The work thing can be interesting. Today, I drove to NYC and met with a woman I have met for the same project twice before. Great that it was at an uptown hospital, 168th St, so I essentially was in the car for 4 hours for 15 minute meeting. By the time I made it back near my office it was close to noon.
Fuck it. Picked up a sick wife and headed home.
So, naturally, when I arrive home I have discovered a leaking hot water heater.
Terrific, right? Reminds me of discussion had last night in therapy, which I have found out is not covered at all, at $165 for 45 minutes.
It was about the decision made to buy this house several years ago. N was about a year old when the Mrs had enough of apartment living. Now, I completely understood. It was absurd to live where we were and expect to be a normal family.
We were renting the top two floors of an Italian woman and her mothers' home. They were terrific. The mom spoke no English and was easily in her 90's. There were a dozen or so nights I woke up to banging on my door. "Mama has fallen, ya gotta help me..."
Towards the end I was sleeping so uneasy I would actually hear her fall and be at their door before she could beckon me.
We paid $900 cash every month. Sunday's we would get gravy hand delivered to us. She made the most wonderful meatballs. Soft, delicious tastes of veal in a lovely red sauce. A few blocks from downtown, near the park. Easy. Too easy.
We weren't town dishwashers. T was a Manhattan saleswoman. She was a go getter. You don't slum around stagnate in an apartment. Upward mobility was the natural progression...
"I'm moving past the feeling..."
And she was... She was determined that we were not going to be in the apartment much longer. And if that is the direction T wants, stand back.
Me? Yeah, scared to death. If we can barely afford the $900 how on Earth will we afford double that?
My $400 a week driving limo will not cut it. Other plans were hatched. Money was going to come in and faster than I thought.
Trust. I was going to have to trust. We visited some open houses. She went out with our new realtor a few Sundays looking at towns. Maplewood, Millburn, Morristown... What's with all the M towns???
Something caught her eye one day. A little Colonial in Madison. Quaint. Much like the neighborhoods we grew up in. Houses tight to one another with but a driveway between them. Small lots where a kid can play on a swingset or learn to hit a fastball. Potential. Warmth. Comfort.
I visited it the next day. I remember entering the foyer and looking at the french doors that opened toward the brick fireplace. "This is special. Maybe this is right."
I wondered about all of it. Money always stood out.
Here I was, a few years removed from 9/11 not earning. In fact, I was a liability. The writing job I expected the moment I arrived never materialized. The confidence I had lacked from birth failed to magically appear.
No, I was driving powerful men(and 2 women) to and from airports and meetings from 4am to 8am, and maybe 7pm to midnight. A failure in my eyes and confident in most others' too.
But T had a plan for money. I will trust that. What she wants she gets. Was hoping I would not be the casualty in that passions' course.
Well, that story is a long, rather detailed one. But as I look back after the denial that has enveloped me for years, I fear I was.
And now it is time to come to grips and move on. She got the house and provided our family with so much. Maybe it's time I forget how it happened and say thank you.
Maybe I move on and look at the tangible issues. Hell, I can address the biggest problem in my life head on.
"Hello, plumber? Yes, I have a leak in my water heater that needs to be addressed ASAP."