an open letter to our building manager

Dear Sir,

I am writing this letter to acknowledge the fact that I have still not paid the rent that was due the second week of this month. I have almost gathered sufficient funds to meet your pecuniary demands, however I find myself reluctant to turn over these hard-earned banknotes to you. I can't entirely explain it, but I just have this feeling that time is not of the essence in your world. I have this impression that you are one of those ever-so-rare souls who take each day as it comes; that you are a person who doesn't really distinguish between the now and the later and the eternal. In the spirit of peaceful acceptance of time's insubstantiality I humbly propose that perhaps we simply suspend our payment of "rent". What, after all, is money if time is nothing?

I have been richly inspired, also, by your commitment to the environment. Many landlords would do their utmost to keep their properties untouched by the outside world but not you. No, not you. There was the memorable occasion this past year when you kindly allowed mold to spread throughout our bedroom walls underneath the wallpaper. Despite our insistence that the paper and mold be removed, the walls be thoroughly dried out, and then re-papered, you ingeniously suggested that we simply shellac over the offending areas -- thus preserving the mold in its original habitat! We weren't convinced at the time, but now we find ourselves nodding in agreement with your clearly faultless ecological sympathies.

Of course we mustn't forget your zealous commitment to preserving the termites in our apartment even at the cost of your own wood furnishings! How sensitive an etymological enthusiast you are!

Now, as you know, two months ago we experienced a deluge from our living room and dining room ceilings. You may recall my frantic phone call that Thursday morning when my son and I happened to be at home for a public holiday. Would that we had been at school so that we could have let the water flow freely and then come home to an oceanic wave of wetness in the afternoon, but unfortunately we were in residence and stupidly panicked. "Quick! Quick!" I shouted into the mobile phone, "my ceiling lamp is gushing water! Get the plumber and electrician to come here right away!" You tried your best to get me to see the light, "Yes, yes, yes, they will come," you assured me calmly. Fifteen minutes later when the floor was covered in an inch of water and I was hyperventilating with fear that I and my unborn child would be electrocuted, I called you again and finally reconciled myself to your zen approach to what might be seen by some as a disaster. Eventually, the fix-it men came and sawed apart my ceiling. I cheerfully re-arranged a lunch date with a friend visiting from Malaysia and accepted the fact that it would be a few days before I could enjoy a dry floor and a re-plastered ceiling.

But you, once again, have taught me the folly of living by a timetable of expectations. Just this past week, nearly two months after my ceiling was sawn up, I chanced to call you. "Hello," I said, "I have asked you six times to have my ceiling fixed. Could you have it fixed now?" You paused momentarily before asking, "Will you be at home in the morning?" Ah, very right of you to point out what you and I both already know -- I work outside the home in the fruitless pursuit of cold, hard cash instead of staying at home to decay along with my house. "Perhaps on Saturday morning?" I suggested meekly, and you at last agreed. And so it came to pass that my ceiling (but unfortunately not I) got plastered this past weekend. While the plasterers were working I took the opportunity to have them call in the plumbing fellow to look at the leak in our kitchen wall that I have previously mentioned to you and your colleagues on five occasions, one of which took place this past calendar year. The plumbing man went to visit the neighbours (whose shower causes the leak) and reported back that the work had been done.

But man shall not triumph over nature! No indeed, I have learned my lesson. Just yesterday I chanced to be sweeping in the kitchen when I discovered a marvellous fungular treasure growing out from underneath my cabinets. Yes! It was a long-stemmed mushroom! You, in your brilliance, have demonstrated once again the value of simply letting things be. Who are we to move the universe; to insist that it change to meet our demands? Let us sup on fresh-grown mushrooms sprouted in the comfort of our own homes! Let us live with our friends the insects! Let us lie in lichens and mosses and molds! We are at one with mother earth.

Sincerely,

The Lady in 5X

PS: YOU should've been featured in Vanity Fair's green issue. I've written Graydon Carter and he says he's thinking about you for next year's issue. Keep your fingers crossed!

[Bangkok-1-June-2006]