More Sanitizing

This time it’s buckets. Not just ordinary buckets. These are about as tall as I am, same width and height and made of industrial strength plastic.


First a lesson in the pressure washer (notice the studly equipment theme). When I get the thing in my mits, I somehow feel the urge to turn into a 12 year old boy with nothing to do but experiment with the game of “let’s see what’ll happen if…”


I tone it down considering that I’m once again dealing with a 240V machine, propane and gallons of really hot water. Alright so you spray it down with HOT water, then scrub with tank cleaner using a brush on a mop handle, then spray again, then scrub with citric acid, then spray again. Level this massive square on the tiny rectangle of a dolly and wheel the damn thing (without dropping it on the ground every 2 seconds) over to the tarp. Turn upside down to drain. Easy enough.


That is until it’s lunch time and we haven’t even made it through a quarter of them. I’m soaked, exhausted and have blisters forming on my hands. Eberardo is happy because he thinks we can get them done in 3 days! Nothing like seeing the glass half full. In the middle of the afternoon I have to admit that my attitude is draining down the sinkhole with hundreds of gallons of water. What exactly am I learning with this exercise? I’m accustomed to hard work - being a stylist kills your back and feet, plus you gotta have a smile on your face and be ON, making nice talk the whole day through. But this feels more like serving hard time than work. When I leave that day, I have nothing left in reserve to draw upon and I can’t fathom what the hell I was thinking. Going back to waiting tables crosses my mind.

The next day I show up with bandaids on my blisters and boosting on my resolve. I can do this! I've worked full time while going to school full time TWICE now for career changes and have spent most of my working life on my feet. (Anyone know a good career counselor?) I've seen the delirious side of exhaustion. This is nothing. The first bucket I heave onto its side makes me nauseous. Another day? Really? To break up the monotony of this torture I decide to start singing at the top of my lungs and for some reason, Pat Benatar is what pops out… “because hell, hell is for children…” Eberardo gets his waterproof radio out and tunes it to the Mexican station. I think the salsa beat works better with "love is a battlefield" and start belting it. I find that if I put my head part way in the bucket while spraying, it echoes 100 times louder than in the shower. FUN! Now I know the real reason he gave me the safety glasses. After a few hours, my Jewfro has gone from wild to just plain wilted to match the rest of me. It's hot outside, I'm hot and sweaty inside, my clothes and hair are wet with - hot - not cold water. I'm careful not to let my mind consider other options right now as I may come up with something - like stripping perhaps?

We get a break in the middle of the morning because Eberardo has to climb up to the roof to turn on the sprinklers. "Whatcha growin up there?" I ask. Apparently it's the cooling system for the storeroom that isn’t temperature controlled like the other. Oh right, I forgot that there are tanks of wine in there. Gotta keep it cool! Although it feels like Alaska in there to me right now. Could it be that rotten grape juice is more sensitive than I am? Or is it the slave labor affecting my sensibilities?



Gilles says he has plans to plant cover crops on the roof and vines on the side. Apparently it’s the best insulation outside of stone. He gives me a break in the afternoon to do inventory and stock new shipments. Crawling around the fridge with the smell of yeast invading my nostrils actually feels good after the last day and half. I ask him about the numbers we collected in the field and he tells me that along with predicting this year’s yield, it’s information gathering. He may collect for 5 years before he learns anything new. A lot of discoveries are by accident while viewing data. The more data you have access to, the more possibility of learning. Makes sense. Ok my back feels a little better I suppose.