Long Day

Randa and I put in about seventeen hours Saturday. Most of that was spent prepping this house for showing to the prospective buyers scheduled to tour at four in the afternoon. We started just after five in the morning. I spent most of my day trying to create the illusion of an organized basement area while Randa focused on cleaning the upper floors. At three-thirty in the afternoon, while doing my final touches in the basement, I dropped a glass bottle on the floor. It wasn’t empty. Gotta love those Shop-Vacs!!

Then, after the young couple left and we spent an hour of so talking, we went over to the new place we’re buying and where we’re building a small shed for the Arabian horse that Randa put on layaway a month ago. We’d put on roof decking but needed to cover it with tarpaper to slow down the buckling from the rains until we could put on shingles.

As soon as we stepped out of the truck, we began to sweat like a couple of field hands in a tobacco field. There was no breeze, no air stirring at all. Just an oppressive sweltering stillness.

By the time we’d worked fifteen minutes, I was drenched with sweat. Even with the sun down, the heat index was in the mid-nineties. Having the hammer stapler jam up three or four times did not facilitate the rapid completion of the project nor lower the frustration factor. I had to finish the last strip of black paper by hammering in roofing nails instead of using the staples. By the time the last nail was hammered home, it was past dark.

And so we drove home in a pickup truck with no working AC, our clothes soaked with sweat. The air that felt so hot and oppressive while we were working was rather refreshing plowing through the windows at fifty-five miles an hour. It was nice, for sure. But the cleaning, cooling surge of the shower, the slight, just right pounding of water against skin and muscle, now that was downright rejuvenating!

After all our work on this earth is done, after all of our tears and sweat have been poured out, after we have finished our last day under this world’s sun, we will lie down to a rest unimaginable. A cleansing of peace and solace from all our afflictions, all our laboring. There, in the comfort of Abraham’s bosom, we will await the returning of our Lord.

Unless, of course, he comes back before we get done.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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