Bittersweet Symphony

I have a kindred connection
with inanimate objects in my home.
I believe that my surroundings
are a direct reflection of what is happening within me.

For example,
our air conditioner is very needy.
I'll spare you the boring details
but basically, it takes constant maintenance
to keep the damn thing from dripping
through the ceiling onto the kitchen floor.

My husband is really handy
around the house
and has managed to keep our
crummy air conditioning alive.
He has fought a constant
battle with "the drip" as we have come to call it
for the last 3 years.

I am campaigning for a new one, trust me.

He insists on crawling up in
the attic and tinkering with it
until the drip stops.
Then, he swears that he will
climb up in the attic every weekend
to do some preventative maintenance
to keep us drip free.

A few weeks will go by
and all is well with the damn air conditioning.
So, we ease up on checking it
and pat ourselves on the back
that we defeated the leak.

I know that trouble is brewing
when I hear
drip
drip
drip
coming from the kitchen.

I grab pot after pot after pot
to catch the water
and it sounds like a symphony
as each droplet plops into the pot.
It's the music of neglect.
Our stupid air conditioning leak
is a perfect udometer
to let me know when I've lost momentum in my life.

The drip returns when we
become complacent.
You can bet that if the kitchen has pots on the floor
that I also have an unpaid water bill somewhere.
When I can't cook dinner
because every pot I own
is on the floor collecting water,
it's a bad sign.

"The Drip" is me and I am "The Drip".