Comma Dot Comma

Goodbye forever, ugly black rubber air conditioner tube.

I faced the snowy world today with a swell of triumph in my breast. Wait. That didn’t come out right. I guess I shouldn’t put “swell” and “breast” in the same sentence from now on. Start over.

I faced the snowy world today with the triumphant visage of a superhero. Dottie the Conqueror. I did not walk to the car, I strode. Sashayed. Swaggered. Why? Because I had faced the powers of inertia with my small weapon (word processor) and I had won.

The air conditioner in my apartment has been broken oh, since we moved in a year and a half ago. We called the landlord every week all summer and in September he finally replaced some pipes and tubes. Leaving behind holes in several walls in the house. Also a giant black rubber tube with a matching copper tube curving down the entire wall of our back room. Also a hole in the back brick wall where the tube goes out. There is putty around it but the sunlight still comes through and makes cool designs on the floor.

I like the sunlight designs but really. It’s cold out. More phone calls. More unreturned phone calls. Finally I included a –shall we say — firm letter with my rent check. Sample sentence:

“We look forward to your cooperation in the timely completion of the repairs– a hearing would be an inconvenience for everyone, and we’d like to avoid it if possible. ” (In Baltimore you can put your rent in escrow with the city when repairs go undone for long periods).

Three days later, the tube has been replaced, and the Russians are banging around the house filling in holes and gesturing and saying things I don’t understand but find satisfying to listen to. Everytime the say something, they follow it up with a productive and sensible action. I wish they were here all the time. I wish they would tell each other to bundle the recycling or sew the belt loops back on my brown pants. I tell myself these things but it doesn’t have the same effect. Maybe because I use English?

Russian A: “Glotsky dubrenik!”
Russian B: “Da!” And Russian B starts mixing up putty or rehanging the drywall or whatever.

I talked to the nice go-between lady at the Landlord’s office. She said that the Landlord planned to personally supervise the work. She said I should let her know if anything was not to my liking. “Good thing you sent that letter,” she said.

“Oh, did you read it?” I said.

“Yeah it scared me a little,” she said.

“Pretty badass eh?” I said. We laughed.

Only one worry. As I was heading out the door the Russians were talking concernedly about a crack that runs along the ceiling. I hadn’t even mentioned it in the letter. They were tilting their heads to view it from different angles. They were calling their boss on the cell phone about it.

“Is that bad?” I asked one of them, pointing at the crack. He listened to the cell phone conversation for a moment and then turned back to me with that concerned doctor look that you know means bad news.

“Da,” he said.

Later today I will post a picture of the Black Tube That Was and Is No More. It deserves to be commemorated. (wait, now I wonder if the AC is broken again. Must doublecheck when I get home).