Old So What

  Every time he shows up, he trips over the cat. (I suspect the cat is starting to see the humor in this.) The cat weighs 28 lbs. and there’s a lot of her to walk around. He has left a lot of chores half done, a lot of jobs up in the air.  The Repairman, not the cat.  At last count, there is still some junk in the basement, from the previous owner, last occupying the house forty years ago, that he still has not carted out through the cellar door.   There are floorboards in the hall that poke up just enough to catch my shoe every time I pass them.   And the doorknob on the master bedroom door keeps falling off. (Although he has worked on it several times through the years.) He did unclog the sink, and a good job he did, too.   And he unstuck the bedroom storm window just in time for the change of seasons. He repaired the carpeted wooden window seat for my fur babies, but not before it fell off and broke my middle toe.   I’m not kidding because...