Recently, the stained brown u-bend thingy under the kitchen sink, suddenly switched from regular drip which I can cope with by having a bucket in the drawer, to out and out flood mode. I hadn’t finished contending with the washing machine pipe backing up all over the fridge room floor yet – this had meant pouring lots of lessive de soude and boiling water down the pipe, and down the drain outside. I also had to stick the hose down the outside drain as far as it would go, to try and dislodge that white sludge we all know is down there, even if  we can’t see it. A filthy smelly job.

So when I found water all over the kitchen floor from the broken u- bend, I started bawling my eyes out, and phoned a friend. She dealt with it very well – calm and professional – she’d make a good Samaritan – she didn’t make me feel at all like I was a weirdo for sobbing down the phone. She said she would find her plumber’s number and phone me back.

That chapter had a happy ending, as I managed to find the lovely handyman who has done work for us before, and he not only came over within a few hours, but also went to Castorama which is like B&Q in England and whatever you have in the States, to buy the necessary kit – and he didn’t charge me anything – unless you count the 10€ change from the 20 I gave him. So that’s all hunky-dory. But there’s always some other fucker waiting to get you, isn’t there?

On Sunday, the electricity tripped a couple of times – no problem – my son went down to the basement and switched the disjoncteur back on. But then on Sunday night it went off again. I went down and put it back on. And that was fine. For twenty minutes.

I went downstairs, taking my phone torch and a candle for back-up this time – the dog wasn’t interested. The fuse board is at the end of a long dark room with bare brick walls and a concrete floor. Suitcases, books, rugs, toys and other important mouldy stuff are piled up on either side – there are adjoining rooms and passages, so plenty of spooky corners and creepy shapes! This time when I pushed the button-switch, it jumped back out, and wouldn’t stay in as it should, even after three attempts. The fuse board is over forty years old and hanging off the wall; it has those big porcelain fuses, and looks like it couldn’t possibly work, but that’s another story.

I walked back to the other end of the room, and shone my mobile phone torch down on to the control panel of the hot water tank. Aha! There was something shiny – obviously moisture. Back to the fuse board to  switch off the hot water tank. Then I went upstairs to get the WD40 – I read the back of the spray can to reassure myself. Yes, it’s supposed to chase away humidity and make electrical contacts work – heck, you don’t want me to translate the bloody thing, do you? It’s in French.

As I squatted down to peer at that little electrical contact thingy perched on the bottom of the cylinder, I saw water dripping just behind it. Well no amount of WD40 was going to sort that out. Electricity terrifies me, but water and electricity together? No thanks! I reminded myself that I had switched the tank OFF, so was unlikely to be found weeks later fried on the basement floor. I put some kitchen paper there to catch the drips, and pushed the cables to the side, so that the water and the cables wouldn’t spark up an acquaintance.

The story so far is, I’m not quite sure whether I need a plumber or an electrician; the water will almost certainly be too cold for a shower in the morning, so I will have to go next door to my son’s apartment – I’m hoping some frantic cleaning has gone on since I mentioned yesterday I might need to have a shower in there. And that’s it really. I think it’s a plumber I need, so I’d better hurry up and find one. I shall update you on the inevitably happy ending to this chapter.

We all know a do-er or three – or perhaps you are one? Leave quietly now, please. (Just kidding – we’re a friendly little group here, made up of………me).

The do-ers are the ones with the ironing done, the car cleaned, the papers sorted,  the plants planted, the cards posted, the emails replied to, the big food shopping done, the debts repaid, the dog walked, the dog wormed, the dog vaccinated, the house tidied, the holes filled, the cracks sealed, the walls painted, the wiring re-done, the heating installed, the money earned to re-do the wiring and install the heating –

AND – they work out, they socialize, they mingle, they meet, they travel, they go skiing, they break a leg and wish they hadn’t gone skiing, they can no longer drive and have to find someone else to ferry them around, they can’t clean the car or tidy the house so have to delegate, which must be hard for them because they’re used to being in charge. I can see a moral trying to scrabble it’s way out of the filth here. Not sure if it’s don’t go skiing, or something else.

Much as I like being a be-er rather than a do-er, sadly for us (that’s me and my follower, who is no longer following because she hasn’t fixed her computer, and you of course – although you is currently fictitious), the world is not sympathetic to the dreamers and dawdlers, the undecided, the ditherers, the anxious and fearful, the procrastinators – though there’s a ray of hope!

A lot of books on writing (ok, the three or four that I have read) talk about procrastination, and what a problem it is for writers, and ways of overcoming it – which of course I can’t remember. I think it’s usually something like: Just write. Any old thing to begin with, and after a few minutes of that you’ll suddenly find you’re J.K.Rowling – but procrastination is a respectable occupation – hang on, if you’re putting things off, you’re not occupied are you? That one’s making me feel sick – too complicated.

So if you’re feeling guilty for procrastinating all the time – for not having paid the electricity bill because that involves yet more phone calls to the electricity company and the bank, for not having taken your sewing machine to be fixed, for not having looked at flights for Christmas – don’t be too hard on yourself. It seems like the do-ers rule the world, but without the be-ers, there would be no need to differentiate, so there wouldn’t be do-ers.
You are probably a sensitive person, a good listener, and my favourite – an ARTIST!

It doesn’t matter if  you haven’t found your “thing” – though I do envy people who have.
While the do-ers are whizzing around in an endless spin cycle, getting everything done, and then doing it all again, we are noticing the reds and oranges of a leaf, the brown tinge on a beetle, the way the light through the window makes shadows on the curtains like a pastel drawing, the tick of the clock; we notice the grey clouds and how they affect our mood, how the flowers and plants along the same stoney path change from one day to the next. In short, we are in the moment! We’re ahead of the game here. People are giving courses on mindfulness, and writing books about it, but we’ve been there for years. We were born appreciating the sound of wood pigeons, or the different layers of a perfume. We are the silent majority – ok, maybe that’s a bit strong, but it fits what’s going on at the moment with Trump and all.

The important thing is to be happy, and do-ers win here too unfortunately. Getting things done does make you feel better. If you’re a chronic procrastinator, then I suggest you start with your clothes. I looked it up online recently – there’s a book written by a Japanese woman – I don’t know the title, and I’m not after click-throughs (yet), but it’s called something obvious, like How to Tidy.

She says clothes are the easiest, and she’s right – I managed to weed out a shopping bagful from my wardrobe recently. Her criteria is “Does this spark joy?”. Well, I’m English and we don’t really do joy, so I asked myself “Does this make me feel happy?” as I held each item of clothing. You’re then supposed to say Thank you to your torn shirt or bright pink scarf before putting it in the throw/charity bag. You’ll be surprised at what you find. I couldn’t believe I had kept a shrunken black cardigan that wouldn’t even cover my back. The next easiest category is books, according to her.

Look, we all know do-ers are a pain in the butt, but (sorry about all the posteriors) we can learn from them. And it might be hard for us to activate, but look at all the things they miss out on. As there seems to be a growing interest in learning mindfulness, which must be aimed at the do-ers, we have the reassurance of already being mindful – plus we save money. To spend on learning something that is so natural to us, seems ridiculous.
I think the trick for us is to Be whilst doing – maybe not as hard as it sounds.
“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so” William Shakespeare