Saint David's Day

 

March 1, 2022

Shrove Tuesday

Saint David’s Day

Travis and Trent are downstairs hammering away on the furnace. Earlier, Dave the gas company guy was here because I walked into the house and smelled gas, and the furnace had gone off. I thought the pilot might be out, but it was–of course-- something more intricate than that. Trent acted in A Tuna Christmas at Polk County High School. We got onto the subject because he admired the bust on the hallway sideboard and I said, “That’s Shakespeare,” and he said, “I know I don’t sound like it, but I do know who Shakespeare is. I even did plays in high school.” They’re likeable souls, and from the giggling in the basement you can tell they enjoy working together.

Sunday night was the darkest, darkest, and Monday rose slowly toward gray, but this is Tuesday, and the sun gleams and two workers giggle and hammer in the basement. 

Watched a big opossum die in the back yard, his staggering steps slowing, slowing, until he lay still under the pear tree. Then I went to the Post Office, and when I got back he was gone. I suppose he was “playing ‘possum,” but, except for a tree full of screaming crows, it’s hard to know why. The crows did disappear when he lay still. Do opossums fear crows? Was it just a sleep of annoyance? 

Turns out that the furnace is a goner. One thing is broken that lets CO into the house. . . another thing is broken that snuffs out the flame, letting natural gas into the house. . . something else is rusted through in a dozen places. . . this and that are out of code. It was installed in 1996, and Trent observed that furnaces last only 15 years, so I perhaps got more than my money’s worth. One cold night (tonight) and terrible upheaval tomorrow morning, and this, too should be behind me. The final visitor, Russ, wrote out the estimate and drew up tomorrow’s work plans. We both hate Putin, but then he added “he’s almost as useless as Biden,” so I knew where the conversation ought not to go. He said, “Do you know where you were on your 25th birthday?” It turns out that I did. He then related that on his 25th he was on the road fleeing a job at Wynn Dixie in Florida because Florida was too crowded and crime-ridden, to stay with his daddy here until he could get organized. Russ has Tourette’s so the conversation was occasionally startling. I had wanted to go to the Shrove Tuesday pancake supper at All Souls, but that was nearing its end as Russ left the house. Lent is begun.

Odd observation: I was paralyzed with rage when my Internet went out and when my books didn’t arrive on time. This furnace event hardly affects me at all. Maud lies asleep under my coat. 

Sweetboi and Denise are returned. The flew screaming over me in the afternoon sun. I went to the Sav-Mor to buy them meaty bones.