How to be stoic (or not, as the case may be)

Brooklyn's dreaming gargoyles should be a distant dream now, but this was obviously not to be .

Our new Brooklyn tenants were to arrive this weekend, to a seamless handover to be handled by our amazing property manager Kirsten. Instead, on literally the eve of their arrival, there was a flood in the basement (unprecedented in all the time we lived there) which now seems to require mould/de-humidification measures. In addition, a few days before we were to leave, Bibi (our now ex-cat) had contracted fleas - which creatures left the ankles of my mother, S. and myself a raw and bloody mess. We thought we had dealt with this scourge by treating Bibi and deploying several chemical 'bombs' (I put that in quotes so that any overeager member of the intelligence community reading this knows that I am referring exclusively to the boring, Home Depot variety). All this to say, we were wrong, and that our tenants share the attractive ankle trait exhibited by the Hussain family. In short, and in addition to the attendant mortification, they have vacated the premises until the exterminator does the needful. CRINGE CRINGE. The only constant in this equation has been Kirsten, ever patient and pragmatic.

I happened to have packed the book of Seneca's letters into a suitcase, and was reading them poolside as news of these developments reached us. Sadly, I have been unable to apply much of those teachings. Some of this is attributable to my own make-up (neurotic, restless and generally flappable), but some also to the fact that Seneca is in need of a good, hard editing. Also, his life and writings are inherently at odds with one another - spouting humility while amassing wealth, being a career courtesan while banging on about being indifferent to fate. What can a ravenously ambitious slave-owner teach me about handling adversity with dignity? What can Seneca know about the ferocity of fleas?

What next, will they discover an unpublished treatise by the Buddha on how to live a harmonious family life?

No, Seneca has a few nice sound bytes, but Anno put it much better than Seneca ever could, once she and I had discussed and decided the course of corrective action we were going to take re: the Brooklyn house:

"Look, let's just go to the elephant orphanage - the feeding is at 11am, and S. will love it."

Now that is stoicism in action.