Washer doesn't work. Another item on the to-do list, another dollar sign to add to the array floating around in my head and teasing my ulcer. And I just shelled out $575 for a GE Profile fridge—— yeah I know, good price! I guess this is buyer's remorse. Every new homeowner gets it. It's not my first rodeo, I know it will subside. As soon as I get internet and hot water I'll be cruisin'.
Yep. Buyers remorse, for sure. Tommie's car sits out in front, mocking me. If cars could chuckle it would. It would snark that driveway is mine—who are you to just move in and take over! It beams a reflection of the western sun in my eyes.
Still no internet. God damn AT&T to hell. No, my bad! For making my entire life and welfare revolve around a network of data exchange. For this I suffer ulcerative colitis and a permanent crease between my brows.
I can only say that the medicine cabinet was far above other household spectacles on the barf scale. I gingerly removed it and took it to the curb, only to find later it was a non-standard size. So now when I wash my face I look at a 14' x 19" hole in the wall.
For the last week, I have spent the wee hours listening. Supine, open-eyed listening. Some sounds are no-brainers: the soft snap of 70-year-old framing as it settles, the hilarious raucous battle for cat territory. Others are pure Tommie. Her clock in the kitchen actually ticks. Some sounds are just plain maddening, like the leaky toilet or the drip of the bathroom sink. No sound of burglars or killers. Max says to me, "Mom they don't murder you down here, they just steal stuff off your porch." OK I get that. I've had stuff stolen off my porch, even in Dunwoody. So OK I get that.
Attic; no sound. Basement; no sound. Side walls; no sound. NO SOUND. For years I had to iisten to the sound of the Satanette in the condo next door. Every morning I heard her enter the shower, turn on the water, drop the soap. I could tell when she washed her hair by the change in splash tone. I could tell when she left the house; a barely perceptible vibration of walls. Preceded by a clomp clomp clomp down stairs of wood. The fat cow.