Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Yet another household incident! When Paul tosses his bag of dirty laundry down the stairs, the drawstring snags on the thermostat and yanks it out of the wall. We fiddle around with it uselessly, discovering only that when the wires are attached the furnace won't turn off, and when they aren't attached we have no heat. At this juncture, "no heat" seems like the better choice, though not a long-term solution. I am overwrought: yet another burden for Tom, spending money, blah, blah, blah. But he needs to know, so Paul texts him . . . and Tom, of course, because he is our household god, responds calmly, assures Paul that replacing a thermostat is no big deal, buys a new one after work (it costs $20), and installs it before dinner.

I tell you: that man is golden.

Yesterday Paul and I cleaned the house and I endured the grocery stores, so today, with those chores out the way, I'll get back to my desk work. I'd like to think I'll find a chance to write, but I doubt it. Maybe I can pretend that reading Proust is some kind of substitute. My lack of private space is wearing on me. I can't even teach Zoom classes at a desk; I sit on a couch in the den, with my papers and books spread all over the cushions, because that's the available room with a door. Teaching from bed is my only other option.

Ugh. What's come over me? I am going to stop complaining right now. I mean: I have a thermostat! And a brand-new 220 outlet for my stove! And Paul and I have invented a new word, glube, which we define as a combination of glue and lubricant, a terrible substance, the exactly wrong solution for every problem.


Carlene Gadapee said...

Ye gods, your electrical saga continues.
And glube reminds me of mucilage, an equally nasty substance, with an equally noxious-unctuous texture and name.

Hang in there.
And I think you could do Zoomers from your lovely dining room with the bookcases. Just keep a wooden spoon beside you to wave threateningly at intruders...LOL

nancy said...

I think that Covid has engendered a contradictory need: a need to be with people (but to REALLY be with them -- to hug, to dance, to laugh without restraint), as well as a need to be alone in silence (with a door).

Dawn Potter said...

No doors to close in the dining room. Also, it's our only eating table; we can't fit one in the kitchen. So unfortunately, it's not a Zoom possibility unless I'm the only person in the house . . . which I never am. Also, the electrical system hasn't yet been updated in there, so it can't support electronics. Someday Godot will arrive with his wires and sockets, but we are still waiting.

Carlene Gadapee said...

What a super name for an electrician. =)

Joy said...

Dawn, I don't usually advertise this, but I do Zoom from my bed. Yes, when I've got the bookcases behind me, that's my office with the terrible light. But except for when I must Zoom in the morning, I Zoom from my bed (also I do all my editing on the bed). I put my laptop on bed/lapdesk and go to! My excuse for this, if I need one, is because I need to keep my back happy while I work and Zoom and that's easier with my bed than any chair I own, including my office chair. All this to say, don't discount the possibility of Zooming from the bed. A room with a door. Comfy. A big space on which to lay out papers and books. Just think of it as really getting into the Proustian spirit.