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I am a murderer. I HAVE KILLED.
BobPod, may you rest in peace.
I dropped my goddamn iPod while I was at the house yesterday (a sign that the house does not appreciate
Keith and the Girl, obviously), and it froze up, and it’s still frozen and
nothing I try will get it unfrozen, it’s all frozen up with my KATG goodness locked inside, and I am panicked at the idea of (1) working on the house or (2) exercising without my BobPod.
Why, BobPod? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY? Why have you left me, forlorn and battered, to face this dark world without you? Was it something I did? (“Yes, you stupid bitch, you DROPPED ME, and it wasn’t the first time!”) Please come back to me, BobPod. PLEEEEEEEASE!
Any suggestions would be very much appreciated. I cannot spend another 10-hour day at the house without podcasts to listen to, for I will be driven mad without something to take my mind off the tedium of the cleaning and painting and painting and painting and painting some more.
HELP ME.
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So I spent a total of 11 hours at the house yesterday. I got there at 7:30, hoping to get the upper half of the upstairs bathroom painted before the insulation guys arrived (not that I expected they would actually ever really show up), but I realized that I had to do something to protect the lower half of the bathroom from the paint I’d be slinging around as I painted the upper half (note to self: when painting a room two different colors, paint the upper half first next time, dummy), so I took the roll of
contractor paper we bought at Lowe’s over the weekend, pulled off thick strips of it, and taped it over the lower half of the bathroom where I’d already painted, and over the freshly tiled shower. I was almost done with the bathroom when the insulation guys showed up.
After I was done reeling around the house in shock that the guys had shown up, I showed them where the attic accesses were, and then went downstairs to stay out of the way. I did some painting (and I’d show you what I painted, because it’s too hard to explain, but I am a dumbass who forgot to take her camera with her OF COURSE on a day when there were many things to take pictures of, DAMNIT) and when I was done with my painting an hour later, the insulation guys had come to the conclusion that the “broken” truck was still broken (the truck itself was working, but the part that blows insulation through the big tubes was busted), and that “the boss” had another truck in the area doing other jobs and would try to get them out to the house at some point during the day.
I said goodbye to the insulation guys, then went off to eat breakfast and then call my parents, who are in Florida this week, and then went upstairs to start painting the bathroom.
Painting the bathroom was a humongous pain in the motherfucking ass. The lower part of the bathroom is composed of
beadboard with the lines going vertically, and it wasn’t too much of a pain to paint. The upper half, however, is beadboard with the lines going horizontally, and it was a humongous pain to get the paint in the lines. I had to push really hard on the roller to get the paint to go in the lines, and once I was done doing that with the roller I had to go back over the walls with a brush and get all the spots I had missed.
By lunchtime, though, I had gotten two coats of paint on the wall, and decided it looked good enough to leave for the time being. I figured once Fred had the lights installed in that room (I did the whole freakin’ paint job with just the light coming in through the window) I’d go back over the wall with a paint brush and touch up what I’d missed.
I decided to hit Sonic for a salad for lunch, grabbed my purse, and headed out the front door.
When I walked out the front door, I got a lovely, lovely surprise. Actually, I got a couple of lovely surprises. The first lovely surprise was that there was a fucking DRIFT of insulation across the front and side yards. Apparently what the insulation guys (part one) had done to determine that their truck wasn’t operating properly was to blow fucking insulation all over the yard, then leave without cleaning it the fuck up.
I called Fred and bitched at him about it, and he told me he was going to go raise some hell.
The second lovely, lovely surprise – after I talked to Fred – was that Maxi was slinking back and forth on the front porch, howling, and when I walked out the door, she excitedly led me to the rocking chair I usually sit in (when it’s not so goddamn cold), underneath which lay a dead mole. And in front of the rocking chair? A mouse head. Just the head, no other body parts.
Maxi must REALLY love me, that’s all I have to say about that.
Cold-blooded murderer. Just like ME.
I went to Sonic, got my salad, got home, ate my salad, did a little reading (What? I don’t deserve a damn break? YES I DO.) and was about to go back upstairs to tape off the bathroom and paint the trim when Fred called to let me know that the insulation guys were on the way. I went upstairs to pull down the contractor paper I’d left taped to the wall, and was just about done with that when the tile guy showed up. I got out of his way and went downstairs to putty the holes in the shoe molding (ie, quarter-round) Fred had put down on Tuesday.
I hadn’t been doing that for long when the insulation guys (part two) showed up. Apparently they hadn’t been informed by the insulation guys (part one) that there was a drift of insulation in the front yard, and they were appropriately aghast that anyone would leave something like that behind.
And for the first time in my life when someone profusely apologized, I didn’t say “No, it’s okay!”, because I was rawwwwther ticked off about the whole damn thing. I did, however, graciously say “I appreciate that” when they promised they’d clean up the mess.
So I was puttying more shoe molding when one of the insulation guys – I told my sister he looked like Jay from Clerks, but on second look, he really bore more of a resemblance to
Tommy Lee (just the face, pervs. I didn’t get a chance – or have the desire – to inquire after
further resemblance.) – asked if there was a restroom he could use. I pointed him to it, and he said “Is there tissue in there?”
Oh boy.
“There sure is,” I said with a smile, then beat it out of there and went to the kitchen (ie, far away from the bathroom) to text my sister that a workman was stankin’ up the joint.
See, this is how nice I am. I was working in the computer room, and the bathroom is right off the computer room. I didn’t want Tommy Lee to feel all SELF-CONSCIOUS about stankin’ up my bathroom, so I went a few rooms away so as to make the experience more pleasing for him.
And then when I went into the computer room and was about knocked over from the ROTTING STENCH OF A THOUSAND DEAD PEOPLE coming from the bathroom, I wanted to go get a box of matches and light them ALL, but I didn’t want to make him FEEL BAD about the stench he’d left behind, so I covered my nose with my shirt and tried my best to ignore the smell.
Until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and went and got the matches, and lit about a hundred of them. (A hundred, or three. One or the other. WHATEVER.)
Finally, Fred showed up and I could relax, because when he’d called to tell me that the insulation guys (part two) were on the way, he’d also told me to not pay them until they’d talked to the salesguy, who’d promised that either the guys would clean up the mess, or we’d get a discount on the service. This way, he could deal with the whole messy paying-the-guys stuff, and I could wander off and do mind-numbing tasks that desperately needed doing.
Though the insulation guys did an admirable job of attempting to clean up the mess left behind by the first set of guys, they weren’t able to really clean it all up (I think they would have needed some sort of vacuum for that), and so Fred gave the salesguy a call and let him know how very unhappy he was with the whole experience.
Fred, who is a genius, has learned that if you express your displeasure with a service, and then keep silent while the man in charge babbles nervously, in the end they’ll generally offer something you want.
In this case, we got a 25% discount on the cost of the insulation installation. Happy Valentine’s Day to me!!!
Once the insulation guys left, we put up the crown molding in the downstairs bathroom, then Fred went around and measured and cut shoe molding for the front room and kitchen. We ate dinner in there somewhere, and finally left around 6:30.
I am NOT going out to the house today, but do have to run Joe Bob to the vet because he’s still straining to pee (though I don’t think he’s blocked, because he’s not distressed, plus he’s actually peeing a tiny bit every time he tries) and after five days of being on Clavam0x and the special food, he should be doing better. I’m dropping him off at the vet for observation and so they can figure out what the hell is going on, and will get him back tomorrow evening.
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It’s pretty much looking like we’re very close to being done with the renovations, and will be moving me and the cats out to Smallville the first weekend in March, or thereabouts. Can you believe it? FINALLY.
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My Valentine’s Day was… well, it was pretty much like any other day, because we don’t really go all out for the occasion. I picked up a card and some Dove chocolates for him (dark chocolate, because he loves dark chocolate and I hate it and thus won’t eat it). He gave me a card and a single-serving bag of peanut M&Ms (I ate a few and tossed the rest).
Maybe next year we’ll go out to eat or have a date night for Valentine’s Day, but I kinda doubt it – and I’m okay with that. He spoils me rotten 365.25 days a year; I don’t need to be extra spoiled on this particular day.
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Warning: Cat cannot hold his licker.
(Several more Booger pics,
here)
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Previously
2006: I suspect the latter, personally. Fuckers.
2005: Collab
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: William Fichtner is a hottie.
2001: I hope I’m not doing serious damage to myself, but if you saw how clean the showers get, you’d know how much it’s worth it.
2000: I highly recommend a warm, purring kitten laying against you when you’re feeling nauseous.]]>