I’ve been baching it for a month, living alone without my honey, tucked into our small Pennsylvania attic apartment, doing building repairs. Beyond the emotional loneliness, how did I fare?
When I arrived I was able to empty my suitcases and put my clothes into the four-drawer dresser, sorted not stuffed. I put all my work clothes in the top drawer and my few clean dress clothes in the second drawer, socks and underwear on top of shirts on top of trousers. It was a simple two-tier system, and I felt proud of myself for my efficiency, which soon unraveled.
Once the shower and floor work began, I had three categories of clothing. Dress clothes, clean work clothes, and dirty work clothes. The dirty work clothes collected in a pile by the bathroom door. When dress clothes got used, they got deposited on the floor as well in a separate fourth pile at the foot of my bed so I wouldn’t wash them with clothes covered in sawdust, paint, polyurethane, grout and thinset.
Then I complicated things further. As previously mentioned, I brought a bunch of clothes to leave here permanently, for both work and leisure. I decided to keep them separated so when I returned to California I’d have my travel clothes together as a unit to make packing easier. I saw it as planning ahead, not as an unnecessary sorting that I could have done the night before my flight.
So I had clean work clothes to leave here, clean work clothes to take home, dirty work clothes, clean dress clothes to leave here, clean dress clothes to take home, and dirty dress clothes, six categories. All dirty clothes were organized in piles on the floor because what civilized man would put them into my two remaining empty dresser drawers?
Then things got weirder. I decided to separate my work clothes that were too dirty to wear again from dirty work clothes that I could wear for another day or two. The latter were dropped in a pile by the front door, which I called category 7.
When the dirty piles outweighed the clean, I took my laundry downstairs to Frank’s apartment and used his washer dryer. We have our own washer dryer, but it’s small. I wanted to launder in bulk.
I did all dress clothes first, including my white sheets and tie-die underwear that I’d bought recently at a flea market. When I pulled them out of the dryer, I discovered that my once-white sheets now had patches of pink, blue, and green, as did two of my dress shirts that were supposed to come home with me. That’s what I get for doing laundry six times in 30 years.
I did no cooking. I never went grocery shopping beyond picking up half and half and one pack of English muffins and some butter. I didn’t have time to cook. Each morning I awoke at dawn, donned my reusable work clothes, and went downstairs to begin sanding 120-year-old hardwood floors. I worked all day long until 6 p.m. when my brother-in-law Craig would show up after putting in his own long day constructing showers and kitchens for other people in the area. He offered to help me build the shower, but was too booked to give me full days. He’d stop by at sunset, and we’d work until 9 or 10 p.m. A total of 28 out of 30 days worked like this, including the 4th of July.
For food, Ridgway is an interesting place. Food is good and cheap, but it’s mostly bar food, hamburgers, hot dogs, and cheesesteaks with pepper jack and jalapenos, my favorite. Ridgway has a breakfast and lunch diner called Joey’s three blocks from me that is packed to bursting every morning because it’s the only place in town to get a decent breakfast. I made it there a couple of times. Ridgway has no dinner house. It did once, an over-priced steak and seafood place by the river, but after the 5th flood, the owner called it quits. Also the West End Superette proves home-cooked meals – stews, pork chops, and such — for $3.
Years ago, I joined all the fraternal orders. I’m a member of the Elks, Moose, American Legion, and the VFW, all of which serve bar food amazingly cheap. I’ve eaten burgers in every club in town. The Elks, one block from my house, is the best because they offer condiments beyond ketchup, mustard, pickles, and onions. My priciest meal has been $5.75 for a cheesesteak with fries. My vegetable intake has come mostly from piling on condiments, then removing them from my burgers to create a side salad.
Even without eating, my dishes somehow piled up. They’re mostly coffee cups and water glasses, but it’s amazing how full a bachelor’s sink can become. I’ve had to do dishes twice this month.
In the wee hours, Susan and I talk, text, and send pictures back and forth. That’s my favorite time of day. I’m ready for another 30 years of marriage.

Steve Gibbs is a retired Benicia High School teacher who has written a column for The Herald since 1985.

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