And this is why I hate – – – (fill in the blank)

This past Friday was high on the stress scale and here’s why.  I really dread having work done on the house, in the house, outside the house, anywhere near the house.  It’s a subject I’ve written about ad infinitum in this space, but I’m saying it again anyway.  Homes are money pits.  Arranging even the simplest job to be done can spur a domino effect of astounding proportions.  Suppose you want to take down an existing lighting fixture and replace it with a new one.  The electrician comes and discovers once he’s removed the fixture you’ve had hanging over your head for the past twenty years that it was never properly installed.  You’ve been living with a violation most of your adult life.  Call SVU.

Then he tells you he has to break through the ceiling to find the electrical box, the Ark of the Covenant that will tell him what needs to be done.  I’ll tell you what needs to be done.  You need to tear up that $150 check and write one for $300.  Unless he finds a squirrel up there.  Animal removal?  Shit, that’s $500.  And if the squirrel’s been electrocuted, you’ll be hearing from the Indigent Vermin Union and you better hope you have insurance.  Don’t call FEMA unless it’s in your basement under three feet of ‘Act Of God’ water.  Agnostics call it ‘Natural Disaster’.  Insurance companies call it ‘Not Covered’.

I handle the home repair appointments at our house because I’m a student and part-time census worker and Husband is so done with the whole situation that he’d be okay if I told him tomorrow I wanted to move to a double-wide with a view of the laundromat.  He’d be packed before you could say “Stamp my visa for the boondocks.”  But no, I’m psychically anchored to the New York area because it’s near my kids who I adore as well as some great shopping.

So this was my day this past Friday.  At 8:30 am the tree removal guys arrived to fulfill their $750 estimate for proposed work.  The owner of the company sat in his car across the street from our driveway taking phone calls about future jobs while I obsessed that his crew was removing the right branches.  Limbs were coming down everywhere.  In response to my tapping on his car window, he popped out to say, yeah, those are the ones.  Well, maybe not THAT one, but you’ll never miss it and there’s no extra charge.

When they left, I jumped in my car and drove to my team census meeting then high-tailed it to my personal trainer, Faith, about half an hour away.  She delivered once again on killing me.  She hates to disappoint.  Then I rushed home for an appointment with the electrician I hired to take down our old ceiling fan and install a new one.  There were issues.  Not the least of which were of my own making, which I was forced to acknowledge when Husband came home and laid eyes on our new (expensively installed) ceiling fan.

HUSBAND:  Nice.  The blades are very shiny.

OSV:  I know.  They didn’t look that shiny in the store.  It must be the lacquered finish.  They really catch the light going around, don’t they?

HUSBAND:  Are you going to be okay with that?

OSV:  You mean with my migraines brought on by rhythmic reflective glare?  Today cost us a thousand dollars.  I’ll manage.

Daughter’s Featured Fotos tell it Like It Is

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