Every couple of years Peter and I have the same debate – should we wash the windows or hire somebody? I don’t like the work of the first option, and Peter doesn’t like the expense of the second. Besides, we don’t know anybody to call for service, as you can see below:

This spring we had the same debate but the stakes were a little higher. We are planning a large family reunion at our house, and some of the guests have never been here before. So, when an older teen came to the door to offer the services of his window-cleaning “company,” I was interested. I asked for a pamphlet or a business card and he hesitated, checking his pockets. “Uh, I ran out of them. Sorry.” I told him to bring one back and drop it in our mail box. And that was the last I saw of him.

Peter and I put off the task as long as we could, but finally we began to gather our equipment. It took some hunting to track down the spray nozzle for the hose and the brush with the extendable handle. These tools mean that Peter doesn’t have to use the extension ladder and I don’t have to sit on the bottom step, steadying the ladder while holding my cell phone ready to call 911.

Relieved of this duty, I began to set up for my job; cleaning the inside of the windows. Peter had borrowed my spray bottle of Windex, so I searched for another one in the cleaning supplies cupboard. I found it and a roll of paper towels, and began on the first window. Soon my window was covered with beige spray and tiny granules. On closer inspection, I discovered the reason. This was not Windex – it was plant fertilizer! I reached down for the paper towel roll, but I knocked it off the couch, where it unrolled through the living room, across the dining room, and into the sun room. Things were not going well.

After rolling up the paper towels and finding a bottle of real Windex, I carried on, climbing on and off chairs, spraying and wiping windows, and beginning to dream of my afternoon nap. I stopped for a rest and went to check on Peter. He was not doing much better. His hose nozzle was leaking and he was soaking wet. And the last window he had worked on had a screen instead of a window, so now the outside of the inside window was dripping with dirty water, and there was no way to get at it.

At this point we figured we had done almost half of the windows and we deserved a break. We finished the job in bits and pieces, doing a few windows at a time. It was rewarding when they were all clean and shiny. The smears on the sun room door, made by Venus drooling over the neighbour’s cat, are gone. The birds eating at the bird feeder are now visible from where we eat at the dining room table. And our guests will be able to see our front garden in full bloom as they sit on the bathroom toilet. Mission accomplished.

As for next year? We can no longer deny that we are slowing down. A retired columnist, writing about Joe Biden and aging in the weekend Toronto Star, summed it up when she said it was time for him to take off his “running shoes.” And for us, maybe it’s time to put away the Windex.

Sue