A few years ago, we installed a whole-house water filtration system to catch some of the sediment and rust that had been seeping in from the deteriorating Baltimore pipelines. This works beautifully, except we never remember to change the filter, or we remember it and put it off, or when we actually set aside time to do it, we encounter unforeseen difficulties. The filter on its own impedes the flow of water enough that we use about one-third less than we normally would without even noticing, but when it starts getting clogged, the pressure creeps ever downward. It came to the point lately where the flow from the upstairs bathtub slowed to a trickle, stopping altogether when someone flushed the toilet. Rob said that taking a shower was like waiting for dewdrops to form, which led me to make a joke about the Dew Drop Inn. (Note to reader: jokes about the Dew Drop Inn do not have quite the hoped for payoff.) These conditions went on for weeks before it fully sank in there was a problem, and for further weeks before we decided to devote fifteen minutes to the simple maintenance that would remedy it.

I don’t know why that sort of thing happens over and over in my life. It’s not that I’m not proactive in many areas, but there are others in which I will cling to obliviousness and its resulting inaction with the tenacity of a limpet. It may have to do with the fantasyland I frequently occupy in which everything works fine and everyone does what he or she is supposed to, thereby freeing me to worry about other things (because not worrying about something is never an option). But in any case, reality has been knocking extra firmly lately. There are things that have to be done that I had hoped would not have to be done if I retreated into fantasyland for as long as possible. Ask Elizabeth I; sometimes this works. But usually, no matter how long it takes, Mary Queen of Scots ends up paying the piper.