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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Home - 8. Chapter 8
After the boys left, I decided to clear out Nonna and Pa’s clothes. Pa’s clothes had nothing in the pockets, but Nona had a pin on one of her coats. I wonder how Marlene missed that.
I read for about an hour, and then I turned in for the night.
The next morning after breakfast, I called the University. I made arrangements to stop over and check out my office and my teaching schedule. I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to check with the Dean of the Electrical Engineering Department to see if he could recommend an Engineering firm to review the wiring in the apartment and garage. I also needed to run an electrical line to the barn.
I was getting ready to leave when the boys showed up to start working on the barn. “We thought we would move the wood stove to the barn first, then start on the roof.”
I gave them the keys to the apartment, told them I was going to the University and would be back in time for lunch. Leaving them alone wasn’t a problem for me. If they were going to live here, they would have the run of the place. I felt I could trust them.
Arriving at the University, I checked-in with my Dean. He showed me where my office would be. As a junior member of his staff, my office reflected that. He told me that I might decorate my office anyway I wanted, and if I wanted to replace any of the furniture, it would be at my expense. The caveat being, the furniture would be mine and not the Universities.
I suppose not too many junior staff could afford to replace their furniture. So he felt comfortable offering me the opportunity of furnishing my own office. Little did he know, I could afford it, thanks to Pa.
I took a few minutes to determine if there was anything I wanted in that office. I decided I did not. On the way out, I told the Dean’s secretary that I didn’t want any of the furniture or decorations in what was going to be my office. She smiled, later I found out why. There was a picture on the wall she liked, and several of the staff, senior to me, could use the furniture. She thought theirs was worse than mine. On the way out, I met a colleague of mine. He was an English major, and we had had several discussions concerning England. He, as to the development of the language and me, as to the influence immigration had on historical events. There was a common baseline. As immigrants moved into England, they brought not only their language but also their history. We found a common thread.
I told him about buying office furniture. He immediately asked if he could have my old furniture. I wasn’t sure why except to conclude, his furniture must be worse than mine. I told him to have a go at it. Reminding him to tell the secretary as I had already told her. He said goodbye, see you later. I think he ran to my office.
I went to Engineering Hall, which was a separate building. I spoke to the Dean of Electrical Engineering, and he gave me the name of a firm. “The president of this firm is a graduate of mine. I’m confident he will do an excellent job for you.”
With that information, I headed home. I needed to check on the boys and fix lunch. As I approached my home, I could hear pounding. The boys must be working on the roof.
I made spaghetti for lunch with a fresh salad. I had some Italian bread that I bought at the grocer. When it was ready, I walked to the barn to call the boys to lunch. I could hear them as I got closer. “Tom, rip that section off. I’ll put this piece of plywood there.”
As Tom was ready to drop the torn section off the roof, he spotted me. “Back already?”
“Yes, I came back to fix lunch. When you’re ready, come to the kitchen.” I wonder how long it would be before they would be at the kitchen. I didn’t have to wonder. They were right behind me. “Hungry, are you?”
The smiles and nodding heads answered. “Be sure to clean up.” They knew where to go. I had shown them before.
I set out the salad, bread, and spaghetti. Plates were in the rack at the sink where we placed them last night to dry. I placed silverware on the table. When they came down from washing their hands, they had smiles on their faces. “Do you want water or coffee?” The answer, both.
One of the best compliments you can give a cook is an empty plate. These boys can eat. I cooked the equivalent of 2 lbs of spaghetti, and there wasn’t any leftover. The salad bowl was empty, as well as the loaf of bread. I had no dessert as I was full, I’m not sure about the boys. I’ve heard tales about farm boys. Big and strong from working a farm, but never heard anything about their appetite. I’ll have to think about whether I’ll invite them to dinner after they move in.
They went back to work. I cleaned up the kitchen. I had to call the electrician and then price out a range and refrigerator.
I went to my office, and I liked the sound of that. I started to check out office furniture. I needed a desk, chairs, filing cabinets, and something to decorate the wall. Then I wondered if I took a photo of my grandfather’s painting, could I have that enlarged and framed. It would have to be an excellent photo. Now I needed to call and see if I can find a photographer to do that.
I keep coming up with these ideas. I’m having difficulty finding the time to do them. I called the Electrician Company the Dean gave me. We agree that someone would come out this coming Friday to check out the project. I then went and ordered on line my office furniture to be delivered to the University. I called my Dean’s secretary, told her I had ordered my furniture and it would be delivered next week on Wednesday. She said she would handle it for me. Now the photographer, again checking the Internet, I found one close to the city. I called, told him what I wanted, and he said he could do that and had done several in the past. I made an appointment for this coming Monday.
The only thing left to do besides ordering furniture for the apartment is to determine the sewer line layout. A phone call to Mom and Dad would handle that, hopefully.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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