J. F. Shumate

A Lovely Fall Saturday

It was a lovely early November Saturday. Although not an FSU grad, I couldn’t wait to watch the Florida State – Miami game, a huge annual rivalry. I thought “It would be a nice thing to do something for my wife before the game. Then I can watch it uninterrupted. Maybe I can clean up a couple of pots she wants to paint before turning on the game?”

My wife wanted to paint a couple of large pots for planting dracaenas or some such thing. These were very large pots, made of some sort of meshed material that wasn’t plastic nor clay; stained from dirt and after being outside for many years, they were a mess.

“What a nice guy I am,” I thought. “She will really appreciate this. I can knock these out and get back inside in a half hour to watch the game. In peace.”

After using a bucket of soap and water with a towel and cleaning sponge, plus a large scrub brush, they still looked a little shop worn.

My First Mistake

My eyes found the electric pressure washer. “Yes, yes that’s the ticket,” my brain spoke to me. After sorting through the hose, nozzle tips and pressure gun, hooking up the garden hose (heavy duty so it doesn’t compress) I was ready to clean.

It did help a lot. The remnants of mold were gone in a flash.

“Ah, ha, that was fun!” In fact, so much fun, I decided I had enough time for a couple of clay pots that needed cleaning as my wife wanted to paint them as well. When painted with a Cinnamon spray, found at Home Depot (but not Lowe’s according to a neighbor), the clay surface is less porous retaining moisture better. Plus, they have a luster which is very important to her.

Grabbing two smaller pots, I quickly dashed them off. That was when my lovely wife appeared, and congratulating me on my “wonderful work,” wondered “would you care to do a couple more?”

“Of course, my dear, anything for you!” The couple more turned into a half dozen more.

Thinking I was finished, I started for the garage hoping to catch the second half when she caught my attention. “Gee these two pots next to the porch look pretty bad. I don’t suppose that pressure thing can reach these?”

“Of course, my dear, anything for you!”

Blasting away at these two was a breeze, once I had the pressure washer moved, the hose untangled, and the right tip attached. “It’s a good thing I recorded the game,” I thought.

My Second Mistake

“I might as well hit these bricks.” The bricks (they are pavers) bordered the walkway leading to the front door. Using the high intensity nozzle, I attacked the bricks moving as quickly as possible. However, that meant the sprayer hitting part of the walkway and leaving obvious clean areas.

Too obvious.

“Oh my. That walkway is almost as bad as the pots were. You did such a wonderful job on those porch pots, just spectacular, something I just can’t do myself. I don’t know. After making those sparkle and the bricks shine, do you want to leave the moldy looking walkway?”

“Of course not, my dear, anything for you!”

For the next 90 minutes, I slowly cleaned the accumulated scum off the walkway, all the while realizing I wasn’t going to see the game live. “I sure am glad I recorded it. At least I can fast forward through the commercials and be ready to eat dinner on time.”

Finally finishing, I quickly cleaned up the equipment, wrapped up the hose and went inside.

My Third Mistake

(Inspiration from Lyle Lovett and his song “Her First Mistake” and my wife who doesn’t even have to ask me for help.)