The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the FarmCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
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The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the Farm
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
Farms -- Recreational use -- United States -- Fiction; Humorous stories
And the next day the plumber remembers where he left his sack of smoking
tobacco, or the steam fitter's attention is directed to the fact that
when he stuck in the big pipe like a bass tuba he forgot to insert
alongside it the little pipe like a piccolo, and therefore it becomes
necessary to maltreat the already thrice-mangled remains of woodwork. A
month or so later the plasterers arrive--they were due in a week, but a
plasterer who showed up when he was expected or any time within a month
after he had solemnly promised on his sacred word of honor that he meant
to show up would have his card taken away from him and be put out of the
union. Hours after Gabriel has blown his trump for the last call it is
going to be incumbent upon the little angel bell hops to go and page the
plasterers, else they won't get there for judgment at all.
Be that as it may and undoubtedly will be, in a month or so the
plasterers arrive, wearing in streaks the same effects in laid-on
complexion that so many of our leading débutantes are wearing all over
their faces. The chief plasterer looks over the prospect and decides
that in order to insure a smooth and unbroken surface for his plaster
coat the plumbing and the heating connections must have their elbows
tucked in a few notches, which ultimatum naturally requires the good
offices of the carpenter, first to snatch out and afterward to hammer
back into some sort of alignment the shreds and fragments of his
original job. When this sort of thing, with variations, has gone
on through a period of months, a house has become an intricate and
complicated fabric of patchworks and mosaics held together, as nearly as
a layman can figure, by the power of cohesion and the pressures of dead
weights. The amazing part of it is that it stays put. I am quite sure
that our house will stay put, because despite the vagaries--perhaps I
should say the morbid curiosity--of various artificers intent on taking
the poor thing apart every little while, it was constructed of materials
which as humans compute mutabilities are reasonably permanent in their
basic characters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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