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Construction Zone

The dawn of another day crept upon the SoDu. Minute by minute the light grew stronger as it made its way along Coronado Lane until it filtered in the window of my bedroom. It would have awakened me from slumber had I been in bed but I wasn't of course. I'm always up and doing by the time dawn arrives. The early bird I'm sometimes called. Getting around the morning worm and all that.
The sun was dimly conscious of finding my bed empty on previous mornings. I say 'dimly' because it's been some little time since the day began with an appearance from the sun. Spring break for him probably. Doing a little surfing on Top Sail Island I shouldn't wonder. That’s where I’d be given the chance.
I'm told that few things have the tonic effect on a man accustomed to being a little slow to wake as the discovery that he has stolen a prize pig overnight. I would dispute that. I had not stolen such a prize but I was tonic-ed to the gills. I waded through an incoming tide of cats to get to the door of the sal de bains. I opened it and stepped into the tropical environment of Ms. Wonder's bath.
The river pebbles underfoot were slippery and I held to the palm fronds to keep from falling as I made my way to the sound of falling water. Eventually, I found myself on the edge of a deep, clear pool. Eddy the cat was licking a paw and when he saw me gave a yawn and turned his back.
"Don't be smug," I said, "It doesn't suit you." She was seated on a flat boulder in the middle of the bath, not too near the plunging water. I called to her above the roar of the falls.
"Wonder," I said, "Hell's foundations are shaking."
She turned the water off so we could hear each other.
"What?" she said.
"We've got to rally round Tiger," I said, "She needs us."
"Why? What's wrong?" she said.
"I’ll tell you what’s wrong," I said, "She’s headed for a rubber room at the laughing academy, that's what's wrong."
“I will not listen to that kind of talk,” she said. “You of all people should be more considerate. How would you like it if people spoke of you like that? Remember, people who live in glass houses.”
I mused on this for a moment but could not think of a single person silly enough to live in such a house.
This is probably a good time to pause and offer five cents of backstory for the newcomers. This Tiger mentioned above is my very best closer-than-a-sister friend. She has never abandoned me no matter how dark the skies nor threatening the v-shaped depressions. I’m sure you will fully understand my concern over her recent bizarre behavior.
“Just tell me why you’re concerned about Tiger,” she said.
“First,” I said, “let me warn you that what I’m about to say includes depictions of graphic violence.”
She waved a hand indicating that I had the floor and should continue.
“As you well know,” I said, “This Tiger is no stranger to wild, impulsive behavior. I mean she rides a motorcycle for one thing and she is married to the Cowboy, which tells you something right there.”
 
Her eyes met mine and we shared a meaningful look.
 
“But until recently, her behavior has been confined to the normal range of lunacy. In the last few days, however, and follow me very closely here because this is the seminal point, that has all changed.”
 
“Imagine if you will, Tiger lounging on the sofa watching marathon episodes of Murder She Wrote.”
 
“Yes,” agreed the Wonder, “or Big Bang.”
 
“As you say, Murder She Wrote or The Big Bang Theory. Doesn’t matter which. Then during the commercial break, she rises from the couch to wander aimlessly into the kitchen and then suddenly she whirls around and, with a kung-fu shout, rips the door off a wall cabinet and throws it out the window.”
 
I thought this statement might get a reaction out of her and I was not wrong. She stared at me for several seconds as though waking from a dream. Then slowly her eyes grew larger and rounder. Her lips parted as though she would speak but nothing came out.
 
“I haven't been there to witness this behavior but she speaks openly of it, as though it were just everyday behavior. Imagine how difficult it must be for the Cowboy to come home from work each day and deal with the aftermath.”
 
The Wonder remained silent.
 
“In a recent episode, she ripped a cupboard off the wall. I know! When I spoke to her about it, she mumbled something and I can't be absolutely sure of this but I believe she has plans to tear out the sink.”
 
“The sink?” she said.
 
“In the beginning, she must have known something wasn't quite right about her behavior because she didn't speak of it in public. Now she posts pictures on Facebook! I am very worried.”
 
“But how did all this begin?" she asked. "I mean there’s usually some gateway behavior isn’t there? Childhood tea parties leading to binge drinking at the corner tavern—that sort of thing?”
 
“Well," I said, "we can never be sure about causal relationships, can we? Still, I think this must surely have something to do with the Cowboy falling through the kitchen ceiling.”
 
“I’m sorry?” she said.
 
“Oh he’s unhurt,” I said. “Nothing to worry about. Just a few scratches.”
 
“I mean,” she said, and I thought she seemed to be hotting up, “what or why did he fall through the ceiling?”
 
“Well, you’ve got me there, not really sure but you know the Cowboy—he works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. The point is, he crashed through the kitchen ceiling and something must have clicked inside her. I think she's out of control.”
 
“I know she would stoutly deny it if asked. Probably say that she can stop anytime she likes. You know how that story goes. But I'm not buying it. I'm convinced that she's in the grip of a disorder. If it feels good to knock off a cabinet door, then it will bring joy unconfined to smash the countertops with a sledgehammer. If pulling a cupboard down lightens the heart, then pushing the fridge off the back porch will bring ecstasy. Where does it all stop?”
 
“I think an intervention is called for,” she said and I thought the drama was a bit thick but her heart was in the right place.
 
“My thoughts too,” I said.
 
And so the Wonder and I put together a plan to call all our friends, confront Tiger before she leaves for work this morning, and get her into rehab at Habitat For Humanity Restore. Life comes hard and fast, as I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but we can get through the hard times if we only stick together.
 
You’ve been here for us, Tiger, and we will be there for you. Count on it.