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With Honey on a family trip with her sisters down south for 10 days (11, as it turned out), I've been on my own. Here is the second half of my Bachin' It Diary.
DAY SIX: Food running low. Don't know how much longer I can hold out. . . Really just the opposite is true. I've gained five pounds. I eat the meals Honey left for me, then somebody invites me for dinner, and I eat again. It would be impolite to turn them down. I average five meals a day. Cats gaining weight, too. They beg constantly. I feed them. It's Sunday. Worshrag and Busy Bee came over to watch the Steelers this afternoon, and she brought a pizza she made. Deck project is going well, tearing off old boards and replacing with new. Honey knows I'm doing some major project to surprise her. I always do that when she goes away. She'll never guess it's the deck.
DAY SEVEN: Racquetball, lunch, nap. By the time I got going again on the deck, only a couple of hours of daylight left. Oh, well, all day to work tomorrow and weather great. I've solved the problem of dirty clothes piling up: I just wear the same clothes every day. Shark and grandson 747 came to see progress on the deck. Shark said Honey called, was trying to pry out the secret. When Honey talked to The 747, he wanted so badly to tell her. At 8, it's hard to keep secrets. Pulled pork sandwiches with barbeque sauce for both supper yesterday and lunch today. Found out what happens to cauliflower when you boil it for an hour.
DAY EIGHT: Work, work, work. Foundation repairs done, nailing down boards at a furious pace. Started using 10-penny galvanized nails that Seed had. Guy at the lumberyard told me the 8-penny nails I used on the first half of the deck will pop out when the wood dries. Honey phoned, said she and her sisters leaving Mississippi just ahead of Hurricane Zeta. Reminded her that she called me a wimp when I made us leave Myrtle Beach ahead of Hurricane Dorian in summer 2019. Honey and sisters now at niece's house in Jacksonville. Meals she left me are almost gone; time to thaw out reserves from the freezer.
DAY NINE: Racquetball again. After, stopped at coffeeshop downtown. Observed very colorful meeting on opposite street corner, some in zany costumes. Back home, work day evaporating fast, quick lunch of calzones from freezer stash. Skipped nap. Put on same work clothes again; pants so dirty they can stand up by themselves now. Finished nailing in new deck boards, began rebuilding bench and deck railings. Sons Seed and Worshrag came over to keep me company (disguised "wellness check") in the evening. Watched TV. They ate rest of my calzones and whatever else they could find in 'fridge.
DAY 10: Honey and her sisters are hunkering down in Jacksonville, waiting for Hurricane Zeta's rain to pass. Would not be good to drive 14 hours home in constant downpour. Here at home, forecast is rain all day. Do manage to haul away old deck boards, get a little work done in the a.m. Rain picked up, back inside, ran the dishwasher a second time - Yay me!. Thawed out pound of hamburger overnight; hamburgers for lunch, with, sigh, end of homegrown tomatoes. No nap. Ran errands, made phone calls, rainy day stuff. Talked on phone with Honey until my arm fell asleep. Both of us lonely; she's dying to come home. Cooked my famous hoopie poached deer chili recipe; big pot, enough to eat on for days. Honey coming home tomorrow.
DAY 11: Honey said leaving Jacksonville at 3 a.m.; should be home by supper. She refuses to eat my deer chili (because of my butchering methods,) but I saved enough ground beef for two hamburgers, so we will have supper. Weather cleared off, working frantically to get final odds and ends of deck project done. Honey called to update ETA, still trying to guess my secret project. "Why are you all out of breath?" she asks. "Because I'm breathing hard," is lame answer but best I can come up with. I get almost everything done on the deck minus some cleanup, before time to pick her up in Weirton. Coming in the door of our house she asks, "So what is the project?" I try to throw her off with, "I got you this great cardboard box for woodstove kindling, just like the box you were mad at me for throwing away last spring," then I take her to the back door and show her the renovated deck. "It's beautiful," says Honey, sincerely, and gives me a big hug. She is so tired and so glad to be home that she goes to her recliner and falls asleep without supper. Later she said she guessed it might be the deck, but she didn't say it so it doesn't count.
The End.