l’ve heard it all before

I seriously need to start figuring out how to shape myself into a more-rounded person. Most of my conversations these days seem to involve the embarrassing things I did on nights out, how old I’m feeling and the absolute crème de la crème – updates on my leaky roof. It’s got to the stage now that when people see me they greet me with a hearty how are your leaks? I need to start building a reputation for other things like an astoundingly sharp political commentary, invaluable career advice or perhaps knowledgeable insights into society’s concerns in the modern age.

But until then I am afraid we’re stuck with my leaky roof. As you may recall I’ve been in and out of denial about this, practically on a daily basis. I’ve tried passing the buck to neighbours, attempted to persuade myself roofs were overrated and not nearly as important as everyone makes out and finally relinquished and contacted professional grown ups to take a look. They looked and advised that I employ other professional grown ups with a penchant for zinc. They were certain about one of the leaks – the other remained a puzzle. This mysterious leak was over my kitchen table under a perfectly good piece of roof and also had the impressive habit of only leaking during dry spells. Seeing as it was merely an occasional leak it was wonderfully easy to wrap up in denial and forget all about. Which I did until last week when my Occasionally Stationary Friend noticed with concern that there was water dripping into his cup of tea. We first looked up and then outside at the curiously dry weather. This really was a true mystery. I distracted my OSF with a fresh cup of tea and a frenzied improvised version of American Boy to distract him from my crumbling Manhattan-style loft apartment, not to mention my growing embarrassment.

Then this weekend I solved the problem. I fixed the leak! All on my own and without even meaning to. It happened when I was having one of my productivity fits where I race about doing all the chores I’ve been putting off during the last six months. Cleaning cupboards, mopping floors, recycling bottles, watering plants… Shortly after the last activity I noticed the kitchen ceiling leak had appeared again. I quickly realised that yet again it was dry outside and couldn’t help but remember that only thirty seconds previously I had given the upstairs plant a lot of water (to make up for the recent neglect). I quickly went to check the plant and sure enough, there was a little stream running from the pot down the sloped floor to a little crack where it excitedly rushed to meet my kitchen table.  

I couldn’t tell if I was more embarrassed by my stupidity or by the fact that it has taken me six months to put two and two together. There are many, many, morals to be taken from this tale but I have chosen to heed only one: There is a lot to be said for cacti.