Tag: aging

Window Washers

For several spring seasons our aged bodies have been staring up in despair at our dirty windows. Peter felt it was his job as a homeowner to get some exercise by climbing ladders and stretching overhead to scrub and rinse. Last year he got a special device to hold the ladder against the roof, and we found a Windex spray bottle that attaches to the hose. It was my job to steady the ladder and hold my cellphone ready to call 911. The result was better, but still a lot of work.

This year the job seemed to be even worse. We needed the gutters, which had gone from sparkling white to an ugly grey, cleaned too. But our families rebelled, telling Peter it was time to give it up. Let somebody else do it. They said we could find window washers on Google, or from recommendations of neighbours. Or sometimes young kids might come to the door and offer their services. As long as they had references or proof of some sort of a company, and their own tools, it would be OK.

Very soon after one of these conversations, there was a knock at our door. Two guys in their mid-20’s with a folding ladder, a name of a company on their shirts, a scrub brush with a telescoping handle, and a backpack full of cleaning supplies stood in front of us. Like angels. They had just finished a house nearby, they had gutter experience, they could start the next morning and the price was right. Timing is everything.

In case of possible fraud or future house invasions, I took a picture as they left. I am obviously not a trained crime fighter because you can’t really see their faces or their name tags.

But at our age, almost any visitors are welcome. We got up early to have breakfast before the fun began. The guys arrived on time and went to work. One started washing widows, even taking out screens and hosing them down. The other one was the gutter expert. We stayed inside out of their way. Sometimes we got a shock as we went into a bedroom and saw hairy legs through a newly cleaned window. Other times we went outside to pick dandelions and watch the determined scrubbing. It felt like real joy as we followed them making their way around our house.

In about 5 hours they were done. The fun was over. We offered to pay but they asked us to do a walk around the house first – checking their work. We found one small corner that they had missed. They quickly unfolded the ladder and went to work. Then Peter got out his wallet. It was money so well spent.

Finally he went back to his chair, delighted that the job had been done and he hadn’t had to do it. And I hadn’t had to call 911.

Sue

Window Washers

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