While looking over the pictures of the house issue; being the drain pipe backing up leading to lying men who pass as plumbers out to fix it, only to back up again {as pictures 001-006 show (unfortunately blogger won't let me publish all of the pictures, so you just get a taste to the left, sorry)}, to be followed by an even poorer excuse for a plumber out at the bewitching hour of night (for the misses and I could catch a plane at the sleeping hour of 6:00 a.m.) who then said, (and I quote) “well, I really don’t now how to do this, so just call us in the morning and we’ll have the original guy come out ad fix it.” Then drove off like a siren in the night leaving me outside in the cold holding a flashlight alone and having to then have to go in and wake my wife with this information. We’re just on the first six pictures of this adventure, and the real plot of the story isn’t even about this. So that being said I will skip a bit of the dramatics here and there. But after a week plus of occasional phone calls, a few emails (one containing some wonderful use of my wife’s cunning wit to let them know their true place in the customer/company relationship) we finally got a decent bloke from the company out, who informed us that the issue was actually a broken sewer pipe cause our house still had clay piping. He also made us aware of what one of our fare city’s perks are, in that they will cover this up to a certain dollar amount from a twenty dollar a year tax we pay. I want to tell you that I’m happy there’s a tax for that here. I think it’s one of the few times I can actually understand the theory of where the hell my money actually goes. And I need to be reminded of that every so often. I promise that this will cost more that the possible two hundred dollars they might get from us if we were going to be in the house for ten years. And its in payments so little, I really don’t care.
Norton just stretched off the couch. It’s been a long day for him. We walked for quite a while. Too long in all reality. But it was the walk we’ve been craving. So we did it, and then came home. I digress only to circle around the topics I’m so frustrated with. But I have much more to say, and I don’t want this to get boring.
So we had our fun time with the city out to the house a couple of times to learn that the busted pipe was under the porch and part of the walkway to the driveway. We hear nothing for a week plus when suddenly I wake up one day to a different set of incompetent workers from the different utility companies of the world out “marking” where all their lines were. Let me also explain what “marking” means to these people. They were spraying the lines on top of snow, that was even forecasted to melt the very next day, to which low and behold it did. But there was one of these men, who for whatever theory he had in his head, entered my backyard, and disrupted Norton’s rest. And my dog, my faithful little pup, was attacking him in the back yard while he was “marking” where sewer line was. Part of me really hopes Norton ripped part of his jacket, but I get mean sometimes. So we call the city. The city calls us back. It turns into a love hate relationship filled with headaches, back pain, bloating, and a general discomfort with the life you were really enjoying even with all it’s highs and lows. I love the lows as much as the highs. Because in the lows is where you find the truest moment of love. When you really don’t care what it takes; you love. And that’s all you need. That’s all you know the other needs. Because with the love, you’ll be all right.
The day comes when you get the blessed phone call, “Yes, we were calling you to let you know that we will be at your house at around 8:00 a.m. Monday to start the work on your pipes.” And there really was much rejoicing. That’s exactly how I felt. Then I got home to a giant C.A.T. construction device and a wagon of pipes and other implements of destruction sitting in front of our house. {Images 007, 008, 047, 048, 050-053, and 060-063 in case you needed to know.} It was a little disconcerting. I understand that they’re going to need this thing here on Monday, but it’s Friday man. I mean, do I really need to stare at it for two whole days before you’re actually going to do anything with it. That and the temptation to joy ride in it was almost too much. I did discover that they don’t lock those things by the way so if ever you get the opportunity, take some pictures, cause I didn’t and I do wish I had. I’m probably just being picky, but it annoyed me.
Monday came as it does any other Monday in the world. Subtle differences were in the air, but nothing that anyone else on the block, much less the world would be impacted by in the least. However I was awake at a quarter to eight, to be told they were here, and that they needed to shut the water off, till noon, so we needed to get everything we could done and out in the next couple of minutes. Why didn’t we expect this? How could we. No one expected the Spanish Inquisition; no one expects no more use of toilets for the morning or face wash or any other little convenience water might hold for you, to be stripped from you right when you crawl out of bed. So I’m awake. Not really. But awake. Light hurts. Cold hurts. Stumble for socks. Shoe is on the wrong foot. “What did you say?” Ears clogged like my drains. Oh shit, time to go. “Goodbye love.” Stumble on stairs. Open front door. Man crawls in nine-foot hole where your walkway once sat. {Images 068-073 for those with the home guide} I actually thought to myself for a moment about the old walkway. You never really think of a walkway of just vanishing. But it does. The things you learn.
The rest of my Monday was a usual Monday. Had a steady lunch. Busy dinner. Fried rice for dinner, again. I really should have had the miss’s soup instead, but I was feeling more for solids. I should always listen to my wife. But that decision was made after arriving home to the last basic installment of pictures that I was going over. {074-091, 103 yes there’s a jump there, in a minute.} So that’s how I came home, my front door caution taped to the world. I knew it would happen one day. In fact I’m happy and kind of surprised that it’s not a biohazard tape. But even still, it’s a hard thing to come home to.
As you might tell, these pictures weren’t all taken at the exact moments that which the stories occur. In fact most of them were taken the next day. And on this Tuesday, the day that I’m writing this epic notion, thinking that someone is going to read this and feel empowered to change the world. I went out today to take pictures of what has become of my house. My cave. My palace. My refuge. And while taking these pictures I came across something that stopped my dead in my tracks. Not many things do that these days. After a great deal that life has thrown at me I’m a pretty unmovable rock I think. Be then I remember that all rocks crumble under the right pressure. What I saw was a dead mouse, partially flattened by a tire, eye wide open looking up at me. {092-102 in your picture slide show.} You could see where nature had started its decomposition end of the bargain. He looked so peaceful, yet so angry and lost. I know, it’s just a mouse. What does it matter? Well we have had mice problems in our house. I guess we still do. At one point we put down some mouse poison out where if you knew were is was you’d see it. And I awoke one morning to find a nice chunk out of it eaten away. It struck my heart. It hit it hard. I couldn’t eat meat that whole day. I still now have days where I can’t do it. But I’m already a different person then I was when I first saw the apple for a snow white of a mouse have a bits out of it. Only true love’s kiss wouldn’t heal these wounds. I heard it once as a rumor. I knew it then as a truth. I understand it now as life. So I’m stuck in my tracks, empowered, and drained all at once by this mouse. So I capture the moment as best as my amateur photographs can allow. I took it all in. The Birth. The Life. The Sacrifice. The Death. The Decay. It was all there for if only a brief moment. But I felt it. I understood it. And I moved on from it; with it. Norton and I proceeded to walk down to the park where we could sit and watch the sunset by something I believe we call a beach at a lake. It was lovely. The colors melded together in such a way that my words would never be able to properly explain it. Cheesy I know. But true. We walked home. And I wrote.
There are very many more things that I think I should say, but not all stories are meant to have endings. Nor should all endings have stories for that matter. I have taken in the day. I’ve welcomed in the night. Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, and I have Worry. Concern. Doubt. Angst. Fear. But I do feel, with great amounts, Hope. That lights that were thought to be at the end of the tunnels are there. The stars aren’t a limit; they’re a new beginning. And the promise of Life, Love, and Liberty still have place in all our hearts.
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