Space Invaders!

Dear Reader,

When one has lived in one’s abode for as long as I have in mine, it’s sometimes extremely difficult to have people in to work on the place. This has led to my learning many repair skills, including electrical wiring, some plumbing, etc. But some things are just beyond me, for whatever reason.

In the immediate case, the ceiling in the main room of my studio desperately needed painting. I knew I simply would not be able to accomplish this job, (I’d done it before, but these days I’m just stretched too thin) so I scheduled with my building management to have the painters come in on October 30. Unfortunately, that day came in the midst of an incredible confluence of events that didn’t stop until the end of the day on the 31st. Actually, the after-effects haven’t stopped yet.

Ten days earlier, the man I had been trying to see dumped me for the second time; this really set me back. Then, on the 26th, my terminally ill cat, Winky, died, which, though not a surprise, broke my heart further. On Sunday, the 29th, the day before the painters were to arrive, the men of my chorus, plus a cast of additional hundreds, had a major performance. In addition to being there to support “our boys,” I also had to prepare and distribute the payroll for the many professional singers we hired for this gig. So, I had to go to the concert hall at the same time as the guys did for their dress rehearsal (early, for me on a Sunday!), plus show up trying to look great in the process. I got home in the early evening Sunday, too tired to do much to prepare for the advent of the painters the next day. Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t go to sleep; too stressed from all of the previously mentioned events.

I didn’t get to sleep until around 4 AM; I had moved a couple of things, but not much. Just to make it clear; my apartment is a studio; one room, separate kitchen, bathroom (thank heaven!), and a decent-sized hallway all of which are pretty much filled to capacity. In my defense, my “piles” were organized, so I actually knew where everything was. “Knew,” being the operative word.

The painters arrived promptly at 8:30 AM, and the front desk person held off buzzing me until 8:40. I asked her to hold them down there for a few minutes, and tried to get dressed and begin clearing out a few piles. But to where? Well, onto the couch, onto the bed, into the bathtub; anywhere there was some space. The painters came up, and helped me in my efforts to clear space. I didn’t pay any attention to where particular blocs of materials were being placed or thrown; I just wanted to get the stuff out of the way so they could get started. What a revelation! So much stuff; so little space! We managed to clear away enough so that the two-man crew could get to work; first it was hanging drop cloths over the entire room, then taping and scraping. Then it was plastering, and the end of Day 1. After they left, I tried to assess the situation, but it was, frankly, simply too overwhelming.

I was really happy with the two men who did the work, though. Pablo was from Chile; he spoke Spanish with that Castilian “lithp,” and hummed and whistled music that I was very familiar with: Bach, Brahms, even Beethoven. I asked him about it, and it turned out he is a tenor in his church’s choir, in which he sings with his wife! He was impressed that I was able to identify the selections he hummed; I was happy to have a musician in my apartment. The other man, Jose, didn’t speak much English, but was very kind and helpful, and both guys seemed to be understanding of the situation in my place. I apologized repeatedly for the difficult working conditions, and their responses were gracious and helped me to not feel so bad.

The second day, Hallowe’en, was the actual painting day. On that same day, I had to get to a client downtown (I had taken the day before off), and then run up to the church where my chorus rehearses and get the place set up for a party, and get into my Hallowe’en costume. I managed to pull it off, somehow, without being too late or looking too disheveled. But, with all of the running, I had no time to try and get my apartment back to “normal,” whatever that means. I still haven’t been able to accomplish that; just too much stuff to try and realign. So, I’m just trying to clear out, but that’s almost more difficult, though refreshing.

In the meantime, my two remaining cats dealt with the situation in each one’s unique way. Big Guy was a perfect gentleman; he stayed out and watched as the work progressed, and even interacted with the painters some. Kootie not only hid under the bed the entire time, but found a small box into which she crammed her large self head first. It took her three days to finally come out, although she did come out to use the box while I was sleeping. The poor thing was completely traumatized, however. She still runs and hides when she hears someone out in the hallway. I’m proud of both of them, though. Given that this upheaval happened so soon after their compatriot, Winky, died, they both have come through it very well, and are adapting to the reconfiguration of the stacks, piles and groupings in my apartment. Being cats, they have the physical flexibility to do so, and they’ve demonstrated their emotional flexibility as well. I wish I could adapt to change as well as they have!

More to come,
Catbird