I have no use for you, I said
And smashed it on the cement
Unrecognizable as anything that could have
Taken so much space within me
Blowing in the breeze
~ Hezaasan, (c) 2018
Dug up this old piece in honor of my house being up to its usual stupid-face antics this morning.
Water always wins, and my oh-so-needy abode likes to remind me of that fact on an annual basis. I’ve been through a burst pipe, leaks near the sump pump, sump pump failure, refrigerator filtered water tubing breakage, washing machine basin overflow. It’s never the same issue twice. Living here is a constant game of whack-a-mole.
This morning, it appears I was due for its regularly scheduled prank at my expense: water all over the kitchen table, and moisture bubbles in the ceiling above (which is just below the kids’ bathtub).
To be fair, I knew this was coming eventually — there’s been a suspicious crack in the ceiling ever since I moved in. A crack that’s been “on the list” for nearly 7 years now. The “I’ll get around to it” page in that notebook I so carefully kept when I was naive and excited about having a place to invest my money in, with a gorgeous yard and huge basement for the kids, and the ability to play my music and turn up the TV as loud as I want, without any neighbors on the opposite side of the wall to consider. And sure, the inspection found some water issues coming from the master bath, but we made that a condition for the purchase and they paid for the repair. Everything was going to be fantastic. I’d done my homework and all would be well.
I wrote this poem after something like my fifth round of water issues, many years after losing my innocence about what homeownership really means. For some reason, it came to mind this morning, as well as a strong desire to work on my plans for my future life as a gypsy. Purely coincidental, I’m sure.