The Money Pit. Part 7. Miguel’s Revenge!


This is part of an ongoing blog. To read it from the beginning read the Money Pit. Parts 1-6.

With Warren and his prostate off to Lord knows where, I felt like I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. All that was left was some formica on the stairs and the rest of the hardwoods. I have NO idea why we needed formica on the stairs, but at this point I had stopped caring. They could have covered our floors with frozen yogurt and nails, and I wouldn’t have blinked. But considering what these guys used to glue the formica, I’m surprised that these men has enough brain cells left in their heads to even be able to say “formica.” Thank God my three year old was at her Grandparents house or she may be walking into walls right now while hitting herself over the head with a plastic spoon.

The formica guys were here at the same time as my favorite hardwood guys, Ray and the I love Jesus guy. I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know what to do, so I made everyone coffee and offered them muffins. If they were going to be in my house they might as well enjoy themselves. I had noticed a spot on the hardwoods that looked lighter than the rest, so I showed it to Ray.
“Do you think we can fix this?” I asked.
Ray went over to the spot, hunkered down and eyed it like a pool shark eyes his next shot. “It looks like someone put tape on the floor,” he told me.
I just couldn’t figure it out. Tape? Now why would someone put tape on the floor… MIGUEL!

Oh yeah. Miguel. My evil bathroom de-paper-er and painter. He had put paper down while he was painting, and had apparently taped that paper to my newly stained hardwoods, and to hold the paper down he taped it to the brand new hard wood floors. So not only had he stolen my paint, put my light fixture in upside down, and weaseled me out of an extra $20, but he had also torn the finish up on the new hardwood floors. I hate Miguel.
“That’s odd. I don’t know what could have happened,” I told Ray, batting my eyelashes.
“I think I can fix it,” he assured me.
“I’m gong to kill Miguel,” I mumbled to myself walking into the other room.

By 2:00 in the afternoon, the Formica guys are completely caffeinated and totally high from the formica glue when my mother-in-law drops Mini-Me back off at the house. So now I have Ray, the I love Jesus guy and a three year old to contend with. Ray and the I love Jesus guy were now putting in the last of the borders of the floor and then they were officially done. Ray warned me, “The part of the floor I repaired is still wet, so make sure no one touches it for at least 8 hours.” 8 hours, sure, I can totally do that.
“Ray, I’m on it,” I assure him.
We say our goodbyes and I get his number for some future work we would like to have done on the house once we can afford it. So more or less Ray should probably not hold his breath for that phone call.

I blocked off that particular section of floor with chairs to remind myself not to walk there. Of course, I might as well have used M&M’s, because my toddler was now fixated with seeing what mommy was trying to protect. We have a playroom in our house loaded with toys, DVD’s, puzzles, and games, but right now, there was nothing more enticing to my daughter than putting her tiny foot on that floor board. Frustrated beyond belief and developing a formica-glue induced hangover, I had no idea how to keep her away from her new obsession for the next 8 hours. I decided that my best bet was to take her into the garage and let her bang on the drums that the previous owners had left behind for her.

After about an hour of playing in the garage, she was hungry and was no longer interested in the forbidden floorboard. I was getting some dinner ready for her when I noticed something on our floorboard that just didn’t look quite right. It wasn’t shiny in one spot like it had been. I got up to investigate and there they were, 3 tiny paw prints. I was so busy trying to wrangle the toddler I had totally forgotten about the cats. I’m not sure who did it. It was either Sassy or Kook who had put the permanent footprints into my new gorgeous hardwood floors. I’m sure after they did it they were probably upstairs high-fiving, flinging cat shit onto the stairs and yelling, “ATTICA! ATTICA!” I hate those two and have patiently been waiting for them to die for years now, and I know they know it.

Ray was gone and there was nothing I could do about it now. But at least it was quiet in my house for the first time in weeks. We had almost two entire days without incident, when I started noticing that it was getting really, really hot. Was this a hot flash? I’m too young for menopause, aren’t I? I got up from playing with Mini-Me and went over to check the thermostat. It was currently 82 degrees inside my home. Poptart must have turned off the A/C last night. But when I looked, the air was already in the “on” position. Humm, that’s odd. So I flipped the switch off and back on, and…nothing. This is not happening. It may only be 82 degrees now, but this is Texas in September, and it was only going to get hotter.

To recap: I hate Miguel. I hate my cats. I’m starting to hate my house. As usual, I turned to my Facebook friends for comfort. This was the post for that day.

MD: I’m going out to buy myself something nice. I think some gasoline and some matches ought to do it.

Michael: Are you starting a bonfire?

Dawn: Hey! I made the same purchase for myself! Haven’t used them yet. I’m waiting for that “send me over the edge” moment. I like living dangerously!

MD: Why yes Michael, I am. It will be about two stories high and will have shiny, new hardwood floors so it ought to go up like a Roman candle.

Dawn: WEENIE ROAST AT STACY’S HOUSE!

Christina: Well that’s one way to get the tape residue off the floors, but doesn’t Lowes have a tape remover?

MD: True story. The flooring guys told me the best way to get stuff off the floors was to use lighter fluid. Call me crazy, but I think that may be a tad irresponsible.

So the Air Conditioner guy and Plumber # 2 were both going to be here the same day. The thought of potentially having both problems fixed in the same day made my toes curl. But then again this was my house and things weren’t going to be that easy.

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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