The American Dream is downright stupid. There, I said it. Having a home, not all it's cracked up to be. Bold statement, I know. But honestly, I deal with people's broken things in their office/warehouse/retail buildings all day long. Therefore, when I go home at night, everything needs to work. It just has to.
It's like a tailor going home to find all of their clothes have fallen apart and need to be eintirely re-sewn.
Or like a lawyer being sued.
Or a trash hauler with garbage all over the place.
You get what I mean. And so here has been our week.
Monday, the plumber arrives to install the thingeymabob for our lawn sprinkler system outside. You know, the thingey that hooks up to the spigot, for the sprinklers. He hooks it up from the outside, while we are at at work. Lovely. Fine.
We arrive home from work that night, Jeremy walks into the family room and screams, "KARA, why did you drill a hole in the floor and trim??" I look at him as though he has lost his freaking mind, and say, "Uh....huh? Drill a hole?" And I look down. While the guy was out installing the thingeymabob, he inadvertently drilled all the way into the house, through our baseboards, and into our hardwood flooring. Thanks buddy. We have a hole in our house. So now we need to get a price to repair the freaking hole, get it approved by the plumber, who is sure-as-hell paying for the flipping hole in my floor, and then get the dumb thing repaired.
I was working late Tuesday night, attending a city council meeting, trying to convince this particular city to let us build a building a pharmacy. I arrive home to find Jeremy and my dad doing some tasks around the house. As I pull up, Jeremy comes running to my car to tell me he smells gas in the basement. I look at him, unamused, and thinking there is a 90% chance he is crazy, and it's just old garbage or something, but humor him and go in the house and smell for gas. Wowezowee. Gas smell. Not crazy. Quite correct.
We call the gas company. They come out within 30 minutes. During this 30 minute time span, I take many trips in and out of the house to get things (dinner, jacket, iPad etc...) while Jeremy sits on the deck, waiting for me to implode upon entering the house due to Natural Gas.
The guy arrives, and he and Jeremy go down to the basement where the smell is strongest (I stay upstairs...I hate the basement). While down there in the dark I shout down the stairs, "Hey guys, want me to turn on the lights for you??" Woops, wrong thing to say to the gas company guy while examining a potential gas leak. Apparently that can ya know, like ignite things. He wasn't amused.
The sprinkler system was installed yesterday. We thought without a hitch. Finally, something went our way. The system was installed, functioning, lovely. I go up to our bedroom, to watch TV and fold some laundry, but the TV is just "Searching". Okay, whatever, aren't we all 'searching', I think to myself. It keeps searching. Dang thing still can't find itself. Jeremy comes upstairs with the computer, to search the internet for travel/airplane/hotel/Jeremy kind of things. No internet. I sense a pattern. We check the downstairs TV. No TV. No internet. You have to be kidding me. Yes, the sprinkler guys must have hit the cable line while installing the system. Either that or someone, somewhere, thinks this is the week to completely test my patience.
So, hole in the floor/wall.
Gas is gone from the house and broken pipe is repaired.
No TV or internet until Thursday at the earliest.
Here's to the American Dream. I'm going out to buy my condo back.