Thursday, May 13, 2010
A Clue, Perhaps
According to the directions on a jug of liquid drain cleaner, after allowing it to work for thirty minutes, the product was to be flushed through the drain with hot water. But since the drain in question is in the bathroom sink at the far end of the house, the arrival of hot water would come only after half a minute or so of cold, thus reducing the cleaner’s effectiveness. The answer, my wife said, was to bring hot water from the kitchen in our tea kettle. This made sense — and so, about ten minutes before it was needed, I started filling the kettle with water and was about to put it on the stove to heat when she asked why I didn’t fill the kettle with hot water directly from the kitchen faucet, and take that to the bathroom. Well — the fact is, the thought never occurred to me. Had she not intervened, had she gone outside to plant flowers or feed the cats, I would have heated the water to boiling; I had already done so in my mind; I know, because I was also concerned about using water that hot in the bathroom sink — because it didn’t even occur to me that I could heat the water only part way. And I doubt it would have, because by then I had jumped ahead to weeding the irises, and thinking about Vincent Van Gogh. I tried to draw an iris the other day, but it was black, and it ended up wearing an old shoe. I think that’s what reminded me of Van Gogh. Those beautiful shoes he drew. And irises. And souls. And you.
In the Forum: an involuntary morning epic.