There are days, nay, periods in one's life that a certain sort of somnambulism is the predominant modality of one's supposedly conscious activities. Sleep deprivation, the galloping atmospherics of the Christmas season and the intrusions of repairmen and other necessary disturbances of the comfort of the routine of this old semi-grouch, can and did result in a couple of incidents, neither one earth shattering or cataclysmic to any truly appreciable degree, but jolting nonetheless and not without a bit of comic relief and release due to the consequences of panicky conclusion- jumping of an over-compensating race to re-establish alertness. In the first instance, a recent series of visits by a friend's unlicensed plumber to my home approached a kind of climax when I asserted (despite the bargain prices) that completion of the job (an increasingly leaky pipe underneath our kitchen sink) needed to be effected on this particular day. It's wearying to observe, after more than an hour or so, the earnest efforts of an improvising gent, even one who clearly knows far more than I ever will about the art and science of improving and securing the safe flow of water within the confines of the system of my house. While he is expending energy and making course corrections that surprise and even delight himself, my chief task is to be patient, to wait and to stifle a gnawing fear that he may not be up to the task or worse, that he may commit a disastrous, irrevocable act. My hospitality and good cheer mustn't waver and it's a tiring experience. Part of the package "deal" of this quasi-amateur's unspoken set of rules for his service is the requirement that I provide a basic tool, here or there when needed. A flashlight, a three-prong adaptor or some such common item represent no great demands of this customer, but the need to purchase other essential parts at my local Home Depot, in turn, necessitating the use of my chauffeuring skills due to the demanding parking conditions of my neighborhood (he could not likely re-park his truck without great difficulty) resulted in a brief but urgently experienced journey that found me pressured, rushed and overly eager to return home. We did and the task was finally completed. Soon after he left I searched for my car keys. They were not to be found.
My afore-mentioned condition, that of resembling one in a semi-comatose state, caused alarm as I wracked my brain to reconstruct my actions after leaving the car to enter my house again with my plumber in tow and several bags of parts carried by both of us. ….To Be Continued
