Journal. May 29. Big Clean up. First glasses of wine.

Picked up Jackie and Andre--who came with piles of blankets and linen and drove to Newton.  First stop (oh this always is the first stop in these kitchen-less days) is lunch.  This time we go to Greco's, the Italian Deli in the big original mall--now home to a Sears, a Staples, a Bed Bath and Beyond, Homegoods, Marshalls and a full range of fast food restaurants, most of which must have appeared in this still new century.  Greco's, however, has been there for years.  Not from my childhood, but we would buy  pizza dough and fresh mozzarella there in 1985 and I think it must be  where I purchased the pizza stone that now sits in the oven at Breeze Avenue.

We then went to the house with various eggplant sandwiches which we ate on the porch.  The first task was the kitchen.  It is an overwhelming mess.  And I am not even speaking of the pantry and the adjacent stone-walled room.

I began with the refrigerator.  I've never thought of myself as a compulsive recycler, but it did seem necessary to empty all glass containers--what to do with the contents?

I emptied  six or seven twelve year old bottles of deep brown ketchup down the drain.  They must have been bought for some grand picnics and never opened.  Many bottles of vegetable oil, jars of peanut butter, mustard, salad dressing.  Some contents got poured down the drain, but I also made many trips to the field in back of the old playhouse where I tossed oil, flour, lasagna and other once fine culinary products, all with expiration dates in the last century.

I worried a bit about attracting animals, but assume that the rains will wash much of it away, and even if deer and bears find some treats, the pleasures are transient, and as I won't be regularly tossing old grains and pastas, no bad habits will be developed.

And of course there were the drawers and cabinets.  Mice and chipmunks had lived happily amidst chewed up bits of paper and moldy plastic.  Remnants of nests filled drawers along with innumerable pieces of filthy silverware.  While I dealt with ancient foodstuffs,  Jackie emptied the cabinets, filled the sink with soapy water and washed an incredible number of dishes and glasses.  We wiped all surfaces with water and vinegar and  organized bags of plastic glass and paper to throw out.  
The sink works, as does the stove. There is a toaster oven which works. I haven't yet tried the oven or the micro-wave--but neither is essential at this point.

Elaine arrived from North Bergen in the midst of all this activity and joined in the fun.  Better yet, she'd brought wine, cheese and cherry tomatoes.    With the addition of the smoked oysters I traveled with cross-country and the breadsticks we'd bought at Greco's, we had a fine post-cleaning snack.

ruffled sheet with mark of squirrel

Well, mid-cleaning would be more accurate.  The days are long--lots of light and lots of time for sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, etc.  We did take a break from downstairs.  Jackie and Andre would be sleeping in the little bedroom.  That needed serious work.     The twin beds, unslept in by humans for many years had been left fully made, and on each of the pillows there was evidence that a chipmunk or squirrel had happily moved in.  Well-emptied nut husks were everywhere.  We stripped the beds, went through the linen closet, and began washing and drying piles of sheets and pillowcases.  Pulling out the Shop-Vac and another vacuum cleaner found in the closet, we tackled the leavings of decades in  in both bedrooms.

Many layers remain, but major inroads have been made.