The Money Pit. Part 3.


*This is an ongoing blog, and is a continuation of The Money Pit Parts 1&2.

When we closed on our new home there was still severe damage from the flood that had occurred two weeks before closing. We had made arrangements with the previous owners and they signed a contract stating that they would fix all the damages left. Unfortunately, the previous owners didn’t have to be around for the repairs. I did.

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

My door bell rings and there they are. Ray, and the “I love Jesus” guy. The reason I call him the “I love Jesus” guy is because he wore a shirt that said as much. And for more than a couple of weeks I really didn’t see him wear anything else. He either had a whole bunch of these shirts, or just the one. And he wore the shit out of it. Thinking that pulling up the hardwoods would be an easy job and a fairly quick one, I didn’t expect to completely lose my mind. I was wrong. The longer the job went on, the wackier I got.

When they first came in I pretty much left them alone and they really didn’t talk to me. They played their radio and I played with Mini-Me. The only thing I couldn’t stand was the Country music they played. I would much rather pound my head into the wall repeatedly, or even worse, watch Gigli again, then listen to Country music for an extended period of time. Just when I was about to open the flue so the rouge critters that lived in there could attack at will, they left for lunch. They left, but didn’t take the radio with them and also didn’t turn it off. I sat there staring at it all the while thinking, I think it might be time I introduce these boys to a little Snoop Dog. When my three year old took it upon herself to change the station to the 70’s station. A girl after my own heart.

Ray and the “I Love Jesus” guy came back from lunch and walked in to “Play that Funky Music White Boy,” a smiling me and a dancing three year old who had now decided that their tools belonged to her. Being the good mother I am I immediately pointed at my daughter and said, “She changed your radio.” Yeah, I threw her under the bus. Hey someone’s got to take the fall. Ray just smiled and that’s when I noticed that he was in fact missing a good portion of his chompers. He looked at my daughter and said, “Well, if she likes it, we like it.” Then those funky white guys went back to ripping up my floors.

Not long after the floors started getting torn up, Warren the cranky plumber came over. He also worked for the flooring company. Warren wasn’t much older then Ray and the Jesus guy but he seemed ancient. He never smiled and when he walked in the door I was sure I was about to be grounded and sent to my room. Warren went to the bathroom that had the damaged hardwoods and ripped out my sink and toilet. I was just sitting there while three strange men were in my home destroying everything in their path. Don’t people normally get shot for behavior like this? Warren put my toilet and sink in the garage, which was fine, but I was potty training Mini-Me at the time and I had to keep a good eye on her. Her toilet was now missing and I was afraid she would eventually find it and use it.

During the toilet removal I had mentioned to Warren that I hated the wallpaper that was in the bathroom. It was burgundy and gold striped with elephants as a trim. Every time I walked into that bathroom I felt the need to charm snakes and ride a camel. I know there was a theme to that bathroom but the theme needed to go. Warren then told me that if I was going to get rid of the wall paper I should do it before he put the sink and toilet back in.

Excited about the possibilities for the main bathroom I couldn’t wait to start tearing down wallpaper. But I couldn’t do it till the flooring guys were done. I waited patiently. The new carpet was put in. The hardwood floors looked beautiful, and all that was left were some repairs on the stairs. Once the stairs were repaired the hardwood guys could come back and put in the borders on the floors. The house was looking great, and I was feeling good. Now the flooring guys and I had to part ways. This is my FB post of my imaginary break up with my new boyfriends.

MD: Well it’s official. The hardwood guys and I have officially broken up. It was a blow out! There was a lot of yelling and throwing things. I don’t know how ugly it would have gotten if the carpet guys hadn’t been here to break it up. Not because they were worried about either one of us. They just didn’t want us getting blood on the new carpet. Venetian hardwood flooring guys…you broke my heart!

Dawn: Are you okay? Call me if you need anything! I’m so sorry. I still have the number to the plumber I told you about.

Christina: I’m here for you. It’s okay to cry. Let it out.

MD: Dawn, I’ll take the number to that plumber if it’s all right. In all the anger the flooring guys left and never put my sink or toilet back in. BASTARDS!

Dawn: Well after they hit the bar and bitch about you, they’ll be back.

Christina: A plumber is not your answer Stacy. Say no to crack. Crack is wack!

Dawn: Wait! Trust me. You haven’t met this plumber. I would never steer you wrong.

Mark: Hold on…the flooring guys called me and they have a different story. They say they caught you touching the carpet and squeezing the padding in a seductive way. The flooring guy dumped you to save face. He says he can never lay flooring again. He is going to change his profession. He is going to be a bell ringer for the Goodwill outside Wal-Mart. Stacy you need help! You are a profession killer. And leave the poor plumber alone.

Dawn: Now that you mention it, Mark is right. I’m going to need that number back.

MD: Mark, those guys can’t be trusted! They have been sniffing floor glue all day. Yes, I admit I was caressing the carpet. But it was nothing sexual. We have more of a brother/sister relationship. As far as the padding goes…okay fine you caught me. I have a problem.

Mark: Stacy why fight it? Even mental people like you have needs. Just have them wear condoms. Then you can officially say, “They never touched me.”

MD: Exactly, it never happened if I don’t remember it.

Dawn: COOL! That means that a lot of stuff never happened to me. Nope, never touched him.

I know I’ve made a lot of fun of the flooring guys but to be completely honest they were really great guys. They are very talented wood workers and I plan to have them back to do some work on the stairs. If the house doesn’t kill us first. But don’t be too sad. They’ll be back.

To be continued…

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

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