Do we have a lightening rod? I ask Ed. I know the answer, but I’m hoping that the question has suggestive value. And a follow up: what would happen if lightening struck the house?
Oh, all the electricals would be fried. Every last one of them. I want to point out that my iPad is not plugged in. It would escape slaughter by electrocution.
And the house?It could burn down.
Ed is so reassuring.
So you’d think it would be a good idea to put on a lightening rod, no?And a thick cable... you’d think. He’s only sounding agreeable.
Another crash. He plugs himself into the computer and leaves me to ponder thunderstorms on my own.
A few minutes later I ask -- so, on a different note, what should we do with the newly formed wasp nest at the porch entrance?
But an occasional wasp gets in.Yes? We can let it out.
I change the subject again. Good weather coming up. Maybe we can move ahead with our outdoor projects. (The front entrance needs a new design and painting the house looms before us too.) He listens politely then returns to his online business program.
Rain. A good indoor day.
I should finish putting in the shelves in the closet.
Yes, a fine idea.
The day passes.
And now it's late afternoon. We bike to get a coffee at the Oasis. Another storm is brewing and I urge us to leave quickly. I want to get back before the rains come down. As I bike, I weigh our earlier conversations. I can’t decide if it’s harder to be a tenant or a landlord at the farmhouse.