Category: House

It’s been a week.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 1 Comment on It’s been a week.

Hi. I need to get some shit off my chest. And it’s a raw shit dump. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. That includes my friends and my husband. But I’ve been awakened by panic attacks for two days in a row now and I need to get it out. Don’t worry, I will totally talk to Mr C about it — but he’s currently asleep and then he’s got D&D later so that might not happen till tomorrow. Eh, even then it’s his birthday so maybe not then. He’ll read this. (Hi, my love!) And I’m going to go to my friends house to talk and pet their dogs. I’m like dressed and everything.

So the fact that I haven’t had this shit dump to an actual human yet is 100% on me, OK? I’ve talked to K on the phone extensively — hell, I saw her all three days of the trial. And Mr C and I even watched the Glass Onion last night (It’s the sequel to Knives Out — and holy shit, they are both incredible movies — must see). The problem is, sometimes I don’t realize what I’m feeling. I guess I’m not in touch enough some times. So I have my very logical side and my very emotional side. And right now my logical side is having a fucking millennium New Year’s party while my emotional side is crying in bed and therefore waking me up in panic attacks to try to get some attention.

It’s been a rough week, yall. So this was the last week at my shit show job, the week of my court case/trial, and also our HVAC needs repair.

So let’s start with the elephant — the court case. This has been 3 years over due. The car accident which caused a concussion which led to post concussion syndrome and me losing my job and being out of work from October to August — that happened back in mid October of 2019. Obviously, settling is ideal. However, State Farm only offered me 7k. To cover 10 months of not working. However, I’m not that stingy, I only asked for the 7 months because I was released by my doctor to work PART TIME in May. It took until August before I actually got put on another contract and took a 20k pay cut. But we’re only arguing for when I technically was allowed to go back to work. But yeah, 7k aint gonna cover it. So I had to get a lawyer.

So we get a lawyer and sue. Some fun facts: the police report is inadmissible in court because it’s hearsay — they didn’t witness the accident. Also you cannot even MENTION insurance in court. Probably because if the jury knew insurance were the assholes and the ones paying up, everyone would logically go “no shit, that’s what insurance is for” and you’d always win. That’s my theory on that rule. So it’s not me suing insurance, it’s me suing the 16 year old kid that hit me in his daddy’s car. And the opposing lawyer is representing the kid, but the kid didn’t hire that lawyer — insurance did. This is all pomp and show of insurance using the kid as an avatar. The kid will never pay a penny ’cause… THAT’S WHAT INSURANCE IS FOR. But it doesn’t change the fact that I am suing that young kid over there sitting with his mommy and daddy for comfort. Do I get anyone for comfort? No. Cause Mr C has a job, I guess? I’m too self conscious to ask him to be there for me? Maybe I didn’t think I needed it because strong independent woman? I don’t know. He had offered and I was like no, there’s no point in you missing work for this BS. So anyway, I was alone. It was my own fault, but my point is — I made an error in judgment and so I had to go through this alone. </SCENE>

So I spent three days getting ripped apart in court. Because I’m the plaintiff, and the kid is the defense. So the other side didn’t even bring any witnesses. They admitted 100% fault in the accident. Their argument was that I’m a big fat liar about the illness that caused me to miss work and lose my job and wreck my face. He even quoted the TV Lawyers’ pitch “In a wreck, get a check!” But like, we’re arguing this to a jury so the main case is she’s a big fat liar. But we gotta lather it on — so we’re also gonna throw in she’s crazy (it’s documented since 2003). And then for the cherry on the cake — how is this bitch worth a six figure salary? Also somehow we’re gonna throw in that she has a lot of medical problems – let’s discuss all of that. Somehow maybe it’s just the thyroid or anemia that’s been well under control for 15 years.

So OK, I know I’m not a liar. So that’s really just an anger issue. But every time I complain about this piece of shit scumbag lawyer whose job is to drag my reputation through the mud in the dirtiest most exploitative ways — every time I mention wanting this fucker to die, everyone — even my husband, just say’s “That’s his job.” “He’s just doing his job.” You know what, I don’t give a fuck. Hit Men are just doing their jobs too. They got nothing personal against the people they’re paid to kill. Maybe he chose an asshole job? Maybe he has no ethics because he’s a piece of shit? I mean he sleeps just fine at night. That makes him a fucking asshole. He said a lot of bad things about me and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t get off because it’s his fucking job. Why is everyone just DISMISSING my anger? I’m fucking allowed to be angry.

So then let’s discuss my mental health. Cause it’s not like a sensitive subject or anything. Why are you crazy? Why do you require two antidepressants and take valium 3 times a day just to leave your house? Let’s talk about it. You take a lot of medication (Not like that’s something of a touchy subject like when my MIL snooped on my first trip up there and commented to my fiance that “she takes a LOT of medications.)” Do you think maybe you just didn’t wanna go to work? Even you doctor says he thinks underlying psychological conditions are probably contributing to your condition — sounds like he doesn’t believe you either. How do you feel about that? Do you think you’re crazy? You wanna cry about it cause you’re a big fat baby?

Also, why should you get paid this much? Like, you kinda suck. And you have a fuck ton of medical issues. Perhaps you just don’t wanna work? ‘Cause you’re lazy. Which I am. I am lazy, yall. Maybe you’re just trying to get a big payout. And it’s true that I’m heavily money driven, yall. That’s why I wanted my missed wages back. It’s also very true that I had to wake up early every day so K could come over on her way to work (GOD BLESS GOOD FRIENDS) and spray paint my hair brown. Cause as I am, I do not deserve that much money. I only deserve that much money if I present myself as better. With brown hair and makeup and better clothes and confidence. Cause normal Mrs C is a crazy wreck who doesn’t deserve her good life. Only prettier people deserve nice things. That’s never been a sore spot for me.

And yall, I’ve suppressed a lot of shit these past three years. Like this wreck FUCKED ME OVER. I’m over here getting headaches and motion sick all the time. I can’t travel. But it could be worse. I’ve mostly recovered! I’m so lucky! Yay me! You’re not allowed to be sad cause other people have it worse. And my career took a reset. Major pay cut. Lost the job I liked and was super proud of. Was gonna be a SME — the pinnacle goal of my software engineer career — on a very important and prestigious contract. Now, after having not been able to do math for a few months and not having worked on complex software for three years, I don’t anymore. I decided to step back from development cause I’m not sure I’m good enough anymore. Not like imposter syndrome is a thing anyway. Let’s talk about it in front of 20 – 30 people.

And to finish off this fun time — let’s interrogate you in front of everyone. Because that’s what it it is. An interrogation. When you testify, you don’t just get to tell a lovely story — you just answer questions. About EVERYTHING. Remember everything your lawyer told you to say. Your dates better be right and your numbers gotta be right and you better remember everything exactly that happened three fucking years ago cause it better match up completely with what you said in your deposition almost two years ago. And don’t talk to much — only answer the question asked. And don’t nervous laugh — stop that!

So yeah. That case ripped my fucking face off. It was a highly traumatizing experience. It opened old wounds. It made me super self conscious about pretty much everything. But it’s over. It’s totally over. And we “won.” My lawyer is handling the shit ton of people I now I owe money to (gotta pay back everything BCBS paid for my medical — gotta pay back everything short term disability gave me. The doctor’s depositions come out of my part of the winnings. And the lawyer gets 40% before any of that). So the jury awarded me my lost wages for the 7 months, plus a very small bit for medical and pain and suffering. After everyone gets their cuts, I get like 3 months missed wages.

So it sounds like it wasn’t worth it. Cause I only got 3 months when I missed 10. Yes, again — I got fucked by this wreck. Life isn’t fair. I got a ton more than the 7k insurance offered before I got a lawyer. And while I will not see a third of it — State Farm had to pay into 6 figures for this case after the verdict, the trial, the failed arbitration, and putting me though bullshit by dragging this on for three years. So making them pay is part of the win. Fuck them.

So that’s over — I should be shitting rainbows! Instead, I’m looking around like a fucking mac truck just hit me. What the fuck just happened? Why is that allowed to happen? I really over estimated my mental fortitude. I shouldn’t have just asked Mr C to come, I should have asked K and K2 to come too! I got killed even though I won.

And listen, I’m petty. So like I know that when I married Mr C, I agreed to be a financial squirrel. We want to retire. And he doesn’t believe in any debt — even good debt. So our number one priority is to own this house ASAP. We can’t even buy new furniture for the house until we own it. So this money will all be put directly to the house. I acknowledge that. And that’s fair. He was 100% the sole breadwinner when I was out of work and it cost us our savings. Do I agree with his view that even mortgage debt is bad debt? No, I don’t. It’s OK to have a mortgage in my opinion. And K’s about to get a new car and I don’t like driving my tiny car cause I want a bigger car that wins in the car accident rather than gives you a brain injury. So were I single, I’d be buying a new car. But I’m not. So I asked if I could keep just a tiny bit to pay for a bit of my sleeve tattoo and Mr Cs first gut reaction was to question why I needed it when I was supposed to be saving for my tattoo. That hurt. I mean he’s letting me have it, that was just like his gut instinct cause Mr C’s gut instinct with money is that he is a squirrel and it must all be saved. NO TOUCH.

Also, my laptop, which is my only computer, is freaking out something major this week so DON’T DIE, PLEASE.

Anyway — my last week with the shit show. This should make me happy. I should have just been able to coast through it flipping middle fingers to everyone, but shit show is a shit show. I went directly from court verdict on Wednesday to work. Had anything that needed to be done get done? Nope. I have spent the past two weeks requesting an inventory of the classified items in my possession. I have requested multiple times that a witness inventory them and sign for them. I got nothing. So I had to stay late on Wednesday and I sent a really bitchy email to everyone. I stated that I tried to get these items inventoried and signed over. And I took and made my own inventory of all of my assets. As my contract was terminating, I could not be held responsible for these assets and anything missing is not my fault because security has refused to give me their inventory.

That’s terrifying. Because shit show IS A SHIT SHOW. They lost 11 pieces of government property JUST THIS WEEK. So you think they’re not gonna lose my shit? The classified shit that was last signed for by ME? Making ME RESPONSIBLE FOR IT. They could just accuse me of stealing it if they want. So I printed out my bitchy email and attached the 9 emails to security and supervisors requesting that this shit be taken care. And I told them I’d be keeping it in my own records in case you ever wanna blame any of this on me.

So that was extremely stressful. Thankfully, two hours before I left for good, they inventoried my shit and at least verified that they saw it. Thank you.

What else? Well, there’s something wrong with the HVAC. We had it fixed up and repaired last summer but towards the very end of summer the downstairs stopped cooling. I didn’t care to pay someone to fix it as winter was coming and we had just been through this. Then two weeks ago after the crazy winter storm, my kitchen starts smelling like spray paint chemicals. It wasn’t the refrigerator or tankless hot water heater. So I correctly (it turns out) surmised it was the HVAC unit leaking chemicals.

So, did you catch the part where Mr C has lordship over the money? I have lordship over the practical shit. No offense to my actual rocket scientist, genius husband, but he’s worthless with that shit. I wanted to put it off cause I got enough on my plate but Mr C is afraid of dying from toxic fumes so I had to get someone out to look at it. Now, our AC people are not in our city. So to pay them to just come look at the unit is $175 for travel. And they’re honest guys so they’re the first ones to tell me to get someone local to do it. So I figured, just for diagnostics, lets get a local company out to diagnose if it’s leaking chemicals. They’d be $109. They did correctly figure out that our coil had a total blow out, all the chemicals are gone and told Mr C it’d be $3,100 to replace the coil but they’d just replace the unit. As I had told him to do, he told them to fuck off. I mean, he doesn’t curse but whatever.

BTW, the internet says a replaced coil with labor should be between $800 and $2000 dollars. The highest price estimate I could find was $2500. Also note, our coil is aluminum, not copper so it should be cheaper. Why are the trades people allowed to just rip you the fuck off? They’re allowed to just pull a number out of their ass and expect you to pay it. WTF?

So then I call our guy. I tell him the problem we think we have. Luckily his minion is already in town on another call so he’ll pop over. Awesome. So I met with him. I love this guy because he always teaches me so much. He explains everything and how it works and whats what. Anyway, the other people were right. He said personally, he’d just replace the coil. However, we want to know the numbers on the coil vs the unit and calculate whats cheapest in the long run since our units are 7 years old. So his boss is gonna figure that out for us. Oh, and the coil was like totaled so all the chemicals spilled out at once. And yeah, we’d have smelled that. But like there’s no more even left to spill out.

That was Thursday evening. That night, it got kinda fucking cold. It was 60 degrees downstairs. The heater had been fine, the AC was the problem. I had tried flipping the breakers off and back on but nothing was happening. So when my fingers started needing gloves while I watched youtube, I decided to text the minion and ask if like maybe he did something to it? Thankfully, minion calls me immediately and profusely apologizes. He thinks he disconnected the unit and forgot to hook it back up. But he’s willing to walk me through getting it back on. Sweet.

So I grab some shoes and venture out into the freezing cold darkness to wade through giant japonica bushes to get to the HVACs God forbid we have lights over there so I’ve got this guy on speaker phone and am using the flashlight function of my smart phone. He tells me what to do, it’s pretty easy and he tells me what to check for. Sweet, it’s running. So I return to the much warmer 60 degrees of my house with him on speaker phone and ask him about those estimates. He hasn’t talked to his boss yet so he doesn’t know if he priced the coil or bought one or what. Cool, we’ll figure it out next week.

So Mr C heard and comes down to get the gist of whats going on. I explained it and hes all twenty fucking questions about HVACs and what they guy said and estimates and did they buy the coil even though we haven’t even told them if that’s what we wanna do? We don’t know, no ones talked to the boss. Well are they gonna buy the coil without asking us? I DON’T KNOW. I don’t even care. We haven’t committed to buying it so even if they did order it, it does not concern us!

Jesus H *****, can I get a thank you? I just fucking fixed the heater. If it had been up to him, he’d have frozen all night and paid them to come back out and hook it back up themselves! I’M HANDLING IT. He won’t ask contractors a thing buy he’ll play twenty fucking questions with me about it. I was kinda angry.

However, I’m not the silent type so a little later I pointed out he hadn’t thanked me for fixing the heater. Because if I know what I need, I ask for it or at least hint at it. So yes, he totally thanked me for fixing the heater. And pointed out how great I did this week handling all this bullshit and he was very sweet. He’s a good husband so I keep him.

What I didn’t know, was like how fucking upset I was about all of this bullshit. I apparently need more than some pats on the back to recover from this — whatever the fuck this was. So yeah, I’m waking up to panic attacks. And because the office (his lair) is right above the living room (my lair), I hear everything. And last night he was telling his friends about he trial and we this and we that and we’re doing this. Which I get that we are a unit. I also get that when you’re talking to your friends you are the point of reference these people have. But my bitter ass just kinda had a guttural reaction of “WE aint doing shit. I’M DOING IT.” Not that I said anything — cause when I’m angry it’s best if I just go to bed. But then I woke up with another fucking panic attack.

Jesus, one day I’m gonna have a heart attack and just ignore it thinking it’s a panic attack.

So yeah. That’s where I am. So it’s Sunday of my four day weekend before I start my new job. The new job that terrifying because what if it sucks? Or I can’t do it? You know, normal new job feels. So uh yeah. I should be relieved cause the trials over and I’m done with the shit show _

PAUSE

There was another thing. Friday at like 4:50PM I got an email for monies owed from the Shit Show. They are saying that I have to pay back my sign on bonus. I do not. And I replied that they better reply ASAP that they’ve figured out their problem or they need to send me paperwork stating why the original terms of my contract have changed and I need to give them to a lawyer. But it’s a 4 day weekend so I won’t hear back until Tuesday. So surely this was an error and they will fix it. But as it stands they have now said that not only do I not get my final paycheck, but I OWE THEM MONEY on top of that.

Yay, that’s not stressful at all. Not because Mr C freaks the fuck out about every dollar and now we’re talking about me taking a muli-thousand dollar hit.

So, Mrs C, why aren’t you like just so happy to be done with the trial and done with the shit shit show? It’s a four day weekend — and no job stress cause you’re between jobs! Why are you having panic attacks? WTF?

I THINK I FIGURED IT OUT.

I’m still sitting a bloody mess on the side road after being hit by a mac truck going “what the fuck was THAT?” This week was the “THAT.”

I miss my Jack Jack

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I miss my Jack Jack. This past few days have been a new wave of sadness. I suppose it started with one day this week when I got home. You know how, when you get a new pet, you realize all the stuff you have to change? No more toilets left up, no open doors, no leaving food out — stuff like that. Well, I’m trained for Jack. So I came home and was careful not to swing open the door because he’s always right there waiting for me to open it. But… he’s not anymore. Like for that little minute I forgot he died and expected him to be behind the door.

Then, I had to read all the “The Loving Reaper” comics. Link here on WEBTOON. They’re PSA comics that are beautifully drawn and depressing AS FUCK. And a lot of them involve pets and terrible human beings, and obviously, death. So that didn’t help. I know.

Then, I went saving off old photos. This wasn’t related to Jack. We did our annual gingerbread tradition and I wanted to look at past gingerbread parties. I’ll get into it in another post — but it led me to going through all of Facebook and even back to Flickr for photos. So I also took the time to download all of these old photos (yes, you can request a zip file of every photo you’ve ever uploaded to Facebook). I saved them to my google photos for good future keeping.

LOOK AT MY SWEET BABY! Look how little he was! Those cheeks!

And here, he’s being all curious and adorable.

And I miss his little foot prints.

I just miss him so much. He loved when I’d come home and scoop him up like a baby and rub his belly and talk to him. He’d turn on that fake hamming-it up purr that sounded like a motor while I rubbed his “polka dots” (belly) and stuck my finger between his toe beans so he could squeeze it. He was such a good boy. He loved me so much. I really miss him a lot.

The past few nights (maybe 4ish?) I’ve been getting terrible anxiety at bed time. I’ll get anxiety tummy and then a tight chest.

I also started following this local cat place on Facebook and so that’s had adopting another cat on my mind. I think it’s just upsetting me though. I want JACK. I want Jack back. I want my biggun’

I’ll hide that cat page for now. I’m just upset all over again. Now I’m getting anxiety attacks every night. Ugh.

My Thrilling Life

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Just so yall understand my life when I get home. I’m lazy. I just wanna sit on the couch and watch youtube. Youtube is because I’m too lazy to commit to a show or movie. Right now, it’s not playing cause any minute I’m gonna get up to go pee and get a yogurt. I’ve been about to get up to go pee and get a yogurt for over half an hour at least. Probably close to an hour if we’re honest. And I’m just sitting here scrolling going ‘”holy shit, is that TOUCAN?”

Do I like toucans, or care about them, or need a toucan ornament? Nope. But apparently some part of my brain cares. Maybe I don’t see toucans a lot or something.

And now that I’m posting this — why does that ornament say 2023? It’s not 2023! What the fuck? Now I gotta go click the damn ad I just screenshot so I can read the fine print on it.

Just a second…

Oh. Ok. It’s an ad for you to buy their yearly membership to get exclusive ornaments. So you’re buying next year which is 2023.

I can go pee now. And get that yogurt.

Mood

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I had a lovely brunch with my friends today at the swanky brunch place. It was delicious I had bacon and strawberries with my omelet. But I find myself in a mood. A mood best described as “Jesus Christ, I hate the human race.” No, not because of my friends. Just a general mood.

I’m anxious. My husband has a wound on his back that is going to take forever to heal and I’m worried about him. One, I know it makes him crazy anxious. But two, He doesn’t get enough good food to heal a wound like that. A male of his weight should get 51 grams of protein a day according to the internets. And I’d be surprised if he gets half that on a normal day. And that’s the normal amount — he needs even more than that to create new skin to cover and fill a hole bigger than a quarter. Like it’s gonna take a long time to heal anyway. But I’m worried it won’t heal for him. I’m legit worried that he just doesn’t eat the nutrients his body needs for that kinda construction work.

So I have that on my mind. I also felt a bit like I didn’t have much to contribute to conversation at brunch. I adore my friends and these are two of my besties. So I know they don’t care. But I don’t know, I feel so boring and uninteresting. And when I’m anxious I’m just not super chatty. So I feel like a boulder, does that make sense?

Plus I had to go to the grocery store after brunch. In the pouring rain. Hence the “hate the human race” mood. Like seriously, I hate these fucking people. So many fucking people. And really, just no. You can’t do anything right when I’m in this mood. But really, is it so fucking hard to slice meat? Why is only one meat slicer working? And I’ve waited here longer than those people wanting sandwiches, so why do they get their meat cut before me? We should be taking turns! It’s my turn! MINE! They weren’t even here when I started standing here waiting on your slow ass. Slice my fucking deli meat. And bitches, MOVE. Also, put on your goddamn shoes and get off your phone.

Mood.

So I bought two big pumpkins and two little pumpkins. Cause fucking I deserve it. And I came home and put them on the porch and the counter. And then I remembered those gorgeous yellow mums I’ve been coveting when I drive by the nursery. So I went out again and got two of those. And went back to the store for 4 more pumpkins.

I did not get the mums I coveted so much. They’re fully bloomed and GORGEOUS. However, the ladies at the nursery recommended these instead. They have not bloomed yet but will in two weeks. And they should bloom all the way through Thanksgiving — longer than the ones I coveted. So these will be gorgeous in two weeks.

I’ve never put a bunch of pumpkins on the porch for Fall. But honestly, yall I deserve it. I’ve been so drained lately. I even saw the doctor about how shitty I’ve been feeling and he couldn’t help. Not emotionally shitty, thats just a passing mood. I mean physically shitty. I’m so tired and keep getting hot flashes and headaches. And I need to be open to new jobs which is crazy stressful. So seeing something cute on my porch really brightens my day more than you would think. When I’m coming home I’m looking forward to it. And I adore pumpkins. So when I see something bright or decorative when I pull into the driveway, it really lifts my spirits. It’s like “this is why I work.” Ya know?

If some asshole steals my pumpkins, I’m gonna fucking lose it. FYI.

The Joys of Home Ownership

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Don’t get me wrong on this post, I LOVE our house. I love living in our house. This post merely reflects on all the pains and costs of home ownership we’ve had in less than a two month span.

1) You remember the AC went out. I wasn’t aware it needed regular inspections and cleanings. So a stupid handyman got me for $450 before I hired the guy who installed it to really fix it. It needed a new part and some freon and a good cleaning. Haven’t got the bill yet, but thats gonna be around $1,000.

2) Had the septic tank pumped. I was pondering the AC and what else we might have neglected in our 6-year-old home. I looked it up and those things are supposed to be inspected every three years. Oops. So I just had someone come pump it.

3) I had to install new cartridges in the pool filter. After I installed them, the manual release valve decided to start leaking. I’ve ordered the part and hope to fix it myself.

4) Last night mailbox 3.0 bit the dust. RIP, 3.0. These things are averaging a two year life span. Thankfully I put a call out to the neighbors to see if they’d help me install a new one. G offered his old mailbox and to install it later. GREAT NEIGHBOR! Let’s here it for G!

Boob Party!

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Well, we finally had my boob party! I wasn’t feeling it because I’ve been so self conscious about my stomach being bloated. Some of it’s swelling, some of it’s weight gain. So I feel like shit. I’ve also got acne and crooked boobs. But hey, we scheduled this like two months ago. Also, realistically, naked me now is still a gazillion times better. It’s always a journey, right?

I had worried that it would be too hot — both the pool and the weather. But thankfully, Friday we had some horrible storms that brought rain to cool the water and take a few degrees off the temp. So it was actually a beautiful pool day. Everyone got in and floated around! Well, not Mr C; that’s not how he rolls. D even went home to get his swim suit since he hadn’t brought it. The water was perfect.

So what made it a boob party? Well, I have boobs and A made boob cupcakes!

See! A rainbow of breasts. Some even with piercings.

It was a really good time, so I’m glad we did it. Mr C sat in the shade and kept us company on the tanning ledge. The daddy flamingo float came out for the baby flamingos to follow around. I surfed across the pool on a float. It was amazing, you had to be there. We got some great photos. And K and K2 both think my hair is looking a little thicker. Great day!

Some Things 6/12

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1) Two days ago, I decided to start working out again. My legs are jellofied again. I am not approved to work out chest yet, but I can work out my lower body. So I did 3 minutes (about 50) squats and 4 minutes of knee tucks on the floor. My legs have not forgiven me yet. They be hurting. Sitting down, getting up. They be hurting. My ass hurts too.

2) Boobie Party is next weekend! It snuck on up on me. Do I have to get rid of all the weeds around the pool now? Ugh. I’m not sure if I’m gonna do it after work one evening or just say fuck it.

3) I finally bought some clothes that fit my new boobs! I got a shirt from Lane Bryant that’s their “Fit and Flare” — holy shit. It looks so good, I ordered two more (different styles, same cut). I also got a dress I can wear braless. Never could have worn that before! Now if Torrid would just ship those capris I ordered last week…

4) A thought for the road:

A Good Thing: Flamingo Lights

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My sister posted a video on Facebook of these little guys bobbing around her pool. She has eight – her own little flock. I immediately wanted some for my own pool so she told me she got them on Amazon. I looked them up and saw that they’re lights too! I couldn’t hit the “buy now” button fast enough!

First of all, they’re adorable. Their blank stare just seems to follow you. They bob around like they’re dancing together. Any breeze sees them turn their heads and race in a new direction. Sometimes they seem to follow you around the pool. And then when it’s too dark to swim, they light up and the fun continues.

They take on an anthropomorphic personality. We had a party and they were a huge hit. Everyone loved them. We found ourselves wondering who they liked the best. Which one is the fastest? And is the loner always the same flamingo or does it change? My friends even added accessories to them so we could see if the loner was always the same flamingo – maybe that one’s heavier or defective. The one we put the sunglasses on was the ladies man. The one with the dress ribbon around its neck seemed to be the most solitary. By the end of the party it was decided that they must all have names and the girls needed eyelashes.

This isn’t exclusive to us. My sisters want to give theirs identifiers so they can bet on which one will win the race across the pool. These little guys just take on personalities.

My first idea was different colored ribbons making bowties around their necks. However, it occurred to me that I have a box full of leis for parties so I got those out. I made mini leis for the guys and used some of the extra petals to make flower corsages for the girls. And yes, they got eyelashes thanks to a sharpie.

They’re freaking adorable. You absolutely need a flock of your own for your own pool. I cant walk past a window without checking on them day or night.

Hotter than Hell

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Our air conditioner was down most of this past week. It was 86 degrees (fahrenheit) upstairs. Eighty-six degrees, yall. It was crazy hot in here. It started Friday.

Friday, our neighbor texted me that our air conditioner was freaky loud. Well, what am I supposed to do about that? I agree, it’s louder than normal but I don’t know what to do about it. So I ignore it. Then Saturday, we realize both the upstairs and the downstairs are about 5 degrees warmer than they should be. Well, fuck. So I haul my fat ass up into the ceiling to check on the attic unit. Do we know the weight restrictions on those flimsy pull down stairs? No, we do not. Do we like heights? No, we do not. Do we have any desire to ascend into the insanely hot upper reaches of the house? No, we do not. Will Mr C go up there instead? No, he will not. Mr C is not remotely handy.

So into the attic we climb. The unit is frozen. Fuck. So we shut both floors off completely. We spent that first night in the Master. After that, I moved to moms room with the windows open and a box fan set in the window blowing on the bed. At least we’re not so far into summer that the nights are hot too. From then on, we just lived with all the back and side windows open. We don’t have window screens on the front of the house, so we couldn’t open those (according the Mr C). That sucks because the Master and Mr C’s office are on the front of the house. On night two, Mr C joined me in the cooler room.

So the weekend of AC breakdown was a holiday weekend. I called our home builder and asked for a repair man referral. He sent me the info of the guy who installed our system. I called him up on Sunday. He lives about an hour and 20 minutes away. He says he’d be happy to come out and look, but he’d have to charge his holiday rate of $175 an hour as opposed to the normal $150 an hour. He’d also have to start charging when he leaves his shop and stop when he gets back. So he encourages us to find someone more local to save money. Nice guy.

So I find a referral for a handy man on Next Door. He can come look at it on Monday for a $100. Great. He ghosts us. I message him and call him and get nothing. Then, at Six in the evening I get a message that he can come look. Hell, I’m desperate so, awesome. Come on. He climbs into the attic and the unit is still frozen as fuck. It’s a damn iceberg in hell. He can’t do anything until it thaws out so he says he’ll come back Wednesday. He’s a handy man so I had him put the screen back on the bird window (another source of cool evening air!) and fix a door in the entry way. So it wasn’t for nothing.

Wednesday rolls around and he returns. Thankfully, the units have thawed. He goes to the outside unit and puts in a pound of freon. Then he starts it back up. It still sounds like shit but it’s blowing cool air. He informs us that we need a new compressor. It’s not supposed to sound like that. He chats for a while. Compressors are expensive as fuck. They’re the most expensive part of the unit. He informs us it might be cheaper to get a whole new unit. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. He recommends running they system because “there’s not much more damage we can do.” He says he’ll just take $350 instead of the quoted $500 since he didn’t fix it completely. That’s nice of him.

Well, I tell him to get us prices and Mr C and I decide we need a second opinion. If we’re gonna drop thousands of dollars on this repair, we can afford to have the installer come out and give it a look over.

So the next day I grab the warranty papers. Oh great it has a five year warranty! But it’s six god damned years old. God dammit. So I call our insurance agent to see if any of this is covered. Nope, we didn’t buy an extended home warranty. Fuck. So I call the original installer back and he’s happy to come out. In fact, he’s working two jobs on this side of town that morning (by now it’s Thursday) so he wants to stop by ASAP. But I’m back at work full time and Mr C is working in the office because it’s hot as balls at our place. So I explain to my new boss (I started the new job last week) that my AC is broken and it’s 90 degrees. I need to meet the repair guy at home. After he gets done, I’ll be sweaty as fuck so can I pleeeeeeeaaaaaassssse work the afternoon from home? They let me do that. AWESOME.

OK so first, give me a break here, I don’t know much about HVAC systems. So I explain the situation to the installer. He says none of what I’m saying makes any kind of sense. He thinks the guy was talking about the coils and not the compressor. But I’m sure he was talking about the compressor, I have Mr C to back me up on that. We researched prices. He asks which units are freezing up. I tell him the attic and the outside. He says which unit in the attic. I say there’s only one. He insists there’s two because we have two systems. The attic aint that big, so I know there’s only one. Everyone — us, the builder, and the installer — realize we need the installer to come see what the fuck is up.

So the installer comes out. He looks things over. I need to know things. First, I wanna know why the downstairs and the attic unit are connected on the same system. He explains that they are the same system. I’m lost, we have a downstairs system and an upstairs system. He says yes. The owner on the phone thought we had two SPLIT systems, hence two units downstairs and two in the attic. We actually have one split system and one all-in-one unit. The unit the handyman said was the downstairs system is just the hot air condenser for the upstairs unit in the attic. One system. Ok, that makes a lot of sense now on why they’re both frozen. But you said we have TWO systems. Where’s the other? It’s that giant ass other box outside. I had just assumed that was the heater. He informs me that both systems are heat and cooling combined. The one upstairs is a split system. That’s the unit the guy put freon in. Then there’s a whole other system over here in this box that is the downstairs. Handy man never did ANYTHING to that box/system. He just ignored it.

Handyman didn’t know Jack shit and took my $450 bucks! God dammit! Most expensive door fix ever.

So Installer has nifty looking gauges and tools and starts to work. First, Mr C and I have always been terrible about replacing our air filters. Which is doubly bad because I buy the good ones that filter more shit out. Thats great, but means they should be changed even more often. We don’t do that. I fess this up to the installer so he has the full picture. Also, our coils have never been cleaned. So they were filthy. We didn’t know that AC units needed to be cleaned so OK. Now we know. Apparently people usually do it every spring. They have the guy come out and check the freon and clean the coils. He said they say every year but we could get away with every two. Awesome, now we know. So dirty filters and dirty coils. Thats it? Well no, both systems need another pound of freon each.

Fucking handyman didn’t even put in enough freon. FUCKER.

Ok, so filters, coils, freon… The fans busted. Thats why it’s so loud. We need a new fan and motor. He needs to get the parts but that will take a few hours. So he tops off the downstairs unit and it’s running great. Sweet! I can work downstairs in the AC!

So he leaves for lunch and returns a few hours later with parts for the other system. Which I now know is a two part system. He informs us the motor had some busted ball bearings. Not a good reason why — we’re just lucky like that. Handy man had found some “goop” in the fan and thought that might have been why. I show him the goop and ask about that. He says no, that’s just the material that was covering part of the compressor and it’s pretty common to see that fall off. Fucking handy man making me look like a giant dumbass. We’re just unlucky on a bad part that’s out of warranty. Nice.

So we had filthy filters that hadn’t been changed for a lot of months, filthy coils that hadn’t been cleaned in 6 years, low freon, and a busted fan. No wonder both systems went down. But they’re fixed now and we’ve learned some lessons:

  1. Change your air filters on time.
  2. Yearly or every other year, you should have the AC people come clean your unit and top off the freon.
  3. Always use the people the builder refers me to. Even if those people tell you you should find someone more local. Always trust the builder. Builder is good people and only works with good people.
  4. If someone is honest enough to tell you that they’re too expensive and you could find someone cheaper — HIRE THE HONEST PERSON. Good people are hard to find. Someone who’s honest about being too expensive is honest enough to fix your shit cause they know what the fuck they’re doing.

Pool Season!

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The pool is open! And it’s the PERFECT temperature: 82 degrees. But I can’t get in yet! I need to wait at least a week after the drain removal. Damn it.

I can’t even sit and enjoy it because the weeds around the pool stress me out. I can’t weed-eat because I’ve got drainage building up that i might have to have aspirated. So I can’t be “too active.”

BLAH! I still haven’t decided what to do about work.