931st Post - Separated at Birth?

You have to understand something about cottage living. I'll tell you about it now. It is not for the faint of heart.

But first, a word from our sponsor.

Last month, Patricia and I made a sudden trip to Ross Farm Museum in New Ross, Nova Scotia. It was like our first sudden trip there several years ago, truth to tell. But, anyway, while there we chanced to talk to a young woman who worked there. She was working in one of the buildings sewing or crocheting or something. She was dressed in period garb. I asked how hot that clothing was and how close she hewed to the times of 150 years ago. She replied that she stayed as close as she could, but had to draw the line at things like showering. She would often shower more than once a day. Back 150 years ago, times were far different. The hat she wore, more like a doily than anything else, would cover a woman's hair virtually all the time because women and men back then might only bathe once or twice a year.

Once or twice a year!

Holy frig! Once or twice a year!

I am reminded of that analogy when I think of how cottage life works. How there is a different state of cleanliness, hygiene, even fashion, at our cottage than we would ever attempt here in the city.

Our former neighbour at the cottage, who just sold, used to have a note in his shed to the effect that they don't flush for number one. That means, well, if you have a pee, you don't flush.

If it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's brown, flush it down.

As for clothing: well, there are clothes I keep down there that I would never wear here. Wouldn't even be caught mowing the lawn in them, or painting my steps for that matter. The shirts they gave me in 2007 for volunteering for the Tall Ships Festival are perfectly good quality light blue cotton shirts. But they say "Security" along the back, and I don't want to wear something like that in public. At the cottage, it's fine. I'm wearing one of those shirts now, to be truthful, as I put it on this morning when I got up. Gonna wash it and return it to the cottage this weekend.

As for hygiene: Just take a look at the picture I took of myself a couple of hours ago; it's at the top of this post. I look like Astroboy's drunken father. I haven't shaven or showered since last Wednesday. Patricia might complain, but she's in the same boat as I. Borderline TMI, I know, but that's the reality of cottage living. It isn't for everybody.

But it is for us.

And we love it.

Back there this weekend for sure.

Bevboy