We have an American Flag on our front porch. I don’t know if it says anything about our patriotism as much as our need to add just a splash of color to the scheme. It usually just drapes, but sometimes it catches the wind and comes to life. I wash it every few months. Nice shiny silver pole with a ball on the top.
It’s a love/hate relationship for me. I can’t stand seeing it either getting wrapped up or worse, looking like a cheap sail on a boat. What I do know for certain is that I cannot start my day without checking the flag’s positioning and making the necessary adjustments. I’ve been rushing out the door to catch the train and I’ll be damned if I didn’t turn around to fix it. I’d miss my train and be late for work. I couldn’t tell them I was late because I’m obsessive compulsive about the way that damn flag is displayed. But it was the truth.
So we had a snowstorm and subsequent ice storm last week. Apparently the very tip of the flag got caught under an ice patch on the roof just about it. So I twisted and turned. I yanked. Then I went inside and got one of the irons from the fireplace and just started whopping the crap out of it like a piñata.
Finally I went to the next floor, crawled through a window and broke up the ice until it was free to fly.
Concern for safety? Zilch.
Neurosis? Satisfied.
So is that flag flying high and mighty? Well actually not. It got all balled up with more ice and I started losing my sh*t. Finally I set it free, removed it from the front porch column and let’s just say it’s on garage probation until springtime.
I need a break. The flag needs a break. My neighbors are starting to look very concerned.