No One Notices The Contrast of White On White

More and more lately, the difference between what I can and can't do lies in what I let myself consider. I can't run much farther than I have been for over a month. I'm not making a lot of progress on that front and it's a little frustrating - but thinking 'I should be able to connect this stretch I run with this other stretch I also run and I can't. Harrumph!' overlooks a few important facts. One is that arthritic stiffness in my hips has to be dealt with, which takes time, and I'm doing it. Another is I'm walking a lot faster than I was even a month ago. The third is a really steep hill on South Fifth Avenue.

At the bottom of the hill, there's a crosswalk painted onto the asphalt. Adela and I walked all over the park where she usually runs and then she showed me South Fifth Avenue. We walked up the hill with some effort and at the top there's a street sign: SLOW - where you, walking or running up the hill read it and say, "Yes! Yes, I am." And we, walking up that hill, said, "That sign seems rather taunty." Weeks ago, after I ran and walked in the park, I'd walk over to this hill and start to run up it, knowing I probably shouldn't be able to run it at all but here I was, trying. I couldn't get to the top. I'd come within two or three driveways of the top. Yesterday, after a rather disappointing walk and run in the park I went to the hill with modest expectations. I started at the crosswalk, kept my knees high and stayed on my toes. It took forever to reach the street I pass on the left but then suddenly I was at the top of the hill and two driveways from the sign. I thought, 'That's nothing! I can do that.' Then I touched my hand to the sign and I had done it. I'd told Adela I'd never be able to run up that hill. A few months later, I have. It is a modest accomplishment but if I had not said, 'Well, why not try?' I would still think I'd never run another yard. This sense of possibility has not at all helped with the air conditioner situation.

Sharkey arrived at my house just after 1:30 this afternoon because of this email exchange:

Tata: CAN YOU READ?
Sharkey: Yes. Soemtmes. Y?
Tata: Come to my house and read the installation manual for my air conditioner!
Sharkey: Why? What's the problem?
Tata: I CAN'T READ THE PICTURES!

It's true: though I watched and helped Mr. DBK install the exact same model of air conditioner in my living room while he and I both muttered about how bad the instructions were, enough time had passed while waiting for parts to arrive that I couldn't remember how the pictures were supposed to explain anything. The other day, a package arrived containing the last of the parts the factory failed to include the first time. I started piecing together what I could and I thought I could just install it myself. I'd seen it done, right? But no. There were two diagrams in the middle of the instructions I just couldn't make head nor tail of, and thus I whined at Sharkey, and offered to take him to lunch if he'd read me this fairy tale.

Sharkey, like me, has little short-term memory. He, like me, looks at every situation and has to figure everything out from scratch. He has confidence in his ability to survey the facts, pick through for the important ones and arrive at a course of action.

Sharkey: What the hell is this?
Tata: See? It's like the instructions need some!

Holding the manual, Sharkey walked from the pile of parts in my bedroom to the installed unit in the living room, then back, then back again. He put down the manual and looked at the window frame.

Sharkey: Does the screen just open or...?
Tata: Yes. Also: if you see a squirrel making eyes at you, he means it.
Sharkey: What are you talking about?
Tata: One of the previous tenants may have fed the squirrels so when you open that screen you may have a new best friend. Which will upset the cat. And the Health Department.

Fortunately, the squirrels are fickle or they don't visit on Shabbos. Sharkey opens the window and nothing happens. He measures this thing against this other thing and marks the sill. It is at this point that we discover my electric screwdriver has not taken a charge and won't be drilling into anything. I immediately choose a bold course of action.

Tata: Let's go have lunch.
Sharkey: How long does it take to charge?
Tata: Shouldn't be more than half an hour.
Sharkey: I'm feeling a little peckish...

We go to out for burgers because I had my braces massively adjusted yesterday and I can't wait to chew a hunk of salted animal flesh. The waitress brings me the rarest burger they can make, which I eat with a fork and a grimace while Sharkey tells me about his dramatic romance. I pay the check and we race back to my place, where the screwdriver has not taken a charge at all. We stare at the small power tool and wonder why it does not love us.

Sharkey: I'll go home and get mine.
Tata: I hate to ask you to go all the way to the other side of Piscataway and come back.
Sharkey: I could come back tomorrow? Whaddya think?
Tata: I think you're being awfully nice about this. Should I check your skull for lumps?

In the wide world of almost unimaginable possibilities, I may have an air conditioner installed in my bedroom tomorrow. But I won't blame you if you don't believe it. I would've said the same thing yesterday. In fact, "I may have an air conditioner in my bedroom tomorrow" has been my mantra for the past few weeks. One of these days, these nonsense words will probably be true.