Adventures of an Old Man

Originally Posted Wednesday, May 1, 2013

I still have no hot water, no gas.  They could turn it on tomorrow, the woman on the telephone said, somewhere between eight o'clock and four-thirty.  But they had no morning appointments.  We argued about the logic for awhile. 

"So you can only come in the afternoon."

"Any time between eight and four-thirty," she said. 

"But you have no morning appointments."

"That's right."

"So you will not be able to come until the afternoon."

"Sir, the only appointments I have are from twelve-thirty to four-thirty or all day from eight until four-thirty."

"But you can't come in the morning?"

There is something very malicious about the people hired to handle calls at utility companies.  Evil dumb malice. 

I spent the rest of the morning going through the big pile of mail on the floor and paying my bills.  Most of them, I think.  I believe I'm being cheated, though.  It seems as if I pay two months worth of cable bills and then in a couple weeks they are charging me for another two months plus late fees.  I need an assistant. 

After a busy day at the factory, I went to the gym. . . uninspired.  I looked it, too.  I had shrunk.  I looked deflated, like someone who decided to start going to the gym late in life.  Fortunately, there were no pretty girls there.  Wednesdays, apparently, only old people go to the gym. 

Remembering that I could not cook on the stove, I bought things at Whole Foods that would work in the microwave.  Amy's Cheddar and Broccoli Bowl.  A can of organic chicken to stir in.  Some frozen organic edamame.  Ooo, and a tuna and avocado sushi roll. 

I was exhausted.  After eating the sushi and checking on the internet to find plain athletic t-shirts and khaki pants (I can't stand to go shopping any more), I heated some edamame.  I knew that would be all for the night.  I was just too tired to do any more. 

But I got a call from my mother's security company.  The alarm had gone off at her house.  It was raining.  There had been big, rumbling thunder and streaks of incredible lightning.  Shit. I would have to go over. 

"The police are on their way," said the operator.  "How long will it take you to get there." 

"Ten minutes," I said. 

So quickly I put on my pants and poured a scotch for the ride.  You can't be too careful when dealing with the police. 

I got there before them.  Or him.  A skinny twenty-something came up the driveway a few minutes after I arrived. 

"It looks O.K. in the front," I told him. 

"Do you have a key to the house?"

"Yes, but I don't know the security code.  My mother told me where it was, but I can't remember.  Can they just turn off the alarm from the security office?"

"Do you have their number?"

I didn't have anything.  I didn't pay attention when my mother was going through step by step what I should do if the alarm went off.  Nobody had come through the front of the house.  I wanted to check the back, but a seven foot wooden fence with a combination lock securing the gate kept me from it.  My mother had told me the combination to the lock, too.  Whatever.  I thought to climb over.  This was risky in flip flops in the rain with a scotch glass in my hand.  O.K.  I'd left the scotch in the car, but the fence was really rickety.  I put my foot on the tiny support beam and pulled myself up to look over into the back yard, but I couldn't see anything but the back fence.  The young policeman shined his light on the fence so I could see, or, perhaps, so he could get a better view of me busting myself up good when I fell.  The other side was a long drop.  I didn't feel like breaking my back and knees, and there was every chance that my flip flop would slip and I would have an even worse fall. 

I stepped back to earth, turned to the cop and said, "I've gotten too old.  I don't want to do it.  I'll go home, call the security company, and come back in the morning." 

This was O.K. with him.  He had to get some paperwork in the car.  I stood under an eave out of the rain.  But I was thinking.  Really?  Was I not going to go over the fence?  Had I gotten that infirm and aged?  I was pissed off and ashamed. 

Just then, I turned to the kitchen window.  A light was on.  Had that been on the whole time?  I didn't think so.  When the policeman came back, I said, "I don't remember that light being on.  I'm going over the fence after all." 

Fuck it.  Step, pull, brace, reach over, find something, a hold of any kind, stretch a leg. . . oww. . . and then I was over.  I guessed I'd yell out if I confronted armed robbers.  The lights in the living room were on now, too, but I checked the back of the house and there had been no entry.  She must have her lights on timers, I thought.  There was no way anyone had gotten into the house without a key.  I worried that getting back over the fence would be more difficult in reverse.  I thought about the embarrassment if I couldn't do it, if I were asking the policeman to shoot the lock off the gate.  But adrenaline kicked in, and I was young again. . . except for the last reach when I tore a bit of something in my left pectoral muscle.  But I didn't give any of that away. 

"It is all tight back there.  There hasn't been any forced entry."  Why was I talking like a t.v. cop, I wondered? 

And with that, we were finished.  I watched him walk back to his car, then I got into mine and wondered if I could take a drink. 

I felt good, an adventurer again, a man who braves the rain and dangerously slimy boards, who climbs into backyards unafraid to face armed gunman.  I felt the tweak in my muscle.  I was good. 

"I'll need to start doing more of that," I thought.  "It will keep me young." 

This morning, though, I woke too early and didn't feel young.  I have a lot ahead of me at the factory.  The gas company will call me half an hour before they come to turn the gas back on.  I will have to call a neighbor to let the worker into the house.  The sod didn't come yesterday.  Perhaps today.  So many worries.  And I'm pretty certain that climbing the fence won't make this a better day.