February 14, 2013

The mason comes to day to jimmy the back stoop up to the standards of the insurance company. I phone to steer the cleaning ladies to the front door, though I have no way of knowing if they got the message. Maybe Steve the plumber comes to repair the wall demolished while driving a trench through my garden (known casualties: my big beautiful white lilac, a stand of turtlehead, a stand of blue geranium, one of the elderberries. perhaps both paw-paw trees, the whole planting of blue anemone). The cable guys came yesterday, giants who made this house look like a set from The Hobbit. The television delivery people give themselves four hours to come tomorrow. I forgot to pay the studio rent. For someone who hates upheaval, I’m getting my share. And I’ll bet anyone $10 that I receive not one valentine card, not a single piece of candy.