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I opted to skip exercising yesterday, and as a result felt cranky and bitchy all day long. (More cranky and more bitchy, I guess I should say) I had thought about just waiting until Fred got home to exercise – that way Fred could be available if the paint guy needed a window opened or to answer a question – but ’round about noon I decided I felt so crappy and dirty that I had to have a shower RIGHT THAT SECOND, so I went and took a shower, and I COULDN’T exercise after I’d already taken a shower, right? RIGHT?
Gah. Skipping exercise for one day won’t kill me… But it does make me mighty cranky.
Before I got around to showering, Fred’s father and stepmother showed up. The guy who’s painting the window sills and trim did their house several weeks ago, which is how we got his name. They were dropping off lawn furniture for him to paint (he’s a very handy man, he is), and I had to go outside in my stinky exercise clothes, with my nasty, unshaved legs showing, and make conversation with his stepmother while his father loaded the lawn furniture into the paint guy’s truck.
I don’t think anyone noticed my hairy legs – I’m lucky enough that the hair on my arms and legs is blond, thus less noticeable than it COULD be – but if they did, they were nice enough not to mention it.
Stinky clothes, unshowered, hairy legs. I am SO SEXY.
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Yesterday morning after I uploaded my entry, I went to the bottom of the stairs to grab the vacuum cleaner so I could vacuum the entire downstairs.
(The vacuum cleaner doesn’t really have a permanent home. Usually it either sits at the top of the stairs waiting to go downstairs, or the bottom of the stairs waiting to go upstairs. Have I mentioned that I LOVE MY VACUUM CLEANER? Because oh YES I do.)
I glanced up the stairs, to see Meester Boogers on the top step, eyes dark, huddled up against the wall.
“Hey, little man!” I greeted him, and he stared down at me and huddled even closer to the wall. “What’s the matter, buddy?” I went up the stairs, and he watched me make the climb. I reached down to pet him, and he just looked up at me, eyes dark. I was starting to get a little worried, so I picked him up to check him over. Which is when he hid his face in my neck.
Now Meester Boogers, while being friendly enough if you pick him up, has never to my recollection hidden his face in my neck. If you pick him up to pet him, he’ll purr and enjoy being petted, but will only put up with it for a short while before asking to be put down. I decided to take him into the extra bedroom (he really likes hanging out in there) and put him on the bed so I could check to be sure he hadn’t hurt himself. As I walked toward the bedroom, he LOST HIS SHIT, and started kicking and flailing.
“What the-?” I said, and watched him as he ran down the stairs. I looked in the extra bedroom, and realized what the problem was.
The paint guy was on his ladder outside the window, putting primer on the window sill.
I think our cats are as antisocial as we are.
* * *
Everyone in
Jane’s guest book seems to think we should have a Sassy Con.
I’ll go, but only if everyone’s required to curtsy and call me “Your Majesty.”
* * *
Paint Guy is actually way more than just a paint guy. He’s an all-around handyman, it would appear. Fred told his father that he was tired of our driveway looking all nasty, because water tends to sit on the top part of the driveway and after a while, mold and mildew shows up. Fred’s father said something to Paint Guy, and Paint Guy told Fred that he could clean the driveway using his… thing. You know, the thing? That makes water shoot out really hard? That I cannot think of the name? Yeah, that thing. Anyway, he told Fred he could clean the driveway, and Fred accepted the offer, and so Paint Guy’s been cleaning the driveway for the better part of the morning, and it looks AMAZING. It’s stunning how clean he’s getting the driveway and sidewalk.
We were laying bed talking last night, and Fred thought of another thing Paint Guy might be able to do for us, inside the house, maybe later when the weather gets cold and his work slows down. This guy seems to be busy all the time, and he doesn’t advertise at all – it’s all just through word of mouth. He painted Fred’s father’s house, did some work for Fred’s sister, now he’s doing work for us, and one of Fred’s business partners has work for him to do. Aside from all that, just through word of mouth, he has four houses lined up to paint when he’s done with ours.
He’s a nice guy, very polite (anytime he asked me something yesterday, he apologized for interrupting me; and he won’t park in the driveway because his truck leaks oil), he works hard, he does an excellent job, and we’re paying him less than we’d pay someone from a big company – which works out well for him, because he gets to keep all the money he makes.
The American Dream in action, baby.
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