A Momentary Respite

I'm breathing just a bit easier.  Mr. Tree came yesterday.  I asked how long the tree trimming would take, and he said five hours or so.  I said that I guessed that I would just take the day off from work, but he said not to.  He knew what I wanted, he said.  I thought about it.  What would I do if I stayed home?  Tell them how to do the job?  I couldn't go out and bully them.  They were all tougher than I. They would knock me out or just laugh at me, and neither scenario appealed to my sensibilities.  So I decided to go to work.

I was anxious all day because the work they were doing was dangerous and something might go wrong.  I imagined big limbs crashing into my roof, just the thing I was hiring them to avoid.  I stayed at work longer than usual.  I had work that needed doing, but I was in no hurry to be miserable or disappointed if things had not gone as I wished.  After work, I went to the photo store to get batteries.  The traffic was horrible, the roads crowded with people buying supplies after work.  On my way home, I stopped at the Chicken Licken' to get some dinner as Ili was having dinner with her parents that night.

When I pulled into the driveway, I saw the Mr. Tree's truck.  The owner was walking around the yard picking up little bits of debris.

"Did you wait to get paid?" I joked.

"No, sir. . . ."

It had taken longer than five hours.  He took me around the yard to have a look.  On the ground, there was no evidence they had been there.  In the trees, everything had been done just as we had discussed.  I felt better and even grateful.  But, I wondered, had I made a mistake?  Should I have had the entire tree next to my house taken down?

That night, the projected paths shifted to the east a bit.  Maybe. . . just maybe. . . .

When I talk to people, there are two reactions to the potential storm depending upon whether or not you own a house and upon what drugs you are taking.  For renters, this is just adventure.  For those with prescriptions to help fight anxiety and depression, there is a general sense of ease and a belief that things won't be that bad.  For the rest of us. . . well, not everyone worries the way I do.

I watched some YouTube videos on Vivian Maier last night.  Jesus Christ, I love the story.  I love the work.  As I've said before, I used to correspond with John Maloof right after he discovered the boxes full of her work.  I wish I'd done more.

Here's a picture Ili took of the dining room table one day when I was printing out proof pics of some NYC street scenes.  Makes me look like a real artist.