Back in January, I told the people I work with that I was going to need the end of Labor Day week off (I couldn’t just request days because Black Out Weeks (when you can’t ask for vacation) is always complete weeks even if the holiday/reason it’s a Black Out Week is Sunday or Monday). So everyone knew: the woman I work with on the regular, my sometimes-here manager, and the lady who is fourth in line getting hours (so she works a different department most of the time). I ended up working Sunday through Tuesday, leaving on Wednesday morning, getting back on Sunday night and being sick all Monday, then going back to work Tuesday.
Knowing for nine months that we were going up, didn’t mean I knew where we were going to stay. I wanted to know. In August, my husband finally found out. We were staying at his step-dad’s old house (they built a new one eight years ago on a less windy part of the property). My husband’s two youngest siblings live in town (the step-dad lives on an island) and we were told the other two siblings (my husband is the oldest) were coming too (hence not knowing if we could stay in the house).
So we arrived about five on Wednesday evening and got in line for the ferry. Crossing costs us almost $30 (leaving the island is free). Then we drove up the road and worked out which driveway to go in as my husband never lived in the house, just visited. The inside of the house was dusty and we were hungry and tired.
For cleaning supplies, we were provided with:
-1 small bottle of dish soap
-1 sponge
-1 broken vacuum
I'd also brought 1 hand towel
The kitchen had:
-Two pots, one with rivet holes instead of one handle, both of them the opposite of non-stick
-A few dusty mugs
-A couple bowls
-A stove/oven combo with no oven racks
-Cupboards full of old cans and medicine that had expired years ago
For food:
-Lots of giant potatoes
-Several onions
-A giant mason jar of olive oil, which step-dad wasn’t sure was still good
-And a garden of vegetables
-Potable water
-Apple cider
When step-dad gave us a tour of his new home he gave us:
-Paper plates
-Plastic forks
-A paring knife (the blade was shorter than my smallest finger)
-A spatula (pancake turner variety)
The island had a restaurant/store, so my husband walked down to it with one of the kids as I cut up potatoes and onions with the small knife I’m glad I didn’t take out of my lunch bag (we’d packed sandwiches in the bag to eat on the way up) on a paper plate (as we had no cutting board). I took comfort in an article I’d read recently that said Americans can’t tell the difference between rancid and extra virgin olive oil and when we do, we prefer the rancid, so it didn’t really matter. Even with all the oil, the potatoes stuck to the pan. It was more mush than fried potatoes. Two of my kids don’t like onions (texture rather than flavor), but wanted the onions mixed it because that was really the only seasoning we had. My husband came back with pre-cooked sausage links and eggs. I cooked them together and then mixed everything. Filling, but it could have used salt and pepper.
After dinner step-dad and his wife came by after their dinner guests left. We fed them cake we’d brought. She was disgusted by the dust and wouldn’t stay. He stayed long enough to open our gift to him (step-dad, my husband, and one of his brothers all have birthdays that week). He then put his gift (a wire tree perched on a rock that we’d spent the last week making) on the table ‘for us to enjoy’. It’s probably still there.
We each figure out where we were going to sleep. My daughter took the extra long couch (wooden with a foam mattress on it), my second kid took the downstairs bedroom, my youngest piled up foam cushions from the store room (that had been a bedroom) and slept between the table and the piano. My husband and I took the added on room upstairs. It had bed with a foam mattress covered by a sheet. I covered the whole thing with the thinner of the two blankets I’d brought for us then put our pillows on top of that. I’m so glad I did.
The upstairs also had a half bath. Half because it only had a shower and toilet. It did have a sink, but no faucet or drain. It also didn’t have a screen over the fan vent and sometime in the last eight years chickens had gotten inside. The wall with the window was covered in leavings and so was the magazine basket, but oddly enough not the magazine on top.
We went to bed kind of early for us, so cars were still going down the nearby road. I’ve got to state here that there wasn’t a single curtain in the house, nor was there curtain rods or holes where the curtain rods would have been. Also no door on the upstairs bathroom. Personally, I’m a curtain girl. Keep the light out and the warmth in. But finally I slept.
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