So before I fell down the stairs, I had spent the entire day tearing apart the storeroom which was filled with rusty tools, broken toys, old newspapers, love letters from before Su and I were married, and assorted other junk. I enlisted all the little kids and they dragged all the detritus of 18 years in Indonesia and deposited them in the living room of the beach house (which badly needs repairs). Then I started on the library which was full of broken toys, 80 Asmat carvings, and a thousand books. I sprayed all of the statues and put them in the empty storeroom for later during retirement when I hope to sell a few on Ebay.
I cleaned all of the bookcase, put the books back in order, and then we started the hard work. We had to take the statue cases and get them down from the second floor library to the second floor of the beach house. A brother-in-law came by to see what I was doing and got involved. He called his son over, and another of my brothers-in-law and a neighbor. We put a rope around the bookcases that held the statues and lowered them down to the ground floor, then carried them around the block to the beach house entrance, and finally stored them outside the beach house until the second floor is cleared of junk so that we can stick them up there for Su to use next year when she opens another baking business.
It was after all this that I slipped on some oil and fell down the third floor stairs. So I have two badly swollen, cut and bruised feet. Why is it always my feet? Actually I’m fortunate that I wasn’t more seriously hurt; I could just as easily have broken my neck so I guess that it just isn’t time to go yet.
More later on family in Asia stuff.
1 comment:
God you are always hurting yourself!!!!! The picture was taken in Taliwang actually. Take care!!!!!
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