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By tomorrow we will be sleeping in our bed. Furniture will be roughly situated. Painting, prints and photos to be assigned their places. Some physical semblance of order will take shape. Internally there is no real order now as the rhythm of writing and thinking has been jarred loose from its moorings. All is repairable. […]

While I blog the handyman is renovating the upstairs closet. He will then move on to another closet and install shelving to house Jane’s many books and finally caulk the backsplash in the kitchen. And so it goes. We will be asking him to give us a bid on tiling the outside balcony deck which is spongy. Isn’t […]

The painter is back (a young kid, really) for he did a shit-poor job the first time; the second call back is for carpeting which was defective throughout the house. The carpet man shared over the cell that he was in his “help mode” and I retorted that I am in my “victim mode.” I […]

I hear the tiler on the second floor, Miguel from Colombia, doing his thing while his non-speaking apprentice cuts through tile on the outside lawn with a shrieker machine, annoying, I am sure, to the unknown neighbors. The neighbor to our left is a psychiatrist and his wife, a nurse; he works at a local […]