My Maori fish-hook pendant broke yesterday while I was packing for a shoot. The bone snapped in two, startling me as it shot a surprising distance across the floor. Hours later I began feeling really ill. I proceeded to load my car with a suitcase full of wardrobe, still intending to forge ahead with life as normal. Suffused with stubbornness, feigning good health I pulled a 40-pound bag of pine cat litter from the car and carried it two blocks home. Luckily for me the elevator doors parted like the gates of Heaven when I stepped into the lobby of my building. I made it to my bathroom just in time. One can no longer deny sickness whilst lying on the shag floor mat in one’s bathroom and watching the room spin. Today I feel better but last night passed slowly. This morning I texted Jon the cameraman to cancel our shoot. Part of the message read: “Afraid to drive anywhere for fear of suddenly needing a bathroom.”
At 9am I had to move my car or else risk a $50 ticket. I hoisted myself from bed, beleaguered and grumpy, acting like the Universe had lain a monumental burden across my shoulders. By 9:05am I was merging into traffic to prowl the neighborhood and find a parking spot in an unrestricted zone. Many blocks later I saw a lady in a sweat suit trying to flag down passing motorists. Her dreadlocks bounced as she waved her hands in the air. I pulled over and she looked relieved. Turned out that she needed someone to jump start her car battery so she could get to a dialysis appointment. Thus began an embarrassing episode in which I could not figure out how to unlatch the hood of my car, then couldn’t find the metal stick to prop it open, then discovered I had parked too far from the lady’s car for the jumper cables to connect to both of our batteries. In the midst of all this a third woman had stopped to help. Finally I offered to use my AAA card to get a jump start.
The third woman left and the first lady and I fell into conversation. She introduced herself as Kyle, explained that her car had turned into a lemon, and that she had called AAA so many times that she had exceeded her allotment of service requests. Kyle, who looked about 65 or so, smiled throughout the recitation of her circumstances and continued trying to flag down passersby while I waited on hold with AAA. Cars, trucks, buses, taxis whizzed past us until a man in a large cargo van slammed on his brakes. His shirt bore a name tag along with the logo of his employer. Quickly, methodically he connected jumper cables and got Kyle’s engine running. She gave him a big hug, thanked me graciously, and motored off to dialysis.
I found a parking spot and then stopped at a store to get some fluids to replenish my dehydrated body. While waiting in line I typed a text message, failing to realize that a woman badly needed help getting a load of packages through the door. I apologized after the fact, seconds after she had dragged all the merchandise to a nearby countertop. She seemed to think I did not mean the words and I felt foolish for having my attention so thoroughly focused on a cellphone, bane of present-day society.
Upon arrival at home I felt a little ripple in the environment, maybe heard a bit of laughter in the air. My eyes fixed on a sign which read: “Water will be shut off in entire building from 9am-6pm on Monday, April 13″. Gremlins had broken my necklace, made me sick, and now turned off all the water on a day when I intended to convalesce. I remembered Kyle and smiled at fate. If a senior citizen on dialysis, who has no reliable transportation or anyone to assist her on a regular basis, can maintain her good attitude then I have no right to complain about anything. Ever.
Above photos illustrate a plethora of running water. In the last 24 hours I think the Universe unleashed a series of events to cleanse my consciousness and remind me to show a greater appreciation for both my surroundings and my fellow humans. I intend to do so. Additionally, (after 6pm), I will enjoy my next shower, functional plumbing, and flushing toilet like never before.