Thursday, September 7, 2017
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.
Posted by cafe selavy at 8:32 AM
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