Invited Invader

A man came into my home the other day. He doesn't live here, and while he was invited, he wasn't entirely welcome. His purpose was to repair the leaky shower/tub in my bathroom, and repair it I must admit he did. Nonetheless, and through no real fault of his, I did not really care for his presence. I'm most glad for the impressive diligence of the building's management in dealing with concerns, but the fact remains that interlopers must wreak havoc with our shaky, nascent routines in order to implement the fixes. Having workers in the house is a hard thing to deal with. I don't know how anyone with a domestic staff can live their lives in what is essentially someone else's workplace. I prefer for my home to be nothing but a home to anyone, and certainly not a job site.

The water was turned off and the bathroom occupied, so while some critical areas and functions were rendered inaccessible or inoperative, much of the apartment remained free to travel in and use. Even operating within that, I could not go on as if things were entirely normal. I could almost forget and sink into  my thoughts but for the noises. The man's presence intruded on my consciousness, and I could hardly write anything except this airing of my frustration with being unable to write about what else I might want to. What if I could get him out of my mind and work? He would just finish his work and unwittingly deliver the traumatizing blow of a lifetime by gently knocking on my door and casually informing me the work was done and the water reactivated.

The way I am, I probably would be more consistently comfortable if an uncaring, distant management declined to ever address problems in the apartment. I would be loathe to even bring most things up if not for my roommates, and so the only risk of intrusion would be matters which affected enough of the building that the manager would not wait for me to be unhappy. Perhaps I would be a suitable candidate for home ownership, since as the owner of the property, the buck would stop with me. It wouldn't really though, would it? It doesn't matter how far you rise- there's always a greater authority with power over you. Making peace with that must surely ease much anxiety in this life.

If I owned my own home, I'd only find myself accosted by city or county meddling. Worse still, I might find myself persecuted by some terrible home owners association. It seems like it's people so deprived of self-determination or authority in the rest of their lives that they take it out on hapless, innocent homeowners under their purview for such crimes as painting the house an unapproved color or skipping a day on the lawn. I want nothing to do with any such entity. It would be a fate far worse than the basically harmless man holed up in my bathroom for the moment. As they say, better the devil you know than the one sadistically micromanaging little details of something which isn't their concern and which you bought and paid for. I say that, anyway.