Thursday, July 15, 2004

I've Got Them Dog-Howling-Ceiling-on-the-Floor-Money-Burning Blues

Home is where I always want to be
Home is there for you and is for me
Home is where I never want to leave

-Josh Rouse, Nothing Gives Me Pleasure

Vegas is taking odds on when I'm going to snap and how it's going to happen. Me? I'm leaning towards the drink, but you never know what form a good nervous breakdown's going to take.

Let's review this evening, shall we? I return home from another soul-crushing day at the office and find my half-crazed dog, bouncing around the room like a pinball. After I calm down her barking and whining, I go into the house itself (I keep her in an air conditioned sunroom) to find that a good chunk of my ceiling has found its way to the floor.

I may not know much about drills, hammers, plumbing and electrical work, but I know for a fact that the ceiling does indeed belong on the ceilng. Otherwise, it would be a floor. Or so I've been told.

After checking to make sure gravity didn't reverse itself and I wasn't at that moment spinning towards the sun, I examined the remains of the ceiling (that was still attached to the ceiling) to see that my toilet is leaking. Great.

Plumbers. I fear plumbers. I don't undestand how plumbing works. All I know is water comes out the faucets and everyone's happy. When something goes wrong, I know it's going to take a lot of time and even more money to make things right. The last time I called a plumber, he came in for 15 minutes, told me I need to caulk my tub and charged me $60. I nearly asked him where he hid his ski mask and gun, but fearing for my life, I refrained.

Fortunately, I had yardwork to distract me from my problems. And even better, my trusted hound wanted to join me in my yardwork. So I mowed the lawn and repeatedly screamed "GET OUT OF THE WAY DAMMIT!!!!!" "JESUS DOG, DO YOU WANT TO DIE?" "NO!!! NO!!!!!!!! DON'T EAT THAT!!!!!!!!"

Mental note: the cries and howls are far better than what I went through tonight. Especially when I walked in a different door, and she thought I left her. If you've never seen a dog have a panic attack, consider yourself lucky. It's not a pretty sight.

So here I am; preparing for bed. I'm exhausted. I'm sick of things going wrong with my house. I'm tired of my dog going hysterical when I walk out the door for five minutes. Fortunately, I'll be asleep in about a half hour, so I won't have to think about all this until tomorrow.

However, on the plus side, after early next week, all the issues with my kitchen ceiling will be resolved and I can finally start repairing it, I'll hopefully have my gutters repaired, and I can start painting the house like I've wanted to do for several months.

Of course, the dog will still be a nervous wreck. C'est la vie.

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