Construction Update

I had my pre-drywall walk-through Tuesday with the project manager on-site. I'd just been there the day before but nothing had changed structurally in a couple of weeks, except the addition of siding and the balcony on an unsold unit.

They still have to pull out the studs to re-do the entryway, but the guys were in there cleaning up the construction debris. Tom (the PM) said they'll be starting the drywall by the end of the week!!! The walls will be painted in two weeks.

Apparently, weather is still a factor even with the unit under roof. Go figure.

Anyway... two more months. Please, God!

Chrismakkah with the Crank

Interesting Holiday meal at the brother's house Christmas eve. And I wouldn't call it entirely dysfunctional. A Hanukkah eve miracle.

I'd never met my brother's in-laws before. Although apparently, I had. I don't remember, and no, it's not because I drank at his reception.

There's Aunt Pat, Aunt Judy, feisty, elderly and teeny-tiny Aunt Bev, Cousin Jeannie, Cousin Dennis and Dennis's pregnant wife whose name I can't recall and who barely deigned to speak to anyone.

Dinner was delicious - my sister-in-law is an excellent cook. There was a family traditional Hanukkah dish of brisket, along with kasha (buckwheat) and shells (pasta shells). There was the not-quite-so traditional Hanukkah ham with corn casserole and the always appropriate mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. I abstained from the ham and had a bit of everything else.

Her family is lively - filled with piss and vinegar. The kind of folks I like. Well... except for Dennis's pregnant and utterly forgettable wife.

Cousin Jeannie did a stint on Dr. Phil a few months back. The subject? Dating. Then she was called back recently to do an update show. Feisty and cute, but... I thought 80s mall hair went out in the 90s. I'm setting my VCR and praying she didn't wear this same hairstyle for her TV appearance.

Anyway... nothing very dysfunctional to report. Dull is good.

Away in a Different Manger: Update

Well, it's seems the critical players arrived to fill the empty manger just in time for Christmas. I'm assuming the previous display was the "before". And here we have the "after".

Which makes me wonder... was the "before" display considered December 24, 0000 B.C. and the "after" December 25, 0000 A.D.? I'm seriously wondering. I don't know.

I suppose by some accounts, I'm going to burn in hell.

The Amazing Exploding Poodle (Warning: Utterly Gross)

My attempt to keep my dog from using his bladder as a WMD has been working. For the most part. Every time I leave the house, he gets a baby diaper wrapped around the lower half of his body and my friend's Pergo is safe from his urethral assault.

Mind you, this is not a physical malady. He's old, but he's perfectly capable of holding his water for hours and hours as demonstrated every night when we go to sleep. The pissing is behavioral and directed at me for leaving him. Hence, I've resorted to diapering him.

Occasionally, however, a wardrobe malfunction (largely due to the fact my roomie puts his diaper on more loosely than I do) allows Ricky to twist the diaper around and piss at will. I've gone through three rolls of Bounty in three months.

Of course, this behavior isn't limited to simply leaving a puddle. He craps, too. And since I can't be there to immediately handle the clean-up detail, he manages to dispose of the solid waste himself in a completely vile and disgusting manner.

Don't ask me why I didn't just diaper the dog in the manner you do a child, covering ass and penis to catch all manner of excrement. I just had a... thing... about enclosing his pom-pom tail in close proxity to his poop-chute and the thought of having to clean it.

I got over that last night.

I walked into my converted garage quarters after coming home from work to a... You know, "mess" just doesn't describe adequately the state of the converted garage last night. See, it was yesterday that the interior of my dog's intestinal tract became a container for the third state of matter - liquid. If there had been a fire in that room, he could have handily extinguished it.

A bottle of lemon-scented Lysol Disinfecting Spray and a half a roll of Bounty later, the room was nearly back to normal. The large, dark diarrhetic stain on the area rug (upon which my overpriced air mattress rests) was clean, but the smell endured. Which means it's not clean. The stench laughed at the Lysol, guffawed at the overly generous application of Rug Doctor Pet Stain remover.

I attempted to dry the rug with a blow dryer to see if the smell would fade. It didn't.

My roomie is having family over for Christmas eve, and while I'm housesitting at a friend's this weekend (dog and diapers in tow), my converted garage quarters will be returned to its original state as a family room. Looks like I'm stopping by the supermarket on the way home tonight to pick up cleaning materials so I don't give the entire family doggie dysentery.

In the meantime, I cut a little slit in the diaper this morning, pulled his little tail through the hole and diapered my dog's ass fully. Try shitting the house now, ya little watery turd.

Away in a Different Manger

I walked my dog this morning along our usual route. I've noticed for several days now that a neighbor has a manger in their front yard, but it's completely empty. No Mary, no Joseph, no wise men, no ox, no ass, no llamas, no orangutans, not even the little Prince of Peace himself.

Empty.

So I determined that perhaps this is a metaphor, a visual representation of the latest Christian ad campaign of "Got Jesus?"

But then again, I wondered if it would be possible for the owner of a home with siding missing and a rusted out '82 Ford pick-up with a KIX 96 bumper sticker to be capable of such profundity?

Well... stranger things have happened.

A Christmas Technological Miracle

Driving past a church last Saturday, I observed my first live nativity scene. Well, lacking a live infant playing Jesus, or adults playing the virgin mother (should that be capitalized?) and Joseph. Also missing: a supernova.

Alongside the cardboard cutouts of the three wise men (should that be capitalized?), ox and ass, etc., I saw real people standing around the three-foot tall manger scene, reverently holding candles. Being pretty cold, I was duly impressed by the dedication of those who participated in the service, all trying to get into a spiritual alignment with the birth of Jesus - their future lord and savior (should that be capitalized?).

Until I saw the Weber kettle.

I suppose up until that point I could forgive the jeans, fleece, ski parkas and other more modern attire, but the Weber kettle just threw me out of the sanctity of the scene, made me burst out laughing, nearly running my car into a telephone pole. Thankfully, I was saved from yet another pre-Noel fender-bender by a giant, blow-up Santa in a sleigh - the sobering gaudiness of which caught my eye in the nick of time.

I'm counting down the days to December 26.

Which still does no good, cuz people will keep those crappy lights up until Valentine's day anyway.

The Miracle of the Toilet Paper

I've mentioned my construction woes, but I've not mentioned how I got to where I am now. I sold my home to a young family with a husband in the military. (Trust me when I tell you their agent decided to strum that little sympathetic, support-our-troops heartstring whenever she felt the need to leverage their end of the deal.) After the NIGHTMARE of the sale ended, I moved into the home of a dear friend.

It was only supposed to be for three weeks. That was September 1.

The deal I had on the new home I was to move into September 20th fell through the very day I closed on my old home, leaving me with no place to go after three weeks staying with my friend, Connie. So I stupidly opted for new construction, but not before asking Connie if it was okay that I invade her home for another few months. Dear, kind, and generous Connie told me to stay as long as it took. And so I am. Poor Connie. She is a lovely person indeed.

Anyhoo... over the past three months we've been doing well with this temporary living arrangement that was only supposed to last through the "end of January, mid-February AT THE LATEST"! But I wonder if she's seeing The Miracle of the Toilet Paper...

I'll explain.

Since I've been living here, I wonder if my roomie's noticed her bathroom cabinet has never run out of toilet paper. I wonder if she remembers the last time she bought toilet paper.

Mind you, I'm not complaining at all about bringing home the toilet paper. I happen to think it's hilarious and I plan to keep stocking the TP just like Jesus did with the loaves and fishes.

Now, if Connie will just mention this miracle... Well, until then, it appears Miss Connie may not recognize her need for TP until sometime in March.

More Construction Woes

Well, I drove out there today, since there was no call back.

"I was just going to call you!" Pert, Size 1 Blonde Bimbo (hereinafter referred to as PS1BB) said.

Of course, you were I thought to myself.

"End of February!" she said brightly.

Nope. This is not what I wanted to hear. I was told mid-February at the latest. At the LATEST!

Dammit.

Try as I might, I couldn't dazzle her with my newfound construction knowledge and the fact that I should only be eight weeks out. Seems PS1BB doesn't know much about constuction. Duh.

I want to eat my body weight in brownies.

Construction Woes

Okay, so it's not automatic that I jump in and blog every excrutiating detail of my life, but I was told by a fellow blogger that I should blog this.

I'm in the midst of building a house. Well, not a house - a condo. I purchased this godforsaken thing September 4, with the assurance that end of January, possible mid-February (at the latest), would be a good bet for closing.

So why was I told yesterday by the pert, size 1 blonde bimbo in the sales office that I'm "right on target for the end of February or middle of March." She was quite perky when she said it, too. As if I should be pleased.

Riiiiiiight.

I'm one of four units in a building and we're at studs, Tyvek, a roof that's shingled. There has been little bad weather to halt construction for more that a day or so. Seemingly all the important structural crap is in place. You'd think that now they could easily begin moving on the tasks of running the wiring, insulation, plumbing, the HVAC system, then eventually the windows, siding, gutters, drywall, paint, flooring, appliances, etc.

My mistake.

My friend, who has done construction, told me last night that I'm eight weeks out based on my description of where the construction stands right now.

So... what gives??

I placed another phone call today to speak with bimbo, or my original salesperson who's back from maternity leave. That was 90 minutes ago.

Spineless jellyfish.