On Thursday, Mister had his spring concert:
It was lovely. No broken bow. His loopy floor spike didn't collapse. What you can't see are his shoes.
You see, he wore hand-me-down dress shoes from his grandfather. Plain, black shoes with a sole that flapped without glue. He could have worn the pair that I gave him. I no longer wear the pair but they are perfectly good. But Mister actually returned them to me. Why? They look too "girly." Girly! My shoes! Why too girly? They have fringe.
Look, I understand his concern. When I started having to wear a suit to go to work, I vowed no fringe and no tassels on my shoes. Eventually, I relaxed my rules: fringe OR tassels--but never both. The shoes I tried to give to Mister were from that era. Now I willingly wear shoes with both tassels and fringe. I guess living in Ann Arbor for three decades has evolved me, I suppose. Still, it was a bit insulting to have to insist to a grinning son that no, I did not buy them in the women's department of a shoe store. Sheesh. Does he not realize that wills can be changed?
Friday night, the falling apart was my home's siding. The high winds ripped off part of the aluminum siding on the other side of my bedroom and the remainder banged around in a way that kept waking me with a start the rest of the night. I called in the problem the next morning after I verified that the banging was the result of lost siding, but the siding still isn't repaired. I thought I was being a good condo citizen so they could repair it quickly to keep the inner wall protected from the elements. Perhaps it is irrelevant. I really don't know.
Saturday was a different sort of disappointment. The Red Wings went down to San Jose in the Western Conference semi-finals. I just thought the Wings could do it. Or rather, I thought they could win the next game even when we were down 3-0 in the series. I didn't really think about four wins. But I still believed we could do it. And so did Mister. Well, he hoped we could--mostly he spoke of doom and gloom. But he had hopes we could pull it off and we went to sleep Saturday night quite disappointed.
This should not have happened, since I thought the day's problems were behind us. Just a minor thing--the water heater's pilot light died, so Mister ran out of cold water while taking a shower. "Dad! I ran out of hot water!" Brrr. Although I had plenty for the dishes I had just washed. I decided not to mention the bright side to Mister at that moment.
The heater is in a very cramped space and I had difficulty reading the instructions to make sure I knew what I was doing. And the positioning of the gap to light the pilot light and the gas knob were too awkwardly placed to push in one while guiding a lit match. Luckily, Mister could reach the gas switch to hold it down while I lit the pilot light. Problem solved. But not home free for that night.
Sunday, I thought, was sure to be problem free. But no, Mister's bathroom toilet blew its tower when the old plastic finally gave way and the ball became useless. It was the last of the original plumbing to fall apart that way. I have a replacement, and Friday I'll fix it.
So that was it, right?
Yesterday, at lunch with a couple of co-workers, I discovered that my fortune cookie was empty. I had no fortune. No fate. No lucky numbers. No future at all, it seems. How much more can one's life fall apart than that?
And then, to top it off, today my umbrella inverted and snapped every rib just yards from my office, just as I was reaching to close it. Blast.
This weekend had best be much better. I really think I deserve a bit of good fortune. In large and trivial ways, please.
And yes, I kid. The problems of the American middle class are just horrifying, eh?
