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I kept waking up last night. There was this darn train effect going on and on. Somewhere in my mind, I knew it was the wind. But it was so loud. Constant noise. Another part of my brain, kept waking me up with ‘what ifs’. Like what if one of those lovely trees you insisted upon keeping, does you the favor of falling on the house? What if a big branch lands on the truck? What if the recycle bin your SO insisted wouldn’t blow away is in the next state by now?
How come my projects are 1 person projects and anything my SO does seems to be 2 people projects? I love when he’s not around for a few hours. I get so much done. None of the “hey do you know where this is?” or “I put it here, what did you do with it?”. Argh!
Yesterday was clean-out-the-garage day. I guess I made such a stink about how he looks at a weekend and thinks about all the things he can do away from the house, that when Sunday rolled around, he was determined to ‘help’ me clean out the garage.
I had one simple goal: move everything in the garage and sweep it out. Shouldn’t take that long, it’s not that big of a garage and unlike most of our friends, we actually park in our’s.
With his ‘help’, it took 6 hours. I had to kick him out to go talk to the neighbor for a bit, just to get a breather. He wanted to think about where things should go (the other side of the garage). He wanted to put up shelves (which we don’t have). He wanted to sort things (which we already have). But mostly he wanted to search for holes. It was like having a 5 year old boy wandering around looking for things to get in to.
After several hours of moving things, scrubbing things, and throwing things in the back of the truck, I was almost done. I brought the shredder up from the basement and started creating piles of little pieces of paper. He went in search of things to shred. Sigh… The shredder gave up twice due to overheating…
Finally, I had enough, bagged the shreds, the garbage, and gave one final sweep, sweeping him out of the garage and closed the doors.
I’m exhausted from his ‘help’.
Ciao
I shouted, “The Guys are here, hon. Get dressed.”
If you ever wander back through my little blog of diatribes, you might notice that I started this when we started our house building. Well at least when we actually bought land not the 7 year odyssey that it took to get there. We became proud owners in Dec ’05. Not much has gone wrong with the house. A few mechanical difficulties which were promptly fixed by “the Guys”.
“The Guys” would show up after a call and eat our food, drink coffee, and generally be loud fixer-uppers of stuff. Nothing was too small or too big. Fixed and off they would go. I often wish my SO had their talents. Sigh… All he did was rip the spigot off the side of the house with the lawn mower..
Well its time for our 1 year walk-thru and due to the vagaries of scheduling they appeared this morning and are eating our food, drinking coffee, and are quietly banging around the house fixing nail pops, cracks, leaks, etc. Over the next few days, I’ll get to see all “the Guys” who we worked with to build our home.
People delighted in telling us how bad our experience would be and to tell the truth, it wasn’t so bad. Sure we had our arguments, discussions. But those mainly were me and the SO trying to find tile, colors, cabinets, and lights. Early on we determined we would move no load-bearing walls, not re-arrange the kitchen for the umpteenth time, or change our minds half-way thru anything major like tile work. Every horror story we heard seemed to come from those three with a healthy dose of (you guessed it) lack of communications.
We would make a choice and for better-or-worse stick with it. The Builder knew his stuff and we have a very beautiful solidly built house.
Guess what I’m trying to say is “the Guys” can come over anytime and eat our food, drink coffee, and bang around the place.
Ciao
Thoughts of an Old Fart 