All I asked my friend, Brenda, to do was hang new blinds in the two kitchen windows. That’s all. Because I’m too short to reach even standing on the step ladder. I’d actually forgotten what a Super A-type personality Brenda has. I remembered when she walked into the kitchen carrying her tub of spray bottles and rags and sponges and toothbrushes.
“Well,” she said, “here I am. Let’s get started.”
“Do you need all those cleaning supplies just to hang blinds?’ I asked innocently.
She looked at me with horror. “You’re surely not planning to hang new blinds without also washing the windows and the cupboards and the curtains and the teapots on the shelves beside the windows and the floor below the windows? You want everything to look sparkly when we’re done, don’t you?”
I think my voice was a little faint when I answered, “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
Not only is Brenda thorough but she moves at the speed of light, scrubbing away at the crevices in the cupboards with her toothbrush. Up and down off the ladder. Up and down off her hands and knees. It’s exhausting to watch her.
It turned out we could only hang one blind because I’d inadvertently bought two long ones, instead of a long and a short.
She finished up for the day and ordered me to go to Walmart and replace the wrong blind.
“And get white this time. You don’t want that tan one.”
“No, you won’t like it. Trust me, you want white.”
There was probably nothing I dreaded more a few days before Christmas than going to the “returns” counter at Walmart but as much work as Brenda had put into make my kitchen sparkle, it seemed the least I could do, so I stood in line, then trudged through the store to find my (white) replacement blind.