The elevator in my apartment building is broken. Again. This is hardly news – it happens so often that 'news' would be if the tired old lift were actually functioning. The management simply replaces one handmade “Out of Service” sign with another and we, used to being elevator orphans, trudge up the back stairs without too much complaint. Except on laundry day.
On Tuesday night, my head felt crowded. I’d spent the day on the phone and email having heart-rending ‘Putting Down the Dog’ conversations with my mother and baby sister. I wasn’t dealing with it; I was dealing consolation, pushing it like a street drug. I left the office later than usual, needing to stay busy -- to keep my mind on something practical and concrete -- not entirely ready to face anything emotional. So I did my laundry.
I stripped the bed, sorted lights from darks, gathered detergents, bleach and softener and made half a dozen trips to the Laundromat on Second Avenue. The first few times I pushed up the four flights of stairs with my Downy smelling armload, I felt invigorated. I had a goal. I was achieving. I was not dwelling. But by the sixth and final trip, I was exhausted. Thoroughly.
The curtain rod was draped in damp denim (I refrain from using dryers whenever possible), sweaters lay drying on every available flat surface and the bed, a plane of slate blue, lay naked and beckoning. I stood in the doorway to my bedroom, staring, feeling the heaviness of the day pulling at my shoulders. It was late, and the clean linens resting folded on the club chair needed to be pressed. I switched off the light and undressed where I stood. Then I wrapped myself in a down comforter and crawled onto my sheetless bed.
The world stopped being busy, and there I was, all dealt out of consolation, finally dealing. I cried. Hard. Full of guilt and remorse and missing. I cried until I was done, then turned the pillow to the cold side and went to sleep.
My heart was a little bit broken. Again. It happens every once in a while, but I take it as a sign the tired old thing is actually still functioning. One day is replaced by another and I, growing more and more accustomed to love and loss, carry on about things without too much self pity. Except, of course, on laundry day.
There isn't much I can say about the loss of your dog. We've all lost our dogs and we have all felt the way you have. It's like you've lost a member of the family. I feel for you.
Posted by: panajane at February 3, 2005 01:31 PMoh, fish. you make me cry, too. my heart hurts for you, and my little sophie-dog would come over to your house and lick your face to say "i'm sorry, cheer up" if she was any place close to manhattan.
Posted by: pinky at February 3, 2005 01:34 PMfish,
you inspire me.
thanks.
fish,
thanks for such awesome writing.
this is such a sad and beautiful post. i loved it.
i also like the cold side of the pillow best.
Posted by: julia at February 3, 2005 01:55 PMStrength.
Posted by: ariel at February 3, 2005 02:12 PMI really love your writing style. And you sound like you are living a parallel life with me. You do exactly the same things, it's weird. But maybe we are all much more alike than we realize...until someone manages to put into words what you think and do.
Posted by: Robin Alexa at February 3, 2005 02:25 PMFrom one fish to another: Nice blog!
Posted by: Fishy at February 3, 2005 02:30 PMsomeone told me a long time ago that i was "Cooler than the other side of the pillow." i loved that analogy and still use it a lot. :)
Posted by: red at February 3, 2005 03:22 PMYou press your linens?
Posted by: Noisette at February 3, 2005 03:58 PMYes, I do. I'm from the South where it's not at all uncommon. It fact, it's considered good breeding (whereas you'll of course see it as high-maintenance and self conscious and precious).
Posted by: Fish at February 3, 2005 04:08 PM
Hi, enjoyed reading your blog today.
Cheers, Dayna
rin
Am i missing something here?
The comment was removed. Rin didn't post it, and whoever did is just being a pest.
Posted by: Fish at February 3, 2005 04:51 PMYou sure go to a lot of work to do laundry. I've become so used to having a washer and dryer in my own home that I don't know what I'd do if I had to truck my clothes up and down stairs and down the street!
Anyway, a down comforter can sure be a comforter when you're down, yes? (was that a totally cheesy thing to say or what?)
PS - I'm from the south and refuse to iron my linens. In fact I wad them up so they get as wrinkled as possible.
Well, technically no, I don't see how the act of pressing one's sheets is either precious or self-conscious(or an act of good breeding, either, but that must be my yankee prejudice), but good to know that you read my blog.
Posted by: Noisette at February 3, 2005 05:03 PMWhy no dryer?
Posted by: Jenny at February 3, 2005 05:03 PMJenny - Clothes last longer that way.
Amy - HA! Yes, but did your mother??
Noisette - Ditto.
Posted by: Fish at February 3, 2005 05:06 PMFish,
I'm having one of those weeks too. I cried into my bath last night until I thought I might drown. When I got out, I was pruny and looked like Tammy Fay Baker in a rainstorm. It cracked me up.
I am thankful you have this site. I appreciate you sharing what you are going through, even if it is mundane laundry and a sheet-free night.
So, thank you for giving us this glimpse of life. I've always wondered what it would be like to live in Manhattan...
Cheers,
Africankelli
Aw, Fish, my mom already thinks I'm a total failure as a housekeeper, did you HAVE to bring her into this??? LOL
Posted by: Amy at February 3, 2005 05:58 PMLinens? What are those?
Posted by: Robotnik at February 3, 2005 07:56 PMAll I can say is. . . .I sorry. In a weird way, it was good to read and realize people don't always sugarcoat everything. Take care you.
Posted by: Stace at February 3, 2005 08:31 PMI hate dryers too. But my husband insists on drying everything to, I don't know, to death? To within an inch of its life? He keeps saying "if you put it away and its damp it will grow moldy" Argh.
Anyway, my snufflemutts are 12 years old and sometimes when I just think of them not being around it makes me cry. Even though Sappho wears a diaper and mocha has to wear the collar of death because he is such a howler.
Sweet dreams.
Posted by: notguilty at February 3, 2005 09:20 PMFish-
Just happened upon your blog not too long ago. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings.
Also, I'm really sorry to hear about your dog.
Kimberly
Posted by: Kimberly at February 4, 2005 09:55 AMHey there Fish :)
Thanks for sharing (and in such beautiful, Fishly prose as ever). Losing a pet is always awful - my heart goes out to you.
Whenever I read one of the sad entries, I get this feeling that most of your life (or entries) is unhappy. But that's not true, it's just an impression. In my own life, I find that I write much more (and much better) when I'm depressed, whereas happiness is too ethereal to describe so you just end up recounting events, which never captures the real feeling that was there. I once compared trying to write about happiness with trying to catch sunlight in a jar. Joy is beyond description.
But the reason I'm posting is to say that thinking about "the sad posts" made me think about whether people's lives were always like this only they weren't able to document them daily like this before (which is of course absurd because then what are journals?). Reading about people's lives makes me think about all the lives that no one read about and whether they were all the same and lived as we did (something the commonality of blogs seems to prove). How wonderful it would be to see the "blogs" (or journals) of our grandparents, of our ancestors, to see how they dealt with the trials of their lives, how they loved and lost, mourned and celebrated and where and how they found strength to carry on their daily lives.
Our oneness is our greatest strength.
Posted by: Michael R at February 4, 2005 10:35 AM;) HELLO I FIND YOUR BLOG BY CHANCE...
YOU KNOW?? I ALSO I HAVE A BLOG AND SEEING THE INTERESTING THING THAT SHE IS, SO THAT YOU DO NOT PLACE A DEVICE TO TRANSLATE IT TO SEVERAL LANGUAGES...
GREETINGS FROM MEXICO CITY!! :)
beautiful post.
Posted by: Josh at February 4, 2005 12:41 PMMy childhood dog was put to sleep when I was around 20, unfortunately, no one bothered to tell me until afterwards due to disfunctional family issues. Can you hear the bitterness? But to this day and beyond, my dog, Stubby, holds a special place in my heart and I will never forget him. And you'll never forget your beloved puppy either.
Hang in there, Fish.
Dude, Nancy Karina's comment is awesome!
Posted by: Robotnik at February 4, 2005 01:46 PMAlo. ;) I am by name Dietrich Von Schnellenberger from Basel, Austria. I land on your blog in accident from translation referral system within Google. And funny the thing in seeing I have blog also and she is so pretty. I have device to catch fish.
Posted by: Robotnik at February 4, 2005 01:52 PMFor me it was not a dog but a cat. K.C., which stands (appropriately) for Kitty Cat. He was my sweetheart, and when, at the age of 21, I had to deal with his sickness and eventual death, I tried to be strong, but instead drenched my pillow with tears. So I am sorry for your loss. Our pets are our family. That's for sure.
And as for the laundry: I get a keen picture in my head of your apartment draped in drying garments. I have also done this (being very anti-drying as well). It came in handy with the cable guy one day when I needed a repair. He walked into my undergarment-laden apartment and stared quite frequently at all the lacey things I had strewn across my chairs, counters, and lampshades (yes, lampshades). He then promptly gave me HBO. For free.
Posted by: pismire at February 4, 2005 02:26 PMNot nearly as romantic or whatever, but:
My grandmother used to iron sheets, too - she said it was because if you didn't iron them, the dust mites would survive (this was before the days of automatic dryers).
Even after she got a dryer, though, she ironed them anyway, partly (I think) because she liked the feel of them, and partly because she'd done it all her life. And she was from Wisconsin, so indulge (or not) in whatever makes you feel special and cared for!! :)
"We search before and after and pine for what is not - our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught. Our deepest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." -- Percy Bysshe Shelley
Posted by: lawyerchik1 at February 4, 2005 04:13 PMI LOVE freshly ironed sheets!
So sorry to hear about your pup. Stay busy.
Posted by: AdventureGirl at February 4, 2005 05:31 PMOh Fish - I am so sorry about your dog. Thinking of you and all your clean laundry.
Posted by: Princess of Power at February 4, 2005 08:16 PMi am sorry for your loss. if you are like me pets are the same as people.
(link me to your blog when you get a moment...i have a link to you on mine. thanks)
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