Tag Archives: home repair

Hard Lessons

DSC07911

Learning Disabilities

I have no water in my house. I’ve had no Internet for weeks. My dog is at the vet’s having major surgery that will cost $1,000 U.S. that I need to go to the bank to withdraw along with another $1,000 I offered to loan to a friend to buy a car they need to buy who just called to say they need the money tomorrow! Problem is I can’t get to the bank because I’m hoping for a call from Telmex saying they’ve figured out my internet problem––and the plumber who is going to try to come at 3. All this and to top off the perfect day, I have amoebas and the new medicine I got yesterday has given me a headache and fever. Or I’m just stressing out and the entire kit and caboodle is giving me a fever and headache.

I’m beginning to fear I’m no longer able to handle running a house. The floor is covered by boxes of three different types of tile I have laid out to try them out. I have a dozen things to complete before I leave in a little more than a week. I’ve been trying to get a haircut for a month, but no time to do so. Gripe gripe gripe. You would think I would learn, but somehow time and time again I am getting into these high-stress situations where hyperventilation is the norm.

From a perfectly organized house last night my house has turned into a disaster area. Files from the file cabinet lay piled on the headboard/case of my bed—leftovers as I looked for a brochure of the water system to try to figure out what particular tube I need for the purification system. My bed is covered by the contents of six different big baskets I pulled down from the closet to look for a pair of gloves to handle the tube I bought after visiting four different water supply places. No, none had a man to come install it. Yes, I broke it installing it. Good thing I had one glove on—all I could find.

My desk is covered by little slips of paper concerning tile types, prices, business cards, discarded amoeba meds (wrong variety for what the lab told me yesterday) and old VHS tapes (what are those doing there?) Earlier, when I needed to call the water place to see if they could locate another purification tube light (answer was no) I couldn’t find one phone of four that I have in the house that was still in its cradle. Then when I did, turns out one of the lost phones was clicked on so I couldn’t call anyway. Search house again. Finally found it on the bookcase by the doggie domain. What in the world was it doing there and where in the world are the other 3 phones that are still lost? Last night I found them all and restored them to their cradles. Do I have Telmex poltergeists infesting my house every night?

Yes. At.The. End. Of. My.Rope.

Should I move? Can’t stand to think about that. Perhaps there is someone pleasant willing to trade free rent of my casita for a few managerial tasks such as dealing with electricity, phone, internet, gas and minor construction. No, I don’t need a keeper yet, but my house certainly does. It seems to be reaching that age when everything needs attending to. Walls aren’t crumbling, but floors need replacing, the walls painted less than a year ago need a second coat, and someone needs to search the Virginia creeper vines to find those hummingbird moth caterpillars that are pooping bee bees all over my terrace table and the steps outside the doggie domain.

Yes. At. The. End. Of. My. Rope.

I need to pick up Frida in an hour and still can’t get hold of Pasiano or Yolanda to come let the plumber in. If the plumber comes. And even then, I won’t have purified water—just water, at least, to flush toilets and wash with.

Headache. Chills. Frustration. Breathe. No one has died, at least today. Calm down. Was I always such a fussbudget? Yesterday I was screaming “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” when I had for the zillionth time lost my keys. They were no place. How could I be so dumb???? It was past time to leave for something important and the other set of car keys had vanished into the void 4 years ago. This was my last set. Last chance. I looked in the outside locks, the inside locks, the bathrooms, kitchen, under the bed, on the nail on the wall where I usually hung them. Emptied out my purse. Twice.

I imagine, now, neighbors passing in the street hearing this madwoman scream invectives at herself. With all my doors and windows open, they must be able to hear me as clearly as if they were inside my house. For 15 years, I’ve overlooked this fact until once earlier this year when all three of my dogs were barking and I roared “Frida!!! Stop!!!!” above the din, a friend protested,“Judy! You are worse than the dogs. You should hear yourself. You must scare the neighbors!” my friend uttered this softly. Unlike me.

I had to shout to be heard above the dogs, right? But did I need to scream at the keys?

I found them eventually and was only 10 minutes late to the appointment I started to leave for half an hour early. I found them by calmly retracing my steps which took me eventually by my open closet door with the new file cabinet inside—my keys dangling from its lock. I had gone to get some necessary file, but the cabinet is so new it had not yet been added to my key recovery route. It has been now.

I am, you see, capable of learning. It’s the remembering that is the hard part.

The End (Perhaps)

Postscript: Just now the lovely lovely girl from Techno Agua called. She has called all over town and located the right water purification tube light. It is 60 pesos above the price I paid for one this morning. Is that a problem? No problem. The plumber can come at 3. I just called Pasiano and although he still is not answering his phone and although Yolanda is working and can’t come to let the plumber in, her husband has agreed to do so; so when he arrives, I can go, hopefully, to the bank and then to get Frida. The tide is turning. Maybe today will turn out to be slightly less frustrating than earlier happenings indicated. 

An hour later: good news and bad news. I got to the bank in time to get the $1,000 U.S. for the surgery and the $1,000 for the car, but when I got to the vet’s I was informed that Frida still hasn’t awakened and so I need to leave her for the night. They assure me they’ll feed and water her when she wakes up, but although I understand I can’t take an unconscious dog home, nonetheless I know she’ll be traumatized to wake up in a cage away from home and to have to spend the night there. Also, I was supposed to sit the info booth at the Lake Chapala Society tomorrow so will have to try to find someone to sit in so I can go get Frida and take her home. Always a new thrill. Still no internet at home, so I am at the mall. Getting to be a regular mall rat as they have free wifi and otherwise it is $15 U.S. a day to use my phone as a hot spot as I was over my limit in just four days.

Are you tired of my whining yet?

 

The Prompt word today was “Learning.”

An Unquiet Home

An Unquiet Home

The confrontation mounts in stages:
her angry words, his silent rages,
until the kids have all been supped,
put to bed and been tucked-up.

Then behind their bedroom door,
he and she begin their roar:
“You always . . . ” are her words of choice
erupting in her blaming voice.

She’s splitting hairs, he contradicts.
It’s not as bad as she depicts.
The few times that he deigned to stray,
no matter what she now might say,

were exceptions to his usual rule.
He’s keeping track.  He is no fool.
It’s hard to get it up these days.
and so sometimes perhaps he sprays

where he shouldn’t. He’s sorry  for it.
Why is it that she can’t ignore it?
But still her words she must repeat:
“Why can’t you simply raise the seat?”

She shakes her head.  He starts to cringe.
He’ll get the can and oil the hinge.
It will be easy to raise the seat.
He’ll keep it dry.  Pristine and neat.

And so he does upon the morrow
find the solution to her sorrow.
He puts the seat up silently
before he deigns to take a pee.

But lest you think the battle’s done,
in truth I fear it’s just begun.
Later, when she takes her turn
she emerges with a look most stern.

His hands go up in consternation.
Now what’s the cause for her oration?
More shouted words.  More angry frown.
Why can’t he put the loo seat down?????

The Prompt: A House Divided–Pick a divisive issue. Write a two-part post in which you approach the topic from both sides.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/a-house-divided/

The Drop of the Third Shoe

We have been told our electricity (and thus, our water) will be off all day, so I’ve filled all the sinks and the tub and every pitcher in the house with water to aid in rehydration, flushing and dirty dishwashing.  Now, an hour and a half past the time I was told we’d lose power, we still have it.  Strangely enough, last night I found my bedroom door was permanently locked and could not be opened by key or turning the knob.  Same was true of my back door…and my kitchen door knob is about to fall off.  I finally had to take my bedroom door off the hinges as I had to go outside to get from my bedroom to the rest of my house.  Everything seems to be going on strike at once.  I’m waiting for the third shoe to drop.

Update:  Give me a hammer!  Give me a screwdriver! Give me an ice pick! Give me some WD-40!  Give me some muscle! Give me two magazines and one copy of Three Cups of Deceit (which is exactly the same thickness as the crack under my bedroom door).  And what have you got?  S-U-C-C-E-S-S!!!!!  I fixed both of my doors.  Took one off the hinges, rejigged the doorknob (thanks, ice pick), WD-40’d it excessively, realigned the door with a lot of muscle and various combinations of the book and magazines and hammer, and got the pins back in and the lock works—and opens!  The back door just took WD-40 and the hammer.  I’m still not so sure that someone didn’t try to jimmy it open as I had to pound the lock plate back flat, but—the third shoe that dropped was, I hope, the fact that I did two of the repairs myself and I am now able to freely move through my house…. Applause, please.  Comments will do!

The offending door, dismantled

The offending door, dismantled

And Diego zipped into the open door, ran to his cage, nosed the door open and slept through the entire thing.  This is not punishment.  He loves his little cage--for sleeping only.  He is a puppy and still has the chews.

The repaired door, back on its hinges.

And Diego zipped into the open door, ran to his cage, nosed the door open and slept through the entire thing.  This is not punishment.  He loves his little cage--for sleeping only.  He is a puppy and still has the chews.

And Diego zipped into the open door, ran to his cage, nosed the door open and slept through the entire thing. This is not punishment. He loves his little cage–for sleeping only. He is a puppy and still has the chews.