Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Hell, I grew up here. I should know more about surviving than this. I feel like such an idiot.
Despite having a warm shower last night, I can’t help but strip down to my birthday suit and have another. There’s nothing worse than the feeling of dried sweat coating your body.
After getting myself dressed and ready for the day, I trudge through to the kitchen and sniff out the coffee, letting out a relieved sigh when I find the coffee pods for the fancy machine I bought Nana a few years ago. She loved this machine. Couldn’t get enough of it.
I fire it up, and as it comes to life, I head over to the fridge, but when I yank the door open, my eyes settle on the expired jug of milk.
Shit. I’m going to have to make a trip to the grocery store. And while I’m at it, I should probably invest in some better winter apparel. Nana kept all my heavy coats from my teen years, but they’re old and worn out. And as for Nana’s old clothes . . . I just can’t.
Having to make do without milk in my coffee, I settle at the kitchen counter with a notebook and pen while trying to figure out a game plan.
The house is in worse condition than I thought. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It’s livable, but it also doesn’t stand a chance when up against the modern homes in the area. This was Nana and Pop’s first and only home together. They raised my mom here and then raised me, and as much as I love that, it means the house is severely outdated. Hell, there are still lines on my bedroom door frame to mark my height over the years, which only goes to show that the house hasn’t been painted since I was a little girl.
I could try to sell it as-is, but I wouldn’t just be doing a disservice to myself, I’d be doing a disservice to Nana and Pop. They deserved the best price for the home they loved so much, even if it means extending my stay just a few extra weeks.
Opening my notebook to a fresh page, I jot down everything I need to do.
Sort through Nana’s possessions (create donate or trash piles)
Sell/trash old furniture
Remove old wallpaper
Fix imperfections in the drywall
Replace carpet
Upgrade floorboards
Bring kitchen into the 21st century
Freshen up bathroom and laundry
LEARN HOW TO USE FIREPLACE!!!!!!
My gaze lingers on the list. There’s a lot to do and certainly a lot that I have no idea how to do. Either way, it’s daunting.
I might have to head down to Hardin’s Hardware and see if John is still running the show. He was always helpful . . . when he wanted to be. He was quite fond of Nana, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to give me a rundown on how to best tackle this job and maybe even suggest a good starting spot.
By the time I have completely filled three whole pages with lists of things I need to do, I grab the keys to Pop’s old truck and shove them deep into the back of my jeans pocket. I need groceries if I’m going to have any hope of surviving this, and in order to do that, I’m going to need to tackle the driveway.
Marching out the back door, I head straight to the old shed, slowly creeping toward it. When I was younger, I had irrational fears that a monster lived in here, and despite being a grown-ass woman and knowing better, I still hesitate, certain I’m about to face imminent death.
The shed door creaks open, and I let out a heavy breath, finding the snow shovel right by the front. With lightning speed, I wrap my hand around the handle and yank it out, letting the shed door slam closed behind me.
I sprint away from the monster’s lair, my heart pounding as I bring my knees up high with each step through the mounds of snow. Running in the snow has never been a strong point for me.
When I’m a few feet away from reaching the front yard, I stop running, needing to brace my hands on my damp knees to calm myself. That was way too much to deal with before eight in the morning. Either way, I survived the shed monster. Nana would be so proud.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself, taking deep, heaving breaths. I might have to keep this shovel outside while I’m here. I can’t risk facing that shit every damn morning. I don’t know how Pop managed to survive it all those years.
Dragging the shovel behind me in the snow, I make my way around the corner only to stop dead in my tracks. My brows furrow with confusion. “What in the ever-loving hell?”