million cocoons attached everywhere, including the screen door.

The butterflies are long gone but their crepe paper birth sacks are littering nooks and crannies. Unbeknownst to me, butterfly birthing is nasty business. Underneath every torn open butterfly casing, were stains of deep red...blood, afterbirth...I know not, but it was gross!

Then, I used a broom to wipe away all of the cobwebs from the exterior of the eaves, along the whole house. After that, I took the same broom and swept under the ledge the runs along the front of the house. Careful not to disturb the bird's nest that happens to be there precariously perched in one of the corners.

Same broom, back deck. I have never noticed how many cobwebs are around the house!

OK...at this point I was sure I had done something to piss her off. I said, like a true smart ass..."Is there any other menial task I can handle for you today, or is my punishment complete?"  Smugly, my mother, who up to this point I thought always had a good sense of humor...there was the whole eating mushrooms not doing mushrooms bit...said to me, with a total straight face...

" As a matter of fact, there is...you can take the basket/tray things from the dishwasher, out back. There is a bucket of soapy water and two scrub brushes, under the deck. Scrub the gunk off of the baskets and then rinse them and leave them out back to dry."

Really? When I looked, I noticed she had at least put a rubbery kneeling pad out there. So she has still got a heart, I thought to myself. When I had finished scrubbing what looked to be like years' worth of gunk from the rubber coated dishwasher baskets, I snuck into my mom's record box just to check something. As I suspected, my name is not Cinderella...it says so on my birth certificate! I wrung out my soaked knees and left for home to get ready for a party...Maybe I am....noooooooooooo.