Susan Senator

Fixing a hole, where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go
–Beatles

There is definitely a certain satisfaction with taking care of business. I frequently have four- or five- item lists on my kitchen blackboard (gloriously encased in a gilded frame; there should be nothing ugly or purely utilitarian in my kitchen. No plastic papertowel dispenser (it is black wrought-iron), no moldy rubber dishrack, (black wrought-iron again) no ugly pots and pans out, only French blue, yellow, or stainless. No tattered, mismatched dishrags. Hide that crap! Drawers are for ugly.)

The list this week contains these items: electrician, drain guy, plumber, AC ducts. I did two out of the four (the first two). The electrician rewired Max’s room now that he has so much technology in there. And the drain guy took a video of our sewer pipe (sounds like a contender for an Oscar, don’t it? Could call it “Roots,” because there are 11 places in the 35 feet of outdoor sewer pipe that have trees snaking through them. Or perhaps, “Broke-bank Mountain” because this is going to be thousands and thousands of dollars. Or “Sure-Stank Redemption,” which ends with a trip through a sewer pipe (thank you, Max!) I’m open to other (funny) suggestions.) Ned is totally rolling his eyes over these stupid puns, but I am cracking myself up!

But I am so happy to have done that nudgework! In college I learned about pacing myself, and having faith that I would get to all my work, I didn’t have to do it all at once. And that is what happened. Bit by bit, the list gets checked off. If I can’t do it today, I don’t worry. I will do it tomorrow.

So why can’t I apply that same mentality to my relationships? Why do I have so little faith in the ebb and flow of relationships, which have their great moments and then their periods of regrouping and struggle. Unlike how I felt at Penn, with my lists and lists of things to read and papers to write, I have so much trouble pushing my psyche past whatever is the current knot of feelings — not unlike our house waste pipe.