17th February 2019
More snow fell today, I had to drive up to the in-laws to cut up my timber.
Kelli has found a dresser in Zeeland and had arranged a collection time. From the pictures I asked if it was wood, and was assured it was.
So out in the whiteness we went. Thanks to GPS we found the place. Kelli then reversed into their drive making sure she avoided hitting the parked vehicles, in so doing she drove on to the snow bank. Not a problem for her getting out, but for me as soon as I climbed out the truck I sank into the snow up to my knees.
The dresser was as I expected, it was not wood, not veneer, but melamine. Kelli had the thirty bucks in her pocket, but I inspected the piece and said out loud that it was not what I thought it was, and basically wanted to walk away. The lady selling it must have sensed that there was no sale coming from us, she then said we could have it for free. They didn’t need to tell us twice, in the blink of an eye it was in the back of the truck and we were away down the road. I still didn’t have much interest in the piece, it was large and heavy and had some damage, but Kelli was confident she could turn it into something wonderful, so it’s over to her.
This meant we could spend the money on some new paint ready for the transformation.
As February was tax time, Kelli needed help with hers. Luckily she has a friend who is an accountant, so we stopped there on the way back. Kelli, who is alway unsure of her footing, and frightened of slipping, did just that on the driveway. Splat! right on her arse. I blame her extraordinarily small feet, as she can fall anywhere, I am surprised that she was able to walk down the isle at our wedding.
So there she was wallowing in the drift, whilst Kevin, the accountant, was desperately trying to open the front door, and control his large black dog at the same time. I helped Kelli get to her feet, brushing the snow off her back, as she clutched her now slightly damp paperwork. We entered the house, the large black dog straining at the leash barking loudly about six inches from my face. “ Oh he doesn’t bite” Kevin said, his knuckles white with the strain. All I was thinking was that my head would fit in that dog’s mouth. In a relatively short time Kevin had most of the information he required to finish Kelli’s tax returns, so as the black dog shot out of the door in front of us we made escape to the truck.
After the trauma of a damp bottom, and avoiding becoming a dog’s breakfast, We decided to have dinner at the Curragh Irish pub, in downtown Holland.
Another Lifetime to go 