Towels and Growls

Yesterday’s grand adventure? Cleaning and organizing our deep-and-dark, black-hole-of-a-bathroom closet crammed full and piled high with STUFF.  Since this house was a lake cottage for ten years before becoming a permanent home, we’d accumulated plenty of odds-and-ends.

First I dug through everything in discovery-mode, sorting as I went, organizing all the NyQuil and Sudafed and Ricola cough drops in one box, the ace bandages and icy hot salve and knee braces in another.  Countless bottles of mostly-outdated sun lotion from SPF 4 to 8 to 15 to 30 to 45 gathered together in rows according to their numbers, and the grandkid bathtub toys and Mr. Bubble happily piled into into a couple of little pails.  Shoe polish found their place in a smaller homey-looking box, and extra sunglasses (a necessity at the lake) nestled in a cute box with a cut out front for easy access.  There.  Much better.

Then as I folded bath towels into three piles – keepers, sort-of ratty but usable ones, and threadbare rags, I sensed a slight tremor.  Yes, it was unmistakable.  My equilibrium faltered.  Was I dizzy?  Had there been a slight earthquake? 

I stopped folding momentarily, stared at my aging visage in the mirror, and wondered if I was losing my mind.  Did my balance falter while folding towels, of all things? What I really THAT OLD?  No matter.  I probably imagined it.

There.  I gently patted the tall piles of towels standing like multicolored Torre di Pisas (leaning towers of Pizza) ready to topple, and gazed at them proudly.  Surely they wouldn’t fall…no earthquake today!  I’d wanted to sort through them for months, so felt a sense of accomplishment.  Only the keepers would return the closet, and the others would find use according to their new caste assignments.  Some, the untouchables, would end up in my son’s mechanic shop.  Poor dears.

Then, no mistake, I heard a low rumble - sort of a grumble or growl.  Not trusting my hearing (I often mix up or distort auditory signals), I waited.  There it was again!  Thunder?  I checked outside.  Sunshine and blue sky greeted me. 

Then another deeper groan-and-moan, and sort of a hum. 

I decided to investigate, and walked into the living room to discover this scene outside the window:

The workmen installing our new sewer line last December had been forced to stop due to wintry weather, but yesterday were finally able to return and finish the job!  They were busily digging and clawing at the earth just a few feet from the house.

No earthquakes.  No thunderstorms.  JUST A BACKHOE! 

This morning the keeper-towels are neatly stacked in the closet, while the Torre di Pisa-towels still await their various fates: