Rule By Fiat

There's an antiquated term for having a transgression committed against you which I kind of like. After said transgression, the victim would say, "Well, this is a fine how do you do!". If I had to guess, I would say it's at least six decades out of date. If it were six years past its peak of common usage, that would be enough to push it out of all significant awareness, but you know that I tend to reach a little further back than that. I don't know that I ever had something happen to me that I would call a 'how do you do' in that fashion until just recently. You'll recall that a repairman came in to do some work. He was merely one of several endeavoring to clear up some loose ends left by occasionally sloppy renovations. Now that I think of it, having had to live in limbo for three weeks before moving into this place, I ought to have come into something a little more polished, but this isn't about that gripe. This is a different gripe.

That repairman of whom I speak had come to get rid of the constant leak in the shower. I let him in and received his message that the work was complete. He offered to show me what he had done, and I politely looked in the area he highlighted without really seeing anything. He advised that we not use the shower for twenty four hours, and we complied. The following afternoon, I took a shower. The old-timey expression came to mind instantly as I found myself really looking at what the man had done for the first time. When we moved in, I decided I liked the knob fixture in there very much. There was the knob for temperature as well as to get the water going, but there was a secondary lever solely for water pressure. I decided I liked that very much, as it made a great deal of sense to have it so.

What do you imagine I found when I went to take a shower with my new friends, the logical and awesome knob and lever? I found them gone! In their place was an unremarkable knob unaccompanied by any lever of any kind. I was quite incensed, and really let that new knob have it. Of course, it wasn't the knob I was mad at, and I realize how unfair it was to vent at it instead of the really responsible party- that repairman. Of course, he is nothing more than an errand boy. Probably I would find ultimate responsibility so high up the chain that I would have to put on a nice outfit to go air my grievance, and let me tell you: the bar is very high as far as how awful a grievance must be before I'll do that to resolve it.

Bob Dylan knew all about this kind of thing. As I complete this, I am listening to his great song 'Dear Landlord'. I'm sure that his inspiration was just this kind of little change to things around the apartment without consulting the renter about the new fixture or have to turn off the water for a few hours. Dylan has always been very sensitive to the plight of the common working man, and I match at least two thirds of those descriptors. Maybe I should make inquiries of him as to what course I should take. I believe he's on tour, but surely he has representation locally who can take my question to him so that he may call me personally at his leisure. I just hope he calls soon. I don't know how long I can put up with these shenanigans.