Unexpected things crop up throughout day
I think maybe it was when I stepped outside while opening an umbrella and dropped my lunch into a puddle that I realized this week was one mishap after another. The next thought was that this was occurring at noon on a Wednesday, the midway point in a week, and that if I had any hopes of salvaging the next two days I might want to consider going home, crawling into bed and staying put.
Only I knew I couldn’t do that. Sure I could have gotten in my car, as it was one of the few in Uniontown that wasn’t submerged. And I could have driven out of the city, as an escape route was still possible. But, I was afraid to go home because I didn’t know what I would find.
Just hours before, as we were scrambling to get out the door, the 5-year-old was hunting her shoes. She yelled for me to come quickly. There she stood in the middle of the living room.
“I hear something,” she said.
“That’s just the wind and rain pounding away. Now, hurry up.”
“No. You have to be berry, berry quiet and listen,” she said.
And then I heard it. Ping, blip, ping, blip.
“Oh, that’s probably just water coming down the fireplace,” I said, stooping to look. Nothing there. But as I stood, a drop splattered on my head. So I did what anyone in that situation would do. I put a bath towel on the mantle, made a phone call, then left.
I was wondering during the day, as rain continued to darken the day and swell the creeks, exactly how wet can plaster get before the ceiling caves in. And how well has my borough corrected its storm water problems to keep it from backing up into the basement.
I really didn’t want to go home and find I didn’t like the answers. I didn’t want water where it shouldn’t be. I wanted it where it should be found. Like in my kitchen sink. But, I knew that wasn’t going to happen either as the cold-water handle on the faucet snapped. The water was shut off Tuesday. I’ve got so many plumbing problems going on right now that you can get only hot water from the kitchen sink, and just cold water from one bathroom sink, and you can get a steady stream of water from a tub. All of it, I’m told, needs replaced.
I’d take some solace in the advice that “Hey, lady you replace this now and you won’t have to worry about it again,” if only it were true. I thought the same three years ago when I paid $91.64 for a new kitchen faucet, that I’m sure came with a lifetime guarantee, if only I could find it.
Right now, I’m in a constant state of replacement. Everything around me is being renewed and replenished, except for my wallet. Most days this stuff doesn’t bother me. You’ve got to expect that sometime during the day you’re going to walk into a store, buy something and drive away without your purchase. You’re umbrella is going to be in the office when you’re in the car or in the car when you’re in the office. It’s bound to rain if your hair finally looks decent.
You just know if there’s a windstorm blowing branches all over the place, your car is going to wear a sign that says “Here I am. Come on, just smack me a good one.” Or, the car’s undercarriage will turn into a giant vacuum cleaner sucking branches off the highway and jamming them between metal pieces. And you know that even if you pull over onto the side of the road and lie in the mud, your arms are going to be just this short to reach under there and yank it out.
You know something is going to happen to throw you off balance, sour your mood and have you longing for the safe haven of your bed.
What you don’t know are those other things. You don’t know that you’ll be picking up blankets tossed on the floor, wondering how you could possibly raise such slobs, when you lift one and find a child curled up asleep under the coffee table. You don’t expect that you would be tempted to stretch out next to her so that you don’t miss a thing once she wakes. Because if you do, you’ll miss those other things about the day, the pronouncement that if chicken feathers fall on you, you will get the chicken pox or that Christopher Robbins was such a smart guy for figuring out the world was round.
It’s those other things, those things you don’t expect, that restore the balance. You just have to be berry, berry quiet and listen.
Luanne Traud is the Herald-Standard’s editorial page editor. E-mail: ltraud@heraldstandard.com.