#72 Any Day NowPosted: November 19, 2013
Assuming that it would be only a year or less, I moved from a large apartment to a sufficient efficiency in the same high-rise. It made a welcome difference to my budget. I made the move quickly and didn’t care about the view, or that it sits behind the bank of elevators. In the beginning I thought that noise must have been drummers from a marching band. Having already established myself as “trouble” with the head of maintenance, I didn’t want to go yet another round with him to get literally the least attention possible. One screenplay was already headed for a sure sale. I wouldn’t be here long. Ha! I’ll write of that another time.
“Trouble” here is anyone asking for the basics. In this case, a phone line in the bedroom. There are two in the living room, but oddly none in the bedroom. In an age of cordless phones, I didn’t bother. No one here understands why the building owners put up with the raging maintenance guy. I go around him to the nice maintenance guys. Honestly he’s scary. We all figure he’s somebody’s nephew. Coward that I am, I still put a little something in an envelope for him for the holidays, the only time he’s slightly polite.
But it wasn’t a few months. It’s been several years. I hate to think of how long I’ve lived here because I’m supposed to be on an Oregon beach. However my warm and comfortable cave has suited my trimmed down life.
The ancient cordless phone, which was based near the kitchen, didn’t have caller id. To screen a call I’d have to hot foot it to the living room for the very noisy desk phone before it went to voice mail. Yes I have a mobile phone, but still prefer the quality of a landline. So there!
At last I got a replacement for the old cordless, which is much smaller, much lighter and holds a charge much longer.
Next, leaving the man in my life, #56 It Takes Two, meant having to buy everything a person needs for a life. Most of those items are wearing out at the same time. A microwave runs intermittently. Handles fell off the original cheap pots. The desk phone splitter is held together with duct tape, because finding the right connection again overwhelms me. The Danish wooden dish drainer just collapsed, though I tried to hammer it back together. And my favorite beautifully painted wooden tray slid off the end of my bed the other day, and each piece put together with wooden pegs flew apart. So did everything on the tray. I’ve reconstructed it for now. My beloved Kitchen Aid mixer that’s lost a gear or two. The coffee carafe that no longer holds its seal. Many more items are crumbling but you get the picture.
As long as I’m laughing at myself for that, back in the mid ‘80’s I decided that I must have a very tough tush, or derriere. My Peugeot was two or three years old, but I had never felt the benefits of the seat warmer. When I finally got around to mentioning it to the mechanic in Pennsylvania, he checked the wiring. It had never been connected.
On my desk is the ubiquitous in-box. I just measured it at less than 2” deep. The stack accumulating in it is nearly 6”, approaching geological layers. When something crosses this desk, and I don’t have a decision, into the purgatory bin it goes. You know, that Blue Cross explanation of benefits that looks vaguely puzzling. Or the article I wanted to read but not just now. The catalog with vitamins I’ve been meaning to order. Or next year’s thick insurance booklet when it’s not time to replace this year’s booklet in the file. I’m extremely organized with a file for everything, except those in-between items. In business generally you could toss that stuff. Either you’d hear from them again, or it didn’t matter. I know how annoyed I’ll be if this stack topples over. So I’ll be wading through it any day now.