I have a taste for dark things. Ordinarily it’s not a problem, I can keep it pretty private. The only times when my unusual obsessions interfere with my daily life is when a colleague asks me what I’ve done with my weekends or if a stranger needs to enter my house. Sometimes I just answer weekend questions with, ‘Not much’ so I don’t have to get into details about how I’ve been invoking demons or reveling in the decrepitude of abandoned buildings. And then, when it’s time for the real estate agent to inspect the property, I throw stash away my Goya prints and throw sheets over the antique torture devices. It’s a bit of a chore just to avoid the judgement of others.
I now need to get gas oven repairs. Sydney companies can come in and do the job without a hassle, but what I fear is the repair man’s fear and judgement. You see, some years ago I purchased the former oven of Sylvia Plath, the mid-century poet who stuck her head into her old Westinghouse, ultimately asphyxiating herself. What can I say? I couldn’t resist how morbid it would be to own that oven and bake treats in there. I know, I’m perverse… but do you think the repairs guy will notice? I mean, the worst thing that can happen is that he’ll give me a strange look and make the sign of the cross. Best case scenario he won’t even know the history. I should probably be more worried about the viability of repairing this oven – it is approaching 70 years old after all.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if I ever need a dishwasher service – you don’t even want to know the history of that one. There should be companies in Sydney that specialise in repairing macabre goods. I mean, there’s got to be more to it than just tightening a few bolts, right? These antiques require special care to preserve the haunting memories and blackened auras they contain.
