Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: In The Kitchen - deadline 7-19-12 @ 9:59 AM NY Time (07/12/12)
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TITLE: More Times Than I Want To Admit | Previous Challenge Entry
By Carla Procida
07/18/12 -
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I avoided my own thrilling 2012 task for longer than I wanted to admit. One of the reasons was the possibility of uncovering some furry little summer tenants living in the pot and pan tenement below, a breeding ground for my excuses. I also feared what lurked in the dark corners where half cocked bottles drunk on 409 were sprawled across cardboard soaked by the dripping pipe above.
My husband Craig of thirty four years (God bless him) went in head first like a Honey-Do Rambo as I stood a safe distance away holding open a garbage bag. I said not a word as the hefty giant devoured a rusted toaster in one gulp, washed down by an aged Mr. Coffee, God rest its soul. For desert it feasted on rags soaked in lemon polish and "chocolate" sprinkles left behind by the above mentioned occupants.
Now comes “sticky” part. It was time to rip up the old contact paper which lined the four foot by two foot area. There was certain exhilaration in Craig’s eyes as the old paper was torn away where it lay longer than I want to admit. The hefty giant, still not full, swallowed wads of greasy paper as if it hadn't eaten in years.
Except for my husband banging his head several times on the top of the cabinet, it seemed things were going well, too well I'm afraid and foolish of us to think we’d have most of the afternoon free to ride to the nearby shore. It was time to lay the new paper down (which I bought for this project two years ago, ok maybe three. Anyway, longer than I want to admit). That’s when frustration and insanity arrested us and no wonder, we were following Murphy's law like all good citizens of life
Separating the sticky paper (I say sticky with a new found respect and twitch in my eye) from its backing, I realized how sinister new contact paper is. It could be a torture technique, although it could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Or we could wait till they were brought to the point of tears (about an hour after giving them the paper) then proceed to show them that by simply tearing at the edge a little it separates easily and then make them adhere it to the naked plywood before it sticks to itself!
Two hours later, after I put back the freshly scrubbed pots and pans and assorted cleaning products, wrinkled bumps and patched up sections were hidden for the most part. My husband left for the gym to take his punishment out on a punching bag, though he already had his workout out with a "contact" sport. Longer than he wanted to admit.
As I finished straightening up the rest of the kitchen I came to the conclusion life is like contact paper. You may be wondering how I could make the connection between the two. I’ll tell you how I see it. The old paper is the mess in a part of our lives, perhaps hidden away inside, even forgotten. But when the light finally shines, it can be very scary! We tear at our messes with the good intention of replacing them with the new and shiny, as we do with New Year’s resolutions
when we take all the garbage, expecting the bent-over old man to devour it when the poor guy can only swallow strained carrots and Geritol. The diapered new born can only handle milk at best, leaving us with wrinkled bumps and patched up sections covered by sticky resolutions. By the end of each year we guiltily tear down the metal tenements and vacuum up "chocolate" sprinkles.
The conclusion of my observations while cleaning the cabinets underneath our kitchen sink is I relate them to my own continual tossing of the garbage of my life into God's hefty sea of forgiveness and most importantly I immediately approach His throne of mercy and grace, thus not permitting sins to fester and become the breeding ground for Satan’s lies. More times than I want to admit.
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I have a few nit picky things on punctuation to point out.
When specifying a name as in "my husband, Craig," you need a comma before and after the name.
You need a hyphen when writing out numbers like thirty-four.
When combining two or more words to form a compound adjective, put hyphens between these words. Example: four-foot by two-foot area
I have to say I was a little confused by the paragraph about the hefty giant devouring the toaster, etc. I thought you were referring to the husband, but obviously speaking metaphorically or something. Upon reading that paragraph again, it appears you meant the garbage bag. I think that point could have been made more clear, but maybe it was just me. I do love the description you used in that humorous paragraph. ;)
Anyway, this is a very nicely written story that made me smile. I'm guessing it will place well.