Catastrophic Convergence

Timing, it is said, is everything. How true.

We have finally admitted that neither Joan nor I (nor even Katie or particularly Coby) have a gift for domesticity. We're pretty good at some things. Providing ballast for a sofa, when we had a sofa. Maintaining eye contact with various types of graphical displays. Creating tasks for the dishwashers (both manual and automatic). It is the potential health hazards--stirring up dust we swear we didn't create, fighting Coby's penchant for bringing the outside inside and depositing it on the kitchen floor, and of course the windows--that we zealously eschew.

Today we took matters in our own hands and quickly put them in the hands of others. The Busy Broom, nice folks headed by a personable young entrepreneur named Tom, came on the scene.

Have I ever talked to you about the water in western Howard County? The old timers out here pronounce it H'ard Canty and H'ard pretty much describes the water, too. Folks out here are on wells. Lots and lots of wells sucking the life out of whatever aquifer serves this bit of the Chesapeake watershed. Because this was, and in a perfect world still would be, farmland, there is some stuff in the soil that doesn't occur naturally. Thank you DuPont, Monsanto, and a plethora of others. This has created a wonderful niche for the likes of Culligan, Deer Park, and Water Doctor. The H20 Doctor is our service of choice. They have a tall thin tank in our utility closet. Each year they come out, backwash the tank, turn off the water, turn on the water, collect a check and leave.

This year the Water Doctor and the Busy Broom were in perfect alignment. A nearsighted astrologer will probably tell you there is weighty significance to that. All I'm telling you is that people coming in to remove signs of domestic neglect get serious heart palpitations when they learn they are going to do so without water. Have you ever seen a cat clean itself? That's about the only option they had left. Tom, on top of things but still unsure the other shoe was not already descending, asked me, "We're not going to lose the electricity too, are we?" Thankfully, no.

When life sucks, vacuum. And so they did. The Water Doctor pronounced his patient in fine mettle for another year, presented his bill, and went his merry way. The Busy Broom people had exactly what they needed now to wash this place down. They came, they saw, they mopped, wiped and squeegeed. Now it is quiet, except for Nat King Cole's smooth voice coming out of the speakers. The house smells clean, looks cleaner, and it turns out we are not so slovenly that they are unwilling to return in two weeks. This is alright.

Now, it's back to work. Really. It's a busy time and I must go in to create some more stunning prose that will earn us a new contract. I have no degree, but I'm still armed with my B.S., you know what I'm sayin'? Be well.