Monday, October 6, 2014

Bird houses - How Andersen Windows makes sure you won't return your faulty door - New poem: Leaf Pickup in Autumn




Scott hung up the bird houses in the back yard. Nothing better than looking out the kitchen window to see if we have any "Free rental for responsible family."

Have I complained yet about going out my kitchen door and into the back yard?

Let me begin.

It's impossible to get out the door. The lock is stuck. The pull-up window is stuck.

Scott found out Why today.

After examining and trying to fix it with the parts Andersen Window sent out, he stored the door in the downstairs family room behind the bar. 


 unrecognizable rust spots

It's all rusted. Andersen Windows use cheap plywood which absorbs water, which then causes RUST to form on all the screws and latches.

We called up the Andersen people, with their broad lazy Minnesota accents, and were advised of what we must do in order for them to send us a new door.

- Mail back the old door

- Photograph the flawed areas and email to them

- Send a record of how long I've lived in this house

- Send my IRS tax form, to confirm the house is mine, plus an electric bill

- Send original invoice from Dave Small who installed everything, including a stairway. See blog post and weep. 


The door was expensive!!!

Any ideas how to deal with this?

*

There's a mental health FILM festival in Boston. If it was in Willow Grove, I would attend. Here's the fascinating agenda. 


*

It's those little moments in life that get ya. Looked out the living room window and thought, Must write a poem about this. Sent myself an email to remind me.

LEAF PICKUP IN THE AUTUMN

Monday morning
leaf pickup
put your biodegradable
bags on the curb
stuff them with once
wondrous
green leaves
raked from the
littered lawn
think not of your own
mortality coming soon

On a nature walk
I crushed
some dangling dead
leaves with my hand
May death be as easy
and, yes, enjoyable
as sprinkling these
scatterings
to the dry hungry
ground below.

The leaf pickup driver
looks out the window of his
shiny green truck –
“Who has something for me”
he thinks, as his men –
two young African-Americans
riding on the back like
tall charioteers
drift off in ecstasy
they feel the autumn
chill and remember when
their dad came home
from work
and pulled them down the
street in
the little red wagon.

*

The nature walk was at Pennypack Trust with Scott. I brought home a persimmon

My animal friends will feast on it for a couple of days.


1 comment:

  1. Dr Russell Eisenman of Univ of TX at Rio Grande writes: In return for your fine poem, here are the words for a song I wrote. I guess it can also be read as a poem. You have to imagine a woman saying it.


    Don’t tell me what clothes to wear
    Don’t tell me how to do my hair
    Don’t talk about wedding plans
    You’re only the garbage man

    I know you drive a big, macho truck
    But I know you don’t give a darn
    You don’t even pick up the trash yourself
    You use a mechanical arm

    So, don’t tell me what clothes to wear
    Don’t tell me how to do my hair
    Don’t talk about wedding plans
    You’re only the garbage man
    --------------------------------------------------

    BTW, here is an insight from the artist who wrote the above, i.e. me. “Garbage man” can be taken either of two ways. Either literally (as an occupation) or figuratively (the guy she has sex with when her husband/boyfriend is not home).

    Love, Russell

    ReplyDelete