The most fascinating feature of Chateau Squalor is easily the shower.
Basic physics says that if hot and cold water run through the same pipe at the same time warm water will result. Yet these antiquated, thumping pipes manage to line the extremes up like orderly schoolchildren standing in a perfectly spaced line. It doesn't matter how early you get up. It doesn't matter how long the shower.
It's an appropriate way to start my days of late.
Every Monday night I am so glad to be here. Buffalo feels like home during Mary's Soup Kitchen Jam and it's hard to believe I didn't know any of the people there just a month ago. Every payday I wonder what the hell I'm doing.
But the paycheck is hardly an issue during a wonderful performance or when one of my projects makes a difference. I tell myself I'm working for so much more than wage and truly believe it, until the boss scolds me like an incompetent child. I get grand promises for the future and a daily dose of more of the horrible same.
Conversations are full of the collapse of the local economic infrastructure and the good old days. Over coffee with cousin Bernie last night (another opportunity I'm not sure how I lived without for the last 24 years) he talked about how the majority of the companies he has sold to over the past 20 years are gone. The news is full of government cutbacks, tax hikes and vanishing services.
But I see the glorious history and gorgeous architecture and hear the voices of those who believe this area can turn around. I want to be part of that, I tell Bernie.
"What if I leave and miss the chance to be part of a solution?" I ask.
"You'll have to deal with all the pigs," he says.
"The pigs?"
"All the flying pigs."
So I'm pursuing other options, closer to home, but still a distance from the things I love here.
I never enjoyed the hot climate of the South.
I just want to be someplace where it's warm some of the time.

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs