Our worst fears confirmed, our worst suspicions become a reality, when upon our return from Christmas the piano shop was deserted. Now, where were those tools? What about that job site that Harvey Robinson (master disaster carpenter) was working at? And why did he leave behind food, and the pictures of his kids? And why isn’t that refrigerator working? And where are those antique chisels that our friend Clayton had loaned him? And did he really leave behind a half carved wild pig out of oak in our front room? And what is all this crap everywhere? Is this a Texas style joke?
Did he really leave us his stinky boots???
Then the ultimate cruel joke (in our situation), he actually hauled in a piano and took it apart in the shop! We now have one (1) more piano to move through this world. How ’bout a one way ticket to the dump?!!
Well, I am just naive enough to spend another few days calling his cellphone. And, although it wasn’t disconnected, it just rang and rang and rang. Don’t tell me he was filtering his calls! What?!! People DO THAT?
On the one hand, it is so great that he is gone, on the other, it is unbelievable that he stayed in our shop for 5 months for free, and left it a total mess and no thank you. Now I know how my parents felt. ‘cept my childhood sentence lasted for 18 years. Oh boy, maybe I just took 5 months off of my children’s future parent directed puberty driven freakout. I don’t yet understand how all this works.
Gee, another old man's desk to clean off in this lifetime.
Back to work I go. Cleaning, torturing myself on what gets tossed, and what is a timeless masterpiece, a hidden treasure, an ebay success story. All the while being chased by the monster of clutter, and what happens to people who don’t get rid of anything. I desperately don’t want to be that person! Help Help Help!!!!
And of course, I changed the locks. And after going down the list of all the pawn shops in town, I was lucky. I found my tools (and Clayton’s) at the second pawn shop I went to. I had filed a police report on the missing things, and sure enough, those cops hadn’t even assigned anyone to my case. Granted, a person missing tools from a known suspect is an everyday occurrence out there in the real world, but somehow when it happens to you, you expect the lady at the police department to say something more sensitive than, “and you are just NOW reporting this?”. It would be nice if 10 cops would run out of the back room with their hands on their holsters and run past you, on their way to fight for justice. For what is right. To get that thief!
The unfinished dream, headed the wrong direction.
Then, a word on what it might be like to be a 50 year old addict and con man. Is it really his only choice? He seemed willing to work, but no one, and I mean NO ONE would hire this man. Of course, except us, and that was only two weeks of cash. Was it because of his darkness, or was it because of this terrible economy? I don’t know. Zac considers this a contribution to people who are having a much worse time than we are. Like a mandatory donation to the down and out. As if the next ten people who ask me for money on the street I can say no to and not rack up any bad karma.
I’m just glad he is gone, and I hope I can get the smell of a Hillbilly out of my shop.