fill

I found it harder than expected to find a woman (and I’m not the only one) . Everybody said they knew somebody, but nothing came of any of it. I felt railroaded and disappointed, but also determined to see the situation as the opportunity it was: I said I would be the woman. I told my boss I wasn’t coming back. And what did he care? I’d already signed my resignation.

But then things started to happen. I spent a week interviewing various women, foreign and domestic, on the phone, and in person. And then I hired one. She started yesterday. I’m afraid to say much more about that.

Just after Christmas, the house got shelves, lots of shelves, floor to ceiling and all the way around one room. The boxes that were being hideously stored behind the yellow couch were emptied, and about half the shelves were filled with their contents. The rest of the shelves, practically one whole wall, even now, remain empty. Personally, I like them that way. It’s silly to like an empty shelf, but I see a promise in them, of more books, more stuff. Or maybe an absent burden. The shelves alone are imposing. Everyone has to comment on them, and inevitably, the fact that so many are empty. “As a man,” said one guest last weekend, “when I see something empty, I want to fill it.” The implications of this continue to boggle my mind.


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By the way, since I don’t know why I’m blogging now or when I’ll blog again, I wanted to take the opportunity to mention the post Thomas wrote about certain parts of my city. It’s lovely.