The Bat Cave.2

When Francisco was putting together his two white Ikea bookshelves many years ago, he left the backs off, thinking it would make them look nicer (aesthetic considerations rank very highly for Francisco). Well, it turns out that those backs (and/or securing the bookshelves to the wall) helps keep them standing tall and straight. For the majority of the time that Francisco and I have known each other, the bookshelves have been standing at a 65 degree angle, held up, apparently, primarily by a thermostat on the wall. (Francisco said that he would say that they weren't leaning at a 65 degree angle, but that they were "leaning slightly.") In his defense, he put some nails into the wall before I moved in so that the bookshelves would stand up straight, in order to avoid the feeling that you're in the heart of a cargo ship, with the boat shifting every which way.

Then there's the fondue pot--we found it on the free shelf in Francisco's apartment building. (How wonderfully communal is it to have a free shelf?!) Well, the fondue pot has about a thousand pieces to it, and we don't have anywhere to put it at the moment. Right now it's stuck in a bowl (a lovely bowl--thanks, Frankincense!) under a chair near the desk. The problem it, the thermostat is behind the desk. Every time one of us reaches behind the desk to adjust the thermostat, we kick the fondue pot. (Ok, ok, this only happens when Francisco reaches.) (Ok, fine: I also kicked it a couple of times.)

I literally never understood before this what Mrs. Bennett was complaining about in Pride and Prejudice when she said, "My nerves, my nerves." ("... You have no compassion on my poor nerves." Mr. B: "On the contrary, my dear--they've been my good friends these 20 years.") And now I know exactly what nerves are because they scream out each of the many times each day that the pot gets kicked.

Finally, there's the bed. When I met Francisco, he slept on a futon that was a bit broken. Over the course of our relationship, the frame crumbled underneath him. For a time, he slept just on the futon mattress on the floor. For me, he bought a metal bed frame on Amazon, which is supposed to replace box springs. We sleep on the futon mattress on top of that. This, as you might guess, is sometimes the cause of shooting pains up my hamstrings and back. I'd like to do some yoga to strengthen my back, but the problem is, there isn't space in our tiny, packed apartment for yoga.

I record this here in the off chance that someday, as a result of declines in my memory, I feel nostalgia for the Bat Cave. I will probably feel nostalgia almost immediately for the roof and the neighborhood, but I doubt for the Bat Cave itself.