Brought Down by a Stove

There is this grubby little shop I go to to buy used appliances. Their stuff is cheap, sturdy, professionally refurbished, and they give short term guarantees on their stuff. I went there today to get a replacement stove for a rental unit. The shop is in a part of town near the industrial section and it's a bit worn looking and grungy. It was very cold outside today. It was hard enough going out in that. Every chilly blast can remind me of my old hometown. And then to see people wearing knit ski caps - in Florida!!!... I had to work very hard not to come unwound. Then there is the problem of some of the trees at this time of year. Some of them that seem to belong up north are a little confused and think it's fall. I don't like that. I tried to concentrate on the palms, but they are in short supply over by the appliance shop. I was already disturbed when I got there, but there was a certain amount of relief in the fact that I did manage to get there, so I went inside.

They leave the doors propped open in there because people are in and out with large, bulky items. It was very cold. The shop is totally no frills. The walls are mostly unpainted cinder block, the floors are bare concrete with marks from workers having spray-painted appliances without laying down tarp to cover the floor. There is one main area in the middle which serves as the sales floor for those items that are ready for sale. Those waiting to be repaired are off toward the back and over on the side is another area where repairs are underway. The side area has big sliders that open onto an outdoor deck where things are pressure washed and items like washing machines that could cause flooding are tested for leaks. I was in the side area with the workers today so I could test the performance of the stove before I bought it. I was very uncomfortable and anxious, but I managed to handle it quite well and had been getting on fine. The owner's son offered to put a new bake element in it for me. Of course I accepted his offer. He did it right there while I waited and the shit started to hit the fan then.

It was because of the cold. And the bare concrete and cinder block. And the tools and materials stacked up in the work area. And then the pressure washer guy who was testing a washer tub on the deck struck up a conversation with me near the slider. I spoke to this man, who was bundled up in a jacket and wore a ski cap on his head. I looked out past him. The other men were dressed like that, too. Of course they were dressed like they were freezing their asses off, because they were. They just had no idea that in my mind, we were all freezing our asses off, but not in Florida. No. We had ever so sneakily begun to do it in the old hometown instead. I looked past them and noticed the land beyond the shop's property; the confused trees, the fence line, and suddenly... things got worse. I was looking out from the kitchen window of the grandparents' house. I wandered away from the sliding door and back to the repair area, which had become the grandparents' cellar. I didn't know where to go or what to look at. Nothing was safe. Kitchen window, backyard, carport, cellar. Kitchen window, backyard, carport, cellar. Hell house. I hate that fucking house. I could hear and feel my heart pounding inside my chest and I began to feel faint. "I don't feel well." I didn't know I had said it out loud at first. It took a minute to sink in. It was just the barest whisper and it seemed that no one heard. I was grateful. I wanted to go home, but I couldn't just yet. I had to fight it off and get my stove. I have future rents to protect.

Finally, when I was paying at the desk in the office, I noticed the old accent had crept into my speech. I didn't want it there, but I was powerless to ditch it. Then I saw myself from up high. I saw this woman in a tattered trench coat and dark glasses with her hair wrapped into a tight roll behind her and I wondered what had happened. It's been a panicky day. Very, very bad day. I was exhausted by the time I got home and I had to go to bed. I just needed to be asleep. My husband cooked for me when I got up. The cooking smells... the grandparents' kitchen was waiting for me. A total shit day, but I got my fucking stove. If only my tenants knew what I go through just to do the simple things to hold my end of the deal. If they only knew... they would probably pack their shit immediately so they wouldn't have to rent from a nutcase. I hate my family. I hate them all. The only useful thing they gave me was good DNA. They suck big green donkey dicks. Fuckers.