cold wakes me. thermostat reveals furnace shd be on but isn't. barefoot in dark I stumble toward the mechanical closet. pilot off. I'm unable to light it. all my tries produce is a tower of burnt matches. must wait for light to call my electrical man. he doesn't know when he can come but he'll call.
I've done this before. there is an uneasiness abt waiting. the mind fails to concentrate. I do a bit of cleaning. I attack my coin jar. I read how beautiful the young Hawthorne was. I don't got to the gym. I don't turn on the computer because the electrical man mite call. I don't go to the store (so I eat eggs for lunch).
the day soon disappears & my stomach tightens. I've done nothing but wait. I hate to wait. I picture myself on my deathbed demanding this day back. the more I think abt it the greater my agitation. I hear my chest scream but the cat doesn't move so I know that the scream isn't real. dinner can't be far away. but can I eat with my stomach in wait mode? will the spinach in my salad slide down my throat? & if the salad doesn't satisfy will I be able to sleep as the house cools down again? will my mind be defining string theory as I attempt to force my eyelids to close?
then he appears. it's 5:30 & I haven't startd to slice the garlic for my salad. he gets the pilot to go on but it won't stay on. he thinks it's a thermocouple. he isn't sure if he'll come back tonite or tomorrow morning.
the wait continues. but I feel all right now. I see the possibility of a conclusion. I can go into the kitchen & prepare the salad.