they're coming

today someone saw a MUTE SWAN and 22 COMMON GOLDENEYES on the Chicago River. these migratory waterfowl will likely be leaving us soon for the frostier northern climes...but in their place will be all sorts of songbirds! i don't know, there was a severe rawness to the wind today, as if it could pare off my facial skin, and a few superfluous snowflakes that whipped themselves at my head as i got off the train. but the planet is angling itself sunward again, the light is getting stronger, and somehow i didn't feel as desperate for better gloves as i normally do in such weather.
last night's class was all about Kafka, that writing that constantly puts a trapdoor under you, only to make you fall dizzyingly into a room exactly like the one you were just in. so perfect for the day i'd had! i'd gotten up, helped S. with the leg, gotten breakfast, gotten a tad bit of work done, watered the plants, helped S. with the visit from the physical therapist, gotten him back into bed after she left, gotten lunch, and THEN...as i was preparing to go to class, S. announced that he was ready to use the bedpan.
and...how shall i put this delicately? he used it.
and it was...a LOT.

so, kind of without looking, as much as that was possible, i dumped its contents into the loo.

and flushed.

the mass clogged the pipe. i held my breath. the water rose. i waited. so far so good.

i flushed again.

and the entire thing exploded. holding a bucket, desperately bailing from the bowl, screaming and cursing, i watched as the spill spread. S. shouted to me from his bed to get the mop: thanks, dude. THANKS. I got the mop and started mopping, realized the futility of this, grabbed three rolls of paper towels and started soaking it directly off the floor. my shoes were drenched. S. called the landlady , who said her husband was in the house, and i could ask him to borrow the plunger, which i did, and then i just finished sopping everything up, sprayed Lysol all over EVERYTHING, rinsed it once with the mop, and went off to class. Someone said I looked like a ghost as she plopped down into her chair next to me. i shook my head and listened as Kafka talked about the herculean fatigue of the man who has just cleaned the corner of his office.

p.s.--when i first arrived for class, i went into the bathroom to collect my thoughts. as i stood in the stall and leaned my head against the cold metal door, the automatic toilet flushed once...twice...thrice. in my ears it sounded like a gong.

p.p.s.--on the train ride back home, a man across from me was reading. the book was Kafka's The Metamorphosis. True story.