I noticed a few days ago that rainwater was dripping into the space where I keep the firewood. It did not take me long to figure out that a crack has appeared between the terrace above it and the house. I talked about it with Jozo Brandić, who has fixed many a problem large and small with my house over the years, and he will plug the crack as soon as the rain stops, which is expected by this weekend. But I noticed today that the toilet upstairs is leaking. A barely perceptible streak of water that comes out of the tank above the bowl is continual and steady. Thus I called Denis Handjal, a plumber of renown in Motovun. He will come over sometime this afternoon to fix the leak. My mind on the house, I also called Saša Cerovac to check the central heating burner in the basement. An engineer from Buzet, he services it every year around this time. Having made all these calls, I started wondering about my house. It is getting old. I spend ever more time dealing with its many ailments, which are piling up. I am yet to see who can fix a window in the attic, which started leaking a couple of years ago. Now there is a plastic bowl under the window. All the doors and windows need repainting, and especially those that are most exposed to the weather. This I will do myself, I guess. And so on, and so forth. Out of the blue, my heart went to the house. In many ways, it reminds me of my own body. The house is an extension of my body, as it were. And both are getting old at a clip.