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Monday, May 23, 2011

drip dry

Every once in a while my manhood is called into question, this happens at home. In a place that I can't throw fists or make snide remarks about other people's manhood. To allay this I engage in activities that are clearly male. That sentence makes me feel sexist so I will qualify it by saying that I pee while standing every so often all the time. I also change tyres. And while there are women who can do it better than me, am sure many. This is still the traditional role of the man in the house or his sons when he has them. Don't take this to mean that I don't think women should change tyres, I am all for that.i would even encourage a spike in the number of female tyre changers.

Anyway there's a clothing line out back and its main function is to hold clothes up so they can drip dry, its architecture is quite simple, there are 2 pillars but they are only pillars in the way that a vitz is a car(I don't even know why I made that joke I have nothing against the vitz.) anyway these two metal structures are staked into the ground something they didn't do enough of in twilight or so I've read. once there they are fixed into space with cement that seeps into the earth in a disaster more ecologically changing than an oil spill. Can you imagine mud mixed with cement? It can never go back to just being mud and the cement it's not just cement it's a forced hegemony that can't last. Between the pillars are strung a couple o' lines tied by the god of knots himself. They are so tight that every rapper wants to be them. The weighing wet of washed clothes is not supposed to bring them down. But one of the towers was leaning against the wind. It wasn't straight and this cannot be had so the usual suspects were dispatched to take care of the problem.

My cousin and I went to the workplace with one condition this one from him, we would work for exactly an hour, and stop. “Time is important and we are always chasing it.”

It was here that we remembered the difference between the people formulating the theory and those actually doing the work, it is easy to be idealistic from an ivory tower, it's made of ivory if I lived in a thing made of ivory I would drip as much idealism as those clothes do water, unless I was an elephant lover than I guess.... anyway(the ivory tower was all the female housemembers who weren't doing this but reserved the right to comment). We began the work. The first thing to do was to make a hole so we could move the pillar from its sad hole that wasn't strong enough to hold it any more to this new abyss. It was like calling London in a game of bano(marbles) and then you move the marble in a radius from the previous hole. Except now were moving the hole. Four paces from the closest line then another four paces to find the new hole.

This would mean the clothesline would be diagonal and nothing else was, the wall wasn't diagonal, the house wasn't diagonal, but this was not an aesthetics class. The first concern was functionality and if we could get rid of the feng shui concerns for a while this was perfect till the first emissary from the ivory tower came and said that we should make 2 holes to move the whole thing side ways. This was the wrong move in 2 distinct ways; it was more work for me, it was more work for him.

There can be no other better reasons but the ivory tower doesn't heed any reason better than “come and do it if you are not satisfied with how it looks.” We had 2 digging implements for the hole, one was a panga or as I have learned form PEV a machete, the second was a, I guess I could call it a sword but only in the way those 2 pillars were pillars. It hadn't rained in a while and noone likes to stick it to something dry that's hard work, then the tools go soft because of so much resistance. If you saw that double entrendre you are a pervert. Writing this I figure I could have fetched water from indoors and splashed it around the earth to loosen it. Anyway it was slow progress.

As one of us would dig the other would try to uproot the pillar. There were actually clothes on it so the other would collect the clothes. We had anther cousin visiting and we let him get to the work of taking the clothes in. this is a distinctly ivory job. Which explains his comment about my lack of strength when he saw me trying to uproot the pillar. It was stuck in the ground. Really stuck. cement I would pull with all my might and it wouldn't give, I let him know this was a 2 man job and I would appreciate his help. One snide remark later I let him carry on by himself about to find out that roots made of cement don't leave all that easily. After tossing and straining for about five minutes I was the bigger man and accepted an apology from him. I took it the way that guy would have taken the pound of flesh in the merchant of Venice if he had not been outwitted.

It was in the middle of all this upheaval or lack thereof that somebody(I put the me in somebody am even the guy who just made it bolder) thought it would be a better idea to just fix the pillar where itt was, to firm it up and leave. The only objection was that we had already made the hole and that would have been wasted work. That logic was quickly defeated by 3 reasons: my way meant less work for me, it meant less work for him and it meant less work for him. We put some stones in and waited for the cement.

What a rumour. The second reason I had agreed to do this work was that I would play with cement. Throw some water on it and make it hard which is not how many things work.(not even gutters) But instead of cement we got a bag of stones. It's not the same thing, but it's the thing we had. We crashed the stones against the base till the line wasn't sagging any more. From there the plan was to water it every day for a week like it was some kind of plant.

At the end of the job I looked back a what I had created and I saw it was good.