Washing Windows

Last Saturday I worked 9 to 5.
A long day, but a good one.
I did a LOT that day, and I was very grateful.
I would much rather have a lot of work to do then stand around tapping my feet and flipping through catalogues.
At about 10:15, Wilma asked me in her sweet way if I could wash windows.
I agreed readily, and was anxious to get outdoors.
Nelle just shook her head. “Do you know what you just signed yourself up for?”
I just smile. Washing windows is one of the easiest jobs I could’ve been assigned.
I’ll take washing windows over going through the box room any day.
Wilma showed me where the bucket was, what soap to use, and, okay…
a really cool window washer squeegee that was basically a supersized model of the ones they have at gas stations.
I filled up my bucket, which was bigger than I thought :), and hauled it outside.
As soon as I opened the door, I wondered at the wisdom of my job choice.
It was warm, and the sun was beating down on the front windows pretty hard.
I shrugged and walked to the end of the stretch of windows to get started.
Any opportunity to get out today into the sunshine would be appreciated.
Bucket down, squeegee in, and I was off.
Up and down, up and down. Turn the handle to the rubber scraper, clean it off.
I did this for about 15 minutes, and was about half way done when I hear the “ding ding ding” of the railroad crossing arms.
Ignoring it, I kept going. I hear the train coming, see the cars stopped at the lights flashing.
The train conductor yanks on that horn,
and I jump about 6 feet straight up,
nearly dropping the squeegee on my head.
I laugh as it stops blaring, then grip the handle to start again.
HONK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This time it was only about 800 feet from where I was standing,
and I jump about 15 feet this time,
and I do drop the squeegee,
which lands on my skirt,
then on my sandals.
I can just here the car drivers in the street laughing.
And I have to admit that it would have been pretty funny to watch. ;)
I watch as the window hangings bounce and shake inside.
So the train passed, I stopped my hands from shaking and kept going.
Up and down.
Wipe it off.
About 45 minutes later, all the windows, doors, and windowsills are done, and I am warm, a little wet still from dropping the squeegee,
and thanking the Lord that our house doesn’t back onto a railroad track.