Mr. DW

MY DEAR FABULOUS DAUGHTER,

The leak in the roof is finally fixed (remember the drips from the ceiling onto the dinner plates last Christmas Eve?). Many attempts by roofers from various companies failed again and again, but we're certain after all the recent storms and rains that the leak is finally fixed (touch wood). Repairs to the gaping 4' x 10' hole in the ceiling were finally begun yesterday. Oh happy day, thought I, the house will look so much fresher with that nasty spider-and-woodbug-dropping-11-month-old hole gone forever (touch wood again). However, my momentary feelings of joy were quickly dashed when the dry wall fellow (hereafter referred to as Mr. DW) replaced our 60 watt lightbulb with a 300 watt flaw-seeking bulb of his own.

Now the good news is that this incredibly bright light assisted Mr. DW in seeing the two unsprung rat traps the pest control people had put in the ceiling many long months ago in search of a culprit responsible for the leak. The bad news was that a very angry Mr. DW stood upon a ladder, glaring ferociously at me (as did his trusty assistant at the bottom of the ladder) and his voice became very loud. He demanded to know who had put those traps up there and did I realize he had to reach around up there to rearrange insulation and could have lost a few fingers and been out of a job! Oh no, oh my, oh dear, oh how awful! I exclaimed, truly horrified; as you know, I think in pictures and immediately into my head popped the image of Mr. DW dancing around the house in agony, splattering blood from his once deft but now fingerless hand over walls, artwork, and the ceiling (still not repaired due to this terrible incident). I apologized profusely, and in a desperate search for some way to redirect away from me the incredibly bad chi in the room, I dragged your dear father's name into it. I told Mr. DW that both your father and I had completely forgotten about the traps as they'd been set by someone else 8 long months previous. He harrumphed and muttered about law suits and how people were going to hear about this, then he resumed work on the nasty hole.

I hung my head in something akin to shame, crept into the kitchen and closed the double doors behind me. In silence I heated a bowl of store-bought vegetable soup from a tiny Tetrapak and as I stood over the stove and stirred I decided that there was a silver lining to this cloud: the fact that the traps had sat unsprung for nearly three quarters of a year could only mean there were no vermin in the ceiling. Oh happy day, thought I as I sat at the table to enjoy my soup. My momentary feelings of consolation were once again dashed and I froze with spoon held to lips in the silent kitchen when the sound of Mr. DW's still angry voice crawled under the doors. Now I suppose he may not have realized that sound carries rather well along our lovely slate floors, however, given the circumstances it's more than possible he wanted me to hear him say, My God, this woman has to wake up to the fact that her house is full of dust bunnies and spider webs. Apparently Mr. DW's flaw-seeking 300 watt bulb had uncovered the flaws in my housekeeping talents.

I decided not to let Mr. DW's negative chi-inducing attitude affect me, instead I finished my little bowl of soup and opened the kitchen door. Would either of you like a cup of tea? I asked, in a conciliatory gesture. No thank you was the reply from both Mr. DW and his assistant. Not only didn't they want tea, but they weren't yet ready for my placating kindness - Mr. DW asked, That vegetable soup you was cookin'? Ah-ha-ha-ha I replied feeling unreasonably guilty for not serving the two men lunch, yes it was. Vegetable's my favourite, said Mr. DW with much emphasis on the word 'favourite'. Mine too, said his assistant, especially when it's home made. The good news was that I explained to them that it was store bought and from a tiny little single-serving package; this was also the bad news because it sounded pitiful - like a weak excuse for gluttony even to my own ears.

The two fellows soon finished their work for the day and will return tomorrow to finish preparations for painting. The good news is that the nasty hole and the angry Mr. DW will soon be a distant memory. More good news is that as I swept away cobwebs all over the house this morning with a broom handle wrapped with an old T-shirt encased in pantyhose (as my Grandmother Wilda had taught me) I was proud of myself for not allowing Mr. DW to get to me. Yes siree I thought, as I moved heavy furniture and the washer and dryer to better sweep up dust bunnies and spiders living and dead, the best way to deal with negativity is to ignore it. As I scoured toilets, tubs & sinks throughout the house I assured myself that I would never accept harsh criticism from someone with a 300 watt flaw-seeking lightbulb and bad attitude. Even as I used Q-Tips and toothpicks to scrub around the cracks between faucets and counter tops, I was secure in the knowledge that, truly, negative comments have little or no effect on me. I was feeling extremely good about my unflinching strength of character, and after this spontaneous bout of housecleaning I couldn't help but smile at all the gleaming surfaces surrounding me.

Mr. DW is going to sand the newly mudded ceiling tomorrow - I wonder if that will produce much dust.

Have a good day at work darling.

LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER