Lots of religions have the notion of household gods–deities who aren’t in charge of the vast universe, but who tend to small things like broken dryers and clogged sinks. Even the Catholic saints take on additional duties, like finding your car keys or selling your house. Perhaps the impulse to wish for extra support, not just with the big things, but with the small, is universal.
In the past few weeks, my household gods have failed me completely. Perhaps they’ve withered from lack of attention like all my plants eventually do.
In any case, I’ve endured visits from both Roto-rooter ($337.00) and the heating guy ($287.00). For three weeks a smoke alarm with a dying battery beeped somewhere deep in the recesses of the house while Bill and I took turns searching for it. And Bill spent all of last Saturday going from hardware store to hardware store looking for salt and a tool to get the ice off the front steps. They face due north, get no sun at all, resemble a frozen waterfall and are just as easy to climb.
After each little hiccup, I am afraid to think that this run of –what? It’s way too much to call it bad luck—maybe bad inconvenience—is over. I am eyeing our cars and the rest of our major appliances with suspicion.
Perhaps I will begin a program to attract new household gods, but where do they come from? Can they be purchased like warrantees or do they have to be lured? Maybe an ad in the personals–
Wanted: Minor god to sweat the small stuff for us. Comfortable home, at least when the heat and toilets are working. Inhabitants are friendly and mellow—except when they are not. Only independent, self-sufficient deities need apply.