Saturday, April 10, 2004
Accidents Happen, Delores.
Five points for anyone who can tell me what movie that line is from!
Today was sunny. In Ohio that means a diffused light, and not like the direct sun against a vivid blue of the Rocky Mountains. In the last week, it seems as though Disney or a paint-by-numbers artist has been at work, suddenly saturating the grass GREEN, with flowers PINK and YELLOW.
I've been painting many of the rooms in my side of the duplex. In the past, I enjoyed designing rooms around mis-tints and paint returns picked up cheap. But with this place, I recently decided not to use color; instead I have been painting in shades of nothing but white.
This morning, I woke up to a room glowing in light. Fresh air gently moved the blinds through the open windows, and the proportions of the room and the imperfections of its walls and ceiling gave a feeling like being in a European monastary. For a moment, I imagined I would spend the day in blessed silence, thinking about forgiveness or man's fate or ... something. I didn't want to get up, and instead lay considering the patches of sun and listening to the birds.
The sun stayed all day. I spent the late afternoon on the front porch. I sat on an old red and white-painted metal swing left with the house, reading a blog-friend's manuscript. Grace watched attentatively from the screen door. Neighbors mowed the grass, repaired things, walked the dogs. At any moment, I thought I might hear the crackle of the radio with the Lucky Strikes Parade of Stars hour.
My tenant's son came out from their side, carrying a stuffed bunny toy and a shirt.
As we were talking, the Ladies parked their car next door and began unloading groceries. Not one minute had gone by when one of the Ladies fell at their front stoop, cardboard boxes of pop thumping on to the porch. "Shit!" (That's lesbians for you.) "I tripped on the god damn door!" A moment later, they both were laughing.
Shortly after that, my mind short-circuited as I thought of my tenant: What about the rent? What about the lease? My mind shuffled through potential causes of action: Would I be considered liable for my tenant's actions?
So then, I thought about chance. We all fall. Sometimes we laugh, and sometimes we land in the hospital. But, even with a hospital visit, there's nothing you can do except live with it and deal with it as best as you can.
Some folks sure seem to be accident-prone. My tenant has had issues already. I've been lucky, so far, but I could fall in the tub taking a shower tomorrow. I haven't had a car-crash dream in awhile, but I bet I'm due for one tonight! It's fate.
Ah. Well. I've calmed down now. Things returned to normal in the neighborhood -- once again the sounds of mowers and distant hammering. I suppose my tenants might have to move; I suppose I could be served with papers. But I've always treated them respectfully, and I hope I will be treated respectfully in return: Rent will be paid or premises left in good condition. In the quiet of the evening, I'm really thinking about how weird my mind works.
Note: Easter Sunday, 2004
If you want to be depressed, type in "falling" under images on any search engine. I searched on this for visuals for this entry, and what came back was disturbing: People burning, falling; People jumping from the World Trade Center buildings; People falling off other buildings.
Today was sunny. In Ohio that means a diffused light, and not like the direct sun against a vivid blue of the Rocky Mountains. In the last week, it seems as though Disney or a paint-by-numbers artist has been at work, suddenly saturating the grass GREEN, with flowers PINK and YELLOW.
I've been painting many of the rooms in my side of the duplex. In the past, I enjoyed designing rooms around mis-tints and paint returns picked up cheap. But with this place, I recently decided not to use color; instead I have been painting in shades of nothing but white.
This morning, I woke up to a room glowing in light. Fresh air gently moved the blinds through the open windows, and the proportions of the room and the imperfections of its walls and ceiling gave a feeling like being in a European monastary. For a moment, I imagined I would spend the day in blessed silence, thinking about forgiveness or man's fate or ... something. I didn't want to get up, and instead lay considering the patches of sun and listening to the birds.
The sun stayed all day. I spent the late afternoon on the front porch. I sat on an old red and white-painted metal swing left with the house, reading a blog-friend's manuscript. Grace watched attentatively from the screen door. Neighbors mowed the grass, repaired things, walked the dogs. At any moment, I thought I might hear the crackle of the radio with the Lucky Strikes Parade of Stars hour.
My tenant's son came out from their side, carrying a stuffed bunny toy and a shirt.
- "Hey Hugshyhermit, man, I'm on my way to visit Mom in the hospital."
"The hospital! What happened?"
"You see the easter eggs in the trees? We were decorating, and the leg of the plastic chair just snapped and she fell. She's fractured the bone beneath her knee in two places."
As we were talking, the Ladies parked their car next door and began unloading groceries. Not one minute had gone by when one of the Ladies fell at their front stoop, cardboard boxes of pop thumping on to the porch. "Shit!" (That's lesbians for you.) "I tripped on the god damn door!" A moment later, they both were laughing.
Shortly after that, my mind short-circuited as I thought of my tenant: What about the rent? What about the lease? My mind shuffled through potential causes of action: Would I be considered liable for my tenant's actions?
So then, I thought about chance. We all fall. Sometimes we laugh, and sometimes we land in the hospital. But, even with a hospital visit, there's nothing you can do except live with it and deal with it as best as you can.
Some folks sure seem to be accident-prone. My tenant has had issues already. I've been lucky, so far, but I could fall in the tub taking a shower tomorrow. I haven't had a car-crash dream in awhile, but I bet I'm due for one tonight! It's fate.
Ah. Well. I've calmed down now. Things returned to normal in the neighborhood -- once again the sounds of mowers and distant hammering. I suppose my tenants might have to move; I suppose I could be served with papers. But I've always treated them respectfully, and I hope I will be treated respectfully in return: Rent will be paid or premises left in good condition. In the quiet of the evening, I'm really thinking about how weird my mind works.
Note: Easter Sunday, 2004
If you want to be depressed, type in "falling" under images on any search engine. I searched on this for visuals for this entry, and what came back was disturbing: People burning, falling; People jumping from the World Trade Center buildings; People falling off other buildings.