Streak Of Good Luck

Everyday Epiphany

Sometimes “good enough” is perfect.

The Almost Perfect Plan

“Rethink washing the windows,” suggested Mike my SI (Significant Other). “Rain is predicted.”

“That’s EXACTLY why we’re up early,” I said. “It’s all in the timing.”

I explained my logic. 

“The forecast calls for intermittent showers. I’ll wash the inside of the windows when it’s raining. Then when it pauses, I’ll finish the outside of the windows.”

“That explains why YOU’RE up.” Mike poured a second cup of coffee. “Why am I awake?”

“Your part in Project Windows is to disassemble and reassemble the storm windows when the showers pause. That’s the timing part of it.”

“Do I look like a Doppler Radar?” 

Mike grumbled while he teased stuck panes from their frames and screens from their grooves. 

After methodically Windex spritzing the interior panes and thoroughly drying them, I dashed outside between showers to employ Part B of Project Windows and clean the exterior. While the rain paused, the dripping gutters didn’t. The eaves offered minimal shelter. To reach the targeted windows, I lugged an aluminum ladder through thick hydrangeas that whacked me with water-logged blossoms. I balanced on a teetering ladder that sunk into soggy mulch and finished the job just as a cloud burst and drenched me. 

Granted, the execution of Project Windows encountered a few snags, but we accomplished an ornery task on a rainy day. Tomorrow we’d enjoy the sunny weather and the sparkling windows

. . . or so I thought. 

Losing Streak

Strong black coffee steamed from my favorite mug. Relishing the aroma before my first morning sip, I contemplated the day’s options that the sunny summer day presented. Swimming? Fishing? Hiking? Birdwatching? Boating? Gardening? 

Congratulating myself on completing the housework yesterday allowing for a guiltfree activity today, I glanced out the front window.

Then I saw them. A trio of malcontents disrupting my relaxed calm. 

An angular smear slanted across the first front pane. An oval blotch swirled in the corner of the next while a chevron smudge imitated a Dow Jones graph on the third. My ally, the sun, highlighted my shortcomings of a job I had thought well done.

Not Perfectly Clear

A sigh of dread escaped as I imagined another day of rewashing windows with a more critical eye. High standards weighed upon me and thoughts of swimming and boating and fishing evaporated. Water sports and walking and planting the on-sale petunias would wait as I completed the task I had believed finished. 

I set my morning coffee on the end table and inspected the latches on the offending frames. This would be a solo job unlike yesterday. (Mike’s window washing standard, not as high as mine, put this one on me.)

Lucky Streak

If I were lucky, the smears had made their homes on the interior panes. A quick spritz and swipe would set my world right. If I were unlucky their location would be on the exterior which entailed dismantling the storm windows.

While inspecting the glass like a jeweler with her loupe, my peripheral vision caught a motion. A house wren tugged at a dried clematis vine freeing a twiggy portion. Grasped in his beak, the vine curled up on either side. Flying to the wren house hung from the front porch eave, he perched on the roof surveying the threat I presented. I lowered the shade and positioned myself surreptitiously on the couch. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. He ducked inside his tiny home and exited in search of additional nesting material. 

Perfectly Fine

“A wren’s building a nest in the house you hung yesterday.”

I related this morning newsflash to a sleepy eyed Mike. As if on cue, the wren popped out of the round opening lending credence to my observation. 

Mike leaned down for a better view of the activity. “By the way, the windows look great,” he said. “They actually sparkle.”

Engrossed in the flurry of avian activity, I hadn’t notice that the lowered shade hid the smears. 

So, they weren’t perfect, but they were good enough.

“I’m thinking about hiking after breakfast and then maybe fishing later today,” I suggested. “Are you in?”

I had already birdwatched. 

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