Saturday, May 24, 2008

Water Falls


When I got up this morning, I immediately knocked over a poorly sealed water bottle, a glass half filled with juice left from the night before, and my full coffee cup, which split in two. Two clean halves. Such a sodden fumble and what a way to start the day.

Yesterday was horrible for me. I couldn’t stop crying. Another wet mess. It was one of those anniversary days we mark off in our head, and I cried over my disappointments in how my life had changed: the things I had desired… and what I never got in return. It was a very difficult day, and my foolishness left me with a splitting headache that I’m still carrying around.

The funny part of all of this, (if there can be a funny part,) is that last night while I was sobbing, I was still wrapping sold Amazon items and sending out emails to people and talking to friends online giving opinions on curtain fabric choices and being productive. “Sure I’m miserable, but go with #1.” Also, my manicurist had said in passing last week that she had been thinking about opening her own shop some day, but she didn’t know what it would entail and could I help her by finding some “building a business” information? I remembered last night, so all of that was printed out and ready for her today. Will it happen for her? I don’t know, but as I told her, “I would never dissuade anyone from their dreams or hopes for the future.”

I opted for a manicure color I would normally never wear, a layered thing of a pale gold covered by a silver, giving the whole thing a shimmery effect. Mermaid fingers. Everyone loved it. So I’m sitting there drying, spa is humming with activity, and the lady across from me cries out. Her pedicure bowl is overflowing and won’t shut off. The pedicure chairs are high end and called The Murano Chair (the bowl being Murano glass.) They sell for $12,000. They do everything but pay your bills. She just sat there, complaining, so I said, “You’re getting the full spa experience.” Everyone laughed.



I got up and joined a few of the manicurists who were throwing towels down on the floor. They had unplugged the chair, but the water kept coming out. The eldest manicurist (and most level headed), Cheryl, said, “There’s a manual switch under the chair that overrides this.” Two people got down trying to find it, but by now there was a deep pool of water all over the place. Without thinking, I hiked up my pants, got on my knees and started feeling under the chair, asking Cheryl what I should be feeling for. I finally found the lever and pulled it toward me, and the flow stopped. I went and got a glass and started bailing out the bowl while this fool woman continued to sit in the chair saying, “Where are my shoes? I don’t want to get my feet wet.” It's moments like this where you think, "You can't make this stuff up."
Once during a hurricane our old neighborhood flooded out. Everyone’s basement was ceiling high in water. My father went and got fire trucks and led a team to pump out house after house. He was the neighborhood hero. He then followed through by going back to those houses to work out sump pump issues to make sure it would never happen again. I never forgot that. His immediate "take action and fix it" behavior. But he was always doing things like that.




As I left I said to Cheryl, with a meaningful look, “Have a good work week,” and she laughed and shook her head. One pragmatic woman to another. When I was leaving the spa, the front desk people thanked me profusely. Manicure dinged, of course. All in a day’s work for bicycle repairman.

This afternoon I took a nap, trying to recover from these past few days, and when I got up and sat on the edge of my bed, the first thought that popped into my head was, “That was your father. What you did today was your father.” My father was one of those men who never hesitated to jump into the fray. He was one of those rare men who could build or fix anything: carpentry, plumbing, electricity, air conditioning, car motors. Dig a hole to build a swimming pool? Sure. Build a church camp? Sure. I’ve always thought that all of my own mechanical skills and comprehension and ease with machinery and technologies came from him, but my thinking “That was your father” comes with a price. A heavy, sad price. Things I won’t even go into here. Things that I carry around. Things I don’t think will ever go away. But yes, that was my father.

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14 Comments:

Blogger d. chedwick said...

Oh Washington Cube, I wish we could meet and share our wet feet and dinged enamel. and say "the funny part of all this is..." funny weird or funny ha ha? ( uh...both? )


Today i opted to stay at home getting plotting how I will finish projects...while everyone went off to the Mtns. I plan to go up on my own on Monday... anyway, being alone meant more reading, blogging, lounging outside, and wearing Gucci II on my left hand, Apparition on my right, and Lavanila stuff all over. Two scents more than I normally would ever wear, It was good though. yesterday was one of those days for me--I went to the acupuncturist --forgetting my wallet-- they were fine about it, and all relaxed, leaving the place, I was driving down the Main Street in the town. this idiot backed out of a side street at full speed right in front of me--I Had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting her which I did by a hair. things in my car all flew forward,(books, my handbag) I was in shock--who backs out of a side street at full speed??? Now she was in front of me...we progressed down the road, and I kept a safe distance between us. As I began to relax again she suddenly slammed on her brakes and backed up! (to get into a parking spot she'd passed by) Again I had to screech to a shuddering halt -- The NJ tags on her car angered me too-- if you can't drive please stay in your own state where they were stupid enough to issue you a license. Crap! My total relaxation from the acupuncture was shattered and I still had to drive all the way home in rush hour Mem. day weekend crazy traffic. When I got home I felt bad and my neck had stiffened up to worse than ever. and I had a splitting headache. If I had hit her, I would have had to deal with the fuzz, possible injuries, my car getting crunched, her freaking weirdness (God only knows what she would be like to deal with (meth -head ho? ) and so forth. i was glad I had good reflexes, thankful I had avoided an accident. but upset that it had gotten me physically shook up . I couldn't stop feeling bad physically and it became a shitty mood too. probably the main reason I stayed at home today.

well tomorrow is another day, right Scarlett? yeah .

10:16 PM  
Blogger d. chedwick said...

Oh and PS ...since I had forgotten my wallet, if I had had to meet the Fuzz, I would have no driver's license on me. what fun that would have been.

10:21 PM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

As a child (East Coast) I had a theory...seriously..a child with theories...that every day of my life I would see a New Jersey license plate. It sure seemed that way to me! I tested some of the Jo Malone Lime Basil Madarin tonight. Eh. It's ending on a very Issey Miyake note (something I wore when it first came out, by the way...loved the bottle...but gave away to a co-worker before I finished it.) I usually buy my manicurist perfume for Christmas (and either a bottle of vodka/champagne). Two years ago she wanted Miss Dior Cherie. This year she wanted Tom Ford's Black Orchid after smelling it on me. Today she mentioned a sample I had given her last fall...she thought she would want to wear it for summer: L Lolita Lempicka. I'm trying to remember it, but I think it's pleasant enough. I need a new summer scent. As for projects...I've got a zillion of 'em.

10:47 PM  
Blogger dennis said...

Dennis has no projects. He just feels....sigh. going thru something--a transitional thing. Lost his edge or something.

12:46 AM  
Blogger All Things Bright and Beautiful... said...

Oh Cube, I am sad to hear that you are sad - you are not yourself in this post. But you are in a way too - that you can find something funny to say out of all this and ou can even say something to say at all out of this!

See, your Pa lives on ... in you :-)

9:45 AM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

Dennis: Invent a way for kitties to clean their own pan and put it in the outdoor garbage. There was a perfume, years ago, that came in a black cat bottle wasn't there? I found it on eBay (of course.) Max Factor's Hypnotique and another called Electrique.

B&B: I'll be ok. Some days all of that stuff hits you at once. It's been a rough few weeks.

11:50 AM  
Blogger Phil said...

This morning I went by my parents to find my mom yelling at my dad, in a bewildered fog, for something he was either taking out/putting into the mailbox he wasn't supposed to.

"that'll be me someday," I thought.

10:58 AM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

I always thought I'd have my parents for those senior moments, Phil. Given our family longevity and history, it should have been that way. All I can say is "enjoy them." I try to be patient with friends who complain to me about their parents, knowing my relationship with mine wasn't perfect...no one's is...so I fight the impulse to preach to them "at least you have parents." I'm about to blog about a friend's experiences in the next day or so. During that time I made dinner for her mother, and it felt good to cook for her and fix her plate.

4:47 PM  
Blogger Hammer said...

Thanks, Cube. This one hit close to home for me for multiple reasons still best kept to myself (although I assure you none of them involve manicures.) Consider yourself the recipient of the biggest head noogie ever administered in human history.

9:12 PM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

Hammer: Head noogies are good.

7:09 PM  
Blogger d. chedwick said...

I always felt tenderly towards my parents because they had it so rough, and my older siblings gave them such a hard time-- later my siblings would accuse me of being the favorite child--but I definitely wasn't , I just listened to them more, and spent more time with them, did what they asked of me. I never thought duty was a bad word, esp with parents who sacrifice for their kids. I know a lot of women who had a bunch of kids in the 40's and 50's and early 60's really couldn't handle the number they had (6 in my mom's case.) So parents who tried to do their best should be cut a lot of slack --I can't imagine having 6 kids and raising them all perfectly, doing everything just so. My mother was like superwoman to raise 6 kids because she was not cut out for the job, she made herself do her best.

9:08 PM  
Blogger d. chedwick said...

ps--she made us laugh, too.

9:10 PM  
Blogger Phil said...

It's getting dusty in here...stinging my eyes, that's all.

Think I'll give my momma a call.

1:04 PM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

Call your Momma, Phil. Phil's infamous Momma. Creator of "The Google."

5:43 PM  

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