My wife is also a writer, and last year she got an assignment to write about feng-shui'ing our house–the Chinese science/religion of design and energy. I was livid. We were about to put our house on the market, and we had a contract on another house. So not only did I have construction to manage, and perform, on the new place, whenever we got it, I also had to fix up a lot of stuff on the old house just to put it on the market. Anyone who's owned an old house knows what I'm talking about.
And I already knew what my wife's article would involve. Move this here, build a shelf here. Put a brick wall here because of x,y,z. A friend of mine had gotten her house fengshui'd in Ohio and she'd had to put up lolly columns under one end because the expert was worried about negative space there that had to be "cured." I had no time to be doing this kind of stuff and I was simply enraged, with that rare righteous blast you get around once a year or two in a marriage, when you know you've got her dead to rights. My wife apologized a lot, but when I asked her if she could postpone it, etc., till we had the new house, she said No.
About 16 months ago the expert arrived at our house. I stayed in my office with the door closed I was so angry. I heard the tinkle of women's voices from the kitchen, the tintinnabulation of the tea cups. After a time the tour began, and I heard the footsteps, and the sweet agreeing here and there. My wife can get along with anyone. She could give Idi Amin a tour, and he'd be smiling.
Then my wife knocked and opened the door, and I looked up angrily. The expert was redheaded and fairskinned, elegant. Here's Catherine's website. My wife said something propitiatory–"Phil I've explained your issues–" I saw an empathetic face–a cop's daughter, a former actress. I said, "Look I have nothing against you, it's the timing."
Catherine was not even listening, just looking around my office with a tragic expression. She turned to my wife. "Now I know why you called me," she said. "You called me to help him."
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. I have terrible order issues. I sometimes don't have time to tie my shoes. Catherine was going to change all that. She did my chart, she studied my spaces. She explained how desperately I need order. She came up with a simple plan. I needed a northwest corner to work in. I should be facing the door, not with my back to the door. I needed a lot more air, a ton more air, but also seclusion. I'm a snake. Have beautiful things around you but be careful how often you go out. Easily wounded… easily wounding.
By the time I began fixing up this house I was emailing Catherine regularly and faxing her my drawings for this office, which used to be the garage. How big a window? Does my back go against the north wall or the west wall? Where does the door go… How does 15-x-12 sound? Etc.
Catherine's advice has already worked out for me. My office is a lot cleaner, I'm happier. There's a chair in the corner someone can actually sit down in when they come in to say hi. My work is going well, I seem to have a better sense of what is important and what is trivial, what goes first, and what is not to be included at all. Composition is all about order.
I still have big issues. I'm writing this because the other day for some stupid reason I happened to see a video of my wife talking with Catherine, and she said the "money" spot in your house is the far left hand corner with respect to the front door. I'd forgotten that. I walked to that fateful corner. There was an old wooden lamp I bought in Essaioura there, with no shade on it, unplugged. I promptly put it in a closet.
I have trouble with money. Right now I have to do some paying work. I don't know how much blogging I'm gonna do. I'm going to try and hang in there but I can't be sure of output. Blogging is consuming. It's the greatest thing that ever happened to journalism and it's also a hard road. I'm trying to work out a deal with a foundation but who knows. I will keep readers posted; and yes I'm going to file when I can. I am sorry if I am not as attentive to emails with great news tips in days to come.
Meanwhile, Catherine's coming to visit us in a week or two. I can't wait…
Pick your political fights is up there with prioritize your office design.
wonderful. I like these stories. Although I have problems with "assimilation" but that has much to do with the Jewish assimiliation over here in the 19 and 20 century over here.
with the Jewish assimilationist experience in Germany starting in the 19th century.
You can solve your money problems by writing a fictionized novel, a political thriller about your favorite subject…jews, assimilated jews, zionist and Israel.
You (and perhaps your group of similar jews) can be the hero(s) and the zionist the protagonist.
You can be the sauve thin man character who moves easily in and out of jewish and non jewish societies and happens upon a plot that threatens everything…your jewish feelings, your country,….you agonize over what to do and then how to do what you know you must….along the way everything you thought you knew is turned upside down and inside out, friends and foes are interchangable and figuring out trust becomes the only way you will get out of this and save the day….. the rest of the plot is up to you.
Good luck.
LOL, Phil, that is hilarious, your post put a big grin on my face. I went through a somewhat similar experience, although I still can't stand hiding the trash cans, so damn inconvenient. Thanks for sharing, and kudos to your wife for her persistence.
"There's a chair in the corner someone can actually sit down in when they come in to say hi."
Why don't you create there the Witty endowed chair of rural zen stalking studies. You will be happy to get your fundings from the wittycist and he will be happy sitting there all day long talking endlessly about how your life has become a deplorable failure because of your anti-zionist and assimilationist inclinations.
Principle no 1 in rural zen stalking. Never let anything distract you. Always stay on message:
Pick your political fights is up there with prioritize your office design.
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Anonymous do some of us have similar problems?
There is more that feels very familar. Shutting yourself out but then straining your ears to hear.
the tintinnabulation of the tea cups.
and this:
Catherine was not even listening, just looking around my office with a tragic expression.
absolutely hilarious.
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