"On Home Maintenance"
There is a stranger washing the windows of my house. I close the curtains, hide in our windowless bathroom, in the tub as though there were a fire, and there probably is a fire somewhere, except it is raining, so fire season is pushed aside. I had meant to wash them myself but ladders are another thing I’m afraid of, like the cars of strangers when they unload their own ladders as though they were moving in. I want to direct them to the house across the street; don’t see this one. How come children’s books are full of heroes who can turn invisible, when that power would be so much more useful in adult life? Some people are meant to care about homes, and others are the kind where strangers show up to wash the windows or mend the fence. Those kind of people are the ones who hide in the porcelain tub, leafing through a magazine stolen from the shrink’s office.