April Showers Bring May Showers And Sump Pumps

April Showers Bring May Showers And Sump Pumps

I once recounted to a co-worker something hilarious she had said years ago. She didn’t remember it but remarked blithely, “That’s why we have friends. To remember our own lives.” I’ll get back to this.

Now: spring in Vermont. Frost heave neck-aches. Rain. More rain. Entire mountains of snow thawing onto the hapless Lands below. Chill winds. Losing your bet on that effigy in a chair on Silver Lake. Mud, mud, mud, mud, mud. And more mud.

And still … a robin cheers you. His fat worm belly is bigger than your winter snack food gut. An abandoned car waist-high in mud makes you happy it’s not yours. Dry cleaning this time of year? Nah. Air clean! That’s right. Hang your garments on a tree and let spring breezes waft the b.o. away free of charge. And it’s the one time of year you don’t have to shovel, mow, or rake. You can, but you don’t have to.

You might, however, need to bail out the basement. Great good fun. As I wearied of bailing and dropping prescription Ibuprofen® the size of mothballs, someone suggested I had everything I needed “right at home” to assemble my own sump pump. Really?! I tossed and turned that night. Try as I might, I couldn’t picture it. A blender attached to a giant rubber band rigged to a broom…no, that won’t work. A canister vacuum thrown into reverse mounted vertically on the wall…no, 1-800-ELECTROCUTE…a ladle fastened to a team of squirrels in macramé harnesses with a moisture-wicking pulley system? I gave up. Mercifully, like a lot of Vermonters, I have great neighbors; they saved the day with a loaner pump. I have so much free time now I feel like joining Facebook (note to everyone who insists I join this colossal waste of time: I’m kidding.)

A dear friend moving away held a farewell reception. I had to cut out early to go work the pump–sometimes you have a sixth sense about impending disaster. As I announced my departure to guests horrified I’d leave the party early, my friend apologized to them for me: “Ann’s very…” (I’m filling in the blank in my mind—what, besieged by crises? Antisocial? Unbalanced?) Until she found the word she was looking for…“goal-oriented.”

There was a collective sigh of understanding. Or maybe I sighed solo with relief. Point is: Funny how people’s perceptions of us differ from our own. And how one of us won’t remember the exchange. But then, that’s why we have friends. To remember our own lives.

Another good friend said how much her deceased father would have adored Michelle Obama. “Look at her! Isn’t she something?” my friend imagined him saying. In this season of mud, strong winds, overcast skies, and dreary inward reflection, I responded about how tough it is, this life thing, the way people come and go.

“Well. At least they were there in the first place,” she replied.

I leave you with that. For spring. Catch you on Facebook. Good day.

Tips for When You’re Stuck in Mud Awaiting Rescue: Books on Tape

I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron just might be better listened to than read.