LOOKS LIKE A COAL MINE IN HERE

Today the ceiling fell in. And no, that is not a metaphor. It did fall in. Or rather, it succumbed to the pressure of the water that was released when our not-too-bright upstairs workmen decided to cut the pipe that was sagging and clogged. When I ran up and told him water was leaking from two places in separate rooms, he went back to banging things hard and I called the landlord. While talking to her assistant, the leaks grew and got worse. I tried to explain while running around grabbing pots and tubs (we don’t have many, we’re only here for the year, being frugal, not knowing we’d need more for leaks) and trying to move stacks of paper as leaks snaked near them. Then, just as I stepped back out of the way (it was leaking a lot now), a huge piece of ceiling bigger than me fell in one chunk and wet plaster and black gunk crashed onto everything in our dining room. Including the stacks of paper that represent my entire second semester of work, reading material, printouts, notes and books. No one was hurt. A tiny bus driver drawing by Susannah, and dried tiny daffodils from Sara and Pete also came through without so much as a dent. Like magic. Unfortunately, my little flower shrinky-dink pendant by Corey was swept away by the same workman and his pal and I couldn’t find it in the rubble. I’m sad about that. Add it to the tally of meaningful jewelry lost this year: 1 cool chain ring by Web Crowell--left on the top of Mt. Snowdon after taking it off to apply sunscreen. 1 purple tile pendant bought from a street seller in Georgetown, Seattle and made into a necklace with nuts and bolts fixtures by Jason on the day I went camping with Cynthia--disappeared into the Soho streets of London. 1 wedding ring--lost in the autumn leaves in the park while gathering worm bin bedding and miraculously found again two days later). And now, 1 shrinky-dink pendant made and brought to me by Corey--lost in the rubble of the fallen ceiling in Cardiff. Don’t give me jewelry while I’m in Wales. I’ll just lose it.

It’s mostly cleaned up now, and they say they’ll come re-do the ceiling and fix the gaping hole on Monday morning. They’ve been driving me nuts all week. The pipe cutter guy whistles constantly and repetitively. They let their scary dog walk all over my herb garden yesterday. And they play loud stupid pop radio stations all day long. Oh yeah, and they start at 8am on the dot and are loudest in the morning. (I know, real people with day jobs are plenty up and moving by 8am, but we’ve been pretty proud to get and basically stay on an up-by-9:30 schedule and it treats us right.) And at the rate they’re going, I’m sure it will be all renovated and ready for the next renter about the time we’re ready to leave. Reminds me of the last summer I lived alone, when the landlord put brown paper over all the windows of my apartment and spend most of the summer slowly painting the house twice over. Oh well, who cares. I’m going to Cornwall soon enough.