Monday July 5, 2010

It was supposed to be an orderly day. My to do list was arranged according to towns; get money from the bank in Deruta, go to the Monday morning market in central Marsciano for a matching rug for the bathroom and a disposable camera, spend lunchtime at a local gym, then go to Todi in the afternoon to pay my water bill, re-charge the phone and visit the Biblioteca Leone to check my email.

But on the way to the market I stopped at the Polo store in Marsciano – a small department store that sells household goods, furniture, some clothing and toys. A perfect living room chair was on sale for half price! An attractive expandable wooden table also caught my eye. Before I knew it I had purchased these and set about trying to squeeze them into my little Fiat Panda. Assistance came in the form of a small, very skinny young woman who might make a perfect Lisbeth Salander when they make the Italian version of Girl With the Dragon Tatoo. Her strength was remarkable; first she showed me how to lay the back seats flat, then proceeded to nestle in a rather large wooden chair and finally she lifted the extremely heavy boxed table and laid it flat on top of the chair. She pushed and shoved everything until the trunk door closed and seemed very pleased with herself. Of course I was not going to be able to see out of the back window, but she just shrugged and pointed to the side mirrors. I asked her whether the table needed to be assembled and she said yes. Is it easy, I asked. Yes, very easy, she said. Easy for her probably.

By the time I hit the market, most of the vendors were closing up. The rug merchant was nowhere to be found but I did purchase a half-kilo of Porchetta di Pantalla for 10 euro. I had enough porchetta to feed the borgo. Each one of these porchetta trucks has a different name – Porchetta di Norcia, Porchetta di Marsciano, etc. They are basically the same truck, but there’s an implication that one town makes porchetta better than another.

Back at Le Caselle, I discover that I do not have my house keys. This can’t be happening. They are going to show up. They are probably somewhere in the bowels of my purse or shoved into my camera case. I take the extremely heavy table out of the back. Well, I don’t exactly take it, I slide it until it hits the ground. There’s no way I’m going to be able to move this, so I tear into the packaging and move it piece by piece. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but there was nothing to tear it with, since I didn’t have my house keys and the car key was not serated. So I started ripping and the pieces of cardboard fell all around me. Inside the box were some stray pieces, but the tabletop and extendable piece were all together and weighed a ton. So I slid the box inch by inch until I got almost to my door. I went back to get the wooden chair, which seemed almost weightless by comparison. Now everything was at my front door, but I had no key.

I emptied my purse. Nothing. Combed every inch of the car. Nada. I began to worry about my mental health. Was there something wrong with me that I was not admitting? I knew Admir had a key but I didn’t have his number. I called Fausto but a message answered. So, embarrassed as I was, I called Judy. What did you lose today, she asked.? The house keys, I admitted. She laughed, but I was mortified.