Were you to enter our house, you might notice the wall to wall mirrors to your left, the 'living room' to your right now a 'fine arts room', complete with piano and numerous guitars in various states of disrepair and paintings in various states of becoming. You might note that the entrance leads to a staircase and would probably smell something cooking in the kitchen around the corner. You would not particularly notice the small dropped ceiling above you, stuccoed in a nondescript white.
A few months ago, as I descended the staircase, I head a scratch-scritch sound. Hmm. pause . listen. nothing. But occasionally, walking up or down the stairs, there would be repeat. A month ago, the noises increased in persistence and despite my knocking on the ceiling, continued. Something was in there. eek. I told my husband, rescuer of spiders and lifter of boxes. He looked skeptical. It was kind of like when I was 5 weeks pregnant and told him, "Feel, the baby is kicking!" Of course, as soon as he touched my stomach, the baby held it's breath and lay still. I should have known then she was a stinker! Anyways, I digress. Back to the ceiling. Eventually, my daughter heard the 'sounds' and then my husband. There was no denying it. We had unwanted tenants. And then the kitchen smells weren't the only smells. It began to smell more and more of pee. yes. pee. Okay. Now we actually had to do something. Though everything looked lovely, there was something rotten in Denmark, not the kind of rotten you can live with, not the kind of rotten had can be denied, rationalized or wished away. I find I can be like that ceiling. Things look good, there are signs that something is amiss. Sometimes, denial works for a while, but eventually is renovation time. So, it's with reluctance that I send my husband (what, me?!) to begin the demolition. More tomorrow....
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April 2015
Janet---constructed and constructing along the way--- Categories |