I have not been in the shed since about a year ago now, when Laura and I installed things to keep shed stuff neater. Or maybe early January, when we put Christmas into two big storage cartons and put them in the shed.
At this moment, I hear, there are any number of plastic drink cups lined up along the edge of the threshold, each holding a formerly dirty penny and a solvent. I inquired, and learned the penny in Clorox is black; the penny in distilled vinegar is shiny clean. I don’t remember what most of the rest of the pennies are suffering, but probably can line up hot sauce and coke and such close enough to bleach or vinegar to guess.
A report is due on Monday. We started our day at Staples for the obligatory poster board, and, as it is Friday night, I am now waiting out the interminable football game so I can sink into my bed.
In between we went to Oberlin. Oberlin was a focus of the abolitionist movement, a terminal on the underground railway and starred as the town that started the Civil War. The town has not abandoned its history; it is one liberal city, and its college certainly lives up to the standards.
This was not the usual tour the campus tour, because I’m the only one in the house currently interested in college admission and I didn’t plan ahead. There was no school today; Kay said “Why not a tour of Oberlin or Wooster.” Of course, she texted me that yesterday. I tried, but could not fit in either college’s day tours with the poster board. Then, I thought of Carol.
Carol was my very first blog follower, probably because her friend, my daughter Beth mentioned it to her. Carol lived downstairs to Beth’s upstairs on Whitcomb, and has at least one of her cats buried in the pet graveyard at the old house. I probably should mention it to Kay; it’s where Jan planted all the daffodils in the old apple orchard.
I’m OK with Laura on a guided tour, or with someone with a sense of direction and a general understanding of the boundaries, but on her own makes no sense. I’m not good for more than a block of walking and Laura’s sense of direction is even worse than mine. Carol has lived in Oberlin a long time now. It’s the perfect place; she’s been an ultra liberal punk rocker since I met her. I called Carol, she met us and off they went. I made my way to a coffee house and waited.
There you have it; our first, semi-official tour. Oberlin offers undergrad courses that can lead to a graduate degree in mental health therapy, and that is Laura’s currently stated objective. We all know these are fluid; wait and see.