No good ever comes of this

I should have known better. I am the least domestic woman on the planet, and every move I make in that direction ends up being ill fated.

You know that plate in the microwave? The one that spins your Lean Cuisine around as you nuke it? Well mine was slowly becoming encrusted with light brown … stuff. Upon closer inspection, so was the oven itself. So yesterday morning, in a surge of enthusiasm that is so unlike me, I scrubbed both the oven and the plate clean. Feeling accomplished and virtuous, I went on to feed the cats.

I noticed that the bag of catfood, kept in a lower cabinet that is near (but not directly under) the sink, was damp. I figured my hands were still wet from all the sudsy scrubbing. Then, as I returned the bag, I felt an undeniable mist. It was drizzling in my kitchen cabinet.

It seems that my pipes are leaking. Something I never would have noticed if I hadn't tried to channel my inner Martha Stewart yesterday.

My building is nearly 50 years old. These things happen. By why NOW? As the holidays approach, as I'm preparing to have all my windows replaced, as I'm getting ready to go on vacation. I really, most emphatically, do not need this now!

Where's the common ground?

According to the popular saying, what unites us is greater than what separates us. I'd like to believe that. But I saw something on the el this morning that makes me wonder …

A very loud – but not unhappy – unkempt man wearing layers of mismatched clothes got on. He stood in the middle of the aisle and carried on an animated conversation with no one in particular. He wasn't preaching the gospel or asking for money. He wasn't angry or hostile. He didn't seem to care that we had all averted our eyes and were ignoring him. He just enjoyed delivering his monologue about nothing in particular to no one specific.

A few stops down the line a thirtysomething woman got on our car. She was wearing a beautiful red coat, carrying a matching red umbrella, and speaking just as animatedly as he was, but to someone. On her slim cellphone. She had one of those gamine haircuts – think Demi Moore in Ghost – that require regular, careful upkeep if you want to maintain the shape. (Trust me on this; I tried it and my hair grows too fast and is simply too unruly.)

So what do these two have in common? She was taking the el to a specific destination; I believe he was getting in from the rain. She was talking to someone about holiday plans; he was talking to no one about nothing. She exercised care in selecting her wardrobe; I wager he was wearing everything he owned. The only thing I could see that they shared was that they were the two liveliest, most awake people on our train during our morning commute.