Written Sunday

Ed and I were watching one of those “house hunting” programs the other night. It’s always interesting to see different neighborhoods and house layouts and backyards on these programs.

One couple looking for three bedrooms and at least two baths had bid on two other houses but the sales hadn’t gone through. Ed translated that to mean they didn’t have any money.

The wife said at one point, she was so eager to have their own house so at last they could live their life free of worry and having enough room for everyone would be Heaven. I got the impression she thought all her housing problems would go away.

I wouldn’t trade our house for anything (well, maybe a large apartment near Lincoln Center in Manhattan because the battle between paradise and a life of art and intellect is, for me, a no-brainer). Howevere, worry and fuss will still dog their days.

Ed snarled at me this morning while I was playing the piano. He appeared at my side suddenly. I was in the middle of something complicated, totally focused, in a trance. Ed does not relate to this kind of intensity. I jumped three feet. He looked annoyed. He was outraged at the fact that the air-conditioner has a problem and we have to turn it off until it is fixed. There was a huge leak from the roof dripping down onto the garage floor. We know this is the A/C because this has happened before. It is Sunday. We can’t do anything till tamale. And this is especially annoying because we had all the duct work replaced a year ago because it was crumbling. I am thinking the A/C outfit has some explaining to do and it may be that they will make this repair at no cost.

Since buying our little castle, we have spent a lot on upgrades and repairs and we have a wish list for more. In New York, when something got broke, we’d call the super. We tipped him, but it was still cheaper than calling a plumber or an electrician and less frustrating than our non-tattooed approach to major repairs. We paid rent. These things were the landlord’s responsibility. Now they are ours.

I wish that couple good luck with their dream but their work won’t be done.

I wrote about our plants dying while other plantings in the neighborhood thrive. So I am insisting we water more and there is a hose I dragged from the side of the house out to the front and even though it was my project, Ed took it away from me and watered. He said he didn’t like to use this hose because then it just lays around, so I said I would put it away. He went inside. I went to turn the water off and the end of the hose had jumped off the fitting and a stream of water was shooting straight up, hitting the overhang of the roof and going in all directions. I got soaked turning it off. Ed didn’t notice when I came in that I was dripping and I had to point this out to him. I then asked him why all our fittings leak and he said it was in the nature of fittings to do that. “We can go to the moon,” I said, “but we can’t make a hose fitting that fits snugly?” “Yes,” he said (smugly, I thought).

I do realize these are happy problems. I am going now to attend to Ed’s mood, to jolly him out of snarling.

Wish me luck.

xx, Teal