Rusty Drain

I pulled my 2019 CRV into my garage. Stepped out of the car.

The earth below my feet gave way. I heard an unpleasant cracking sound. Was the apocalypse here? Had an earthquake come to Iowa City?

No, it was just the rusty drain grate crumbling underfoot.

The lone and level sands stretch far away, Ozzy.

***

How long does it take for a grate to rust? I can’t say for sure. My house was built in the 80’s, I believe. I suspect that grate hasn’t been replaced since then.

Time is undefeated, poor grate, and it is time for you to go.

“Should I use AI to find out what we should buy?” I texted my wife Katie.

“NOOOOOO!!!” she texted back.

Katie doesn’t trust the robots. I’ve been using them more and more. Being lulled by their complimentary tone as they plot my downfall.

I uploaded the very picture at the top of this blog to Microsoft Co-Pilot. I asked it what I should buy.

“I’d love to help!” Microsoft Co-Pilot told me. And then it gave me some suggestions.

Step one? Measure the drain.

I took a screenshot of Microsoft Co-Pilot’s advice, and sent it to Katie.

“I told you not to use AI!” she wrote back.

“I didn’t,” I lied. “I wrote that.”

Katie knew I was lying.

“I’ll take care of it,” Katie wrote back. Katie already knew we needed to measure the drain. AI was unhelpful.

Measure the drain, purchase a new grate, and make peace with all of our crumbling empires.

***

The picture at the top of this blog is an artful reminder that all things most pass.

There’s something powerfully artistic about the rusting, crumbling grate. Crumpled leaves. Cracks running through the concrete floor.

Inspired, I am ending this short blog about rusty grates with a haiku:

rusty, crumbling grate

who cares about blood pressure

we’re falling apart

Let’s try another one:

AI offers help

beware flattering serpents

we don’t need their help

One last haiku to send you on your way:

oh, that’s broken too

hadn’t thought of it in years

I guess that’s okay