Doormat Blog

I needed a break from politics and organizing a writers’ series, so I decided to clean my doormat.

Big problem: said doormat is on the shady side of the house. Recent snows and overnight lows down to near zero meant the doormat was virtually encased in ice. And lest you get the wrong impression, this doormat rests on a lumpy assortment of stones half-buried in the dirt. There is no sidewalk, no patio, no pavement, no grass. All is, or was, covered in semi-solid snow, overlaid with millions of sunflower seed hulls from feeding the birds. (That’s another story, how I discovered why I shouldn’t do that.) Anyway, the doormat, one of those bulky jute things from a mill operated by skinny barefoot 12-year-olds in some 4th-world country where it never snows, would not budge. Not even after more applications of dumped buckets of hot water than I can count. Let me tell you, ice is amazing stuff, especially when the earth itself is frozen.

But I persevered. In the face of something ridiculous and essentially meaningless, I always persevere. That meant MORE hot water, more tugging and cursing, more attempted prying it off the ground with a big stick, more bashing at the edges with a splitting maul. Finally, it gave (whew). I now have it propped up in the sun to dry or at least get spiffed up a little.

All this because a pretty girl I haven’t seen for six months is coming down to visit. (In my experience, most women expect a doormat, at least in the winter.) After she flies back to Iowa, though, that sucker stays put till spring.