Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Rod Must Die

I’m in a dark place at 3:30 am.
Fred is throwing up, I just picked up Sheba poo in two places and bloody Rod, who was here for a day installing the cistern switch, screwed up. Last night I ran out of water. I can’t shower, flush the toilets or do any dishes because he clearly has disconnected the generator that creates my water pressure. He’ll have to die. I called him and told him to be here at 9:00 sharp!
However, when I went out for wood I was truly gobsmacked by the sky. The stars must have moved a universe closer. It took my breath away to see how clear the sky was and how bright the shimmering stars were. It was truly a breathtaking sight.
We are not free or worldly concerns here in Pinecone Park. Monday night we had a terrorist but no one was injured. Both Sheba and I were just scared shitless by the noise. It was probably a raccoon or a feral cat; I found the hole and path it had dug under my fence.
Tuesday began at 3:30, the new normal, in the ink black of night here. Fetching wood from the shed I could hear the wind high up in the trees. I came back thinking how glad I was for the sound instead of traffic noise and mad, angry people spewing their hate. And then, back inside, I heard the sound of a downpour on the tin roof.
Rainy days are rather dull. Sheba and I can’t play outdoors. And yesterday there was no Darrell for distraction. We were on our own all day. I raked the side and front yard but Sheba chose to stay indoors.
I started playing with the cats and it was wonderful to notice encouragement of my affection. Ethel was asleep on the couch and there’s something about her that I adore, so I sat down and started stroking her. But every time I’m affectionate with her, Fred comes over and jumps up and bites Ethel, not hard, in the neck. It’s easy to read his action as jealousy, but who knows. It is, however, a pattern. So yesterday morning I picked Fred up and held him and stroked him and he stayed and purred and loved it. That was a first.
While playing Chase The String with F & E on my bed I started crying because I learned the game that they love so much from Leon. I just stopped moving, closed my eyes and quietly cried, covering my mouth as I did. And when I opened my eyes several seconds later, all three of my beloved pets had moved close and were looking directly up at me. It’s likely the weird breathing, but it moved me and brought me back to being happy.
I raked the entire front yard while Rod was sabotaging my water system. I left picking up the piles of garden detritus until today because I decided to make a cake. That way, I can eat it and still have enough to share with Dwight when he comes on Friday for the weekend.
In 1984 I was asked to be the stage manager for a show I didn’t like. I was a play about gay men with a long nude scene and it seemed insincere and exploitative to me. But I needed work and they’d cast a guy in the role of Kink (who did the nude scene) who I thought was a nice — and he was handsome, too, so I took the job.
On the first day of rehearsal “Kink” and I had lunch together and I told him he was the reason I’d signed on. “Kink” was Dwight and we’ve been best buddies ever since. He came to live with Steve and I for five years.
And although I’m the older one, he often feels like the wiser big brother to me. He’s just brilliant about people and life, he’s beautifully passionate about aspects of industrial design (chairs in particular) — especially Canadian design and he’s kind, ethical and we laugh often and easily together. Best of all is I can tell in everything about him that he likes my company.
I bought the coolest thing today via mail order. I’m going to hang it high up on the end of my shed that faces the entrance to my yard. It’s totally useless and silly and wonderful. You’ll have to wait to know what it is until it arrives and I take a photo.
Darrell is back today and his plan, I think, is to start insulating and putting up the vapor barrier. And it’s going to be a gorgeous day. Now … I wait for water.

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