Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Moral to the Story - Never Unpack the Shoes
You may ask, why the shoes? Just throw them in the closet. Right? Wrong!!! Our 1959 Wonder House doesn't have a closet, per se, in the master bedroom, just peek-a-boo cupboards. Since day one, where to put my shoes, has posed a question. And several times, I have gone to solve it, and each time the very night before I planned to unpack those darn shoes crisis unfolded and unfolded big.
Strike One. That was the evening I came home to find the flood in the only fully working bathroom in the house. For those who have may not read every single nugget of Stroller Lane, we have only one fully operational bathroom and that one flooded within a week of us moving in. It is a very precious commodity if we want to keep ourselves from doing anything more than dining alfresco.
Strike Two. The dishwasher (which is about the only new appliance in the house) broke at the three week mark. The repair man fixed it on a Friday. He didn't fix it correctly. We were doing dishes by hand all weekend. Due to our very old plumbing, the repair work broke two more things and there was more flooding and the repair work took another couple of days. By then, the dirty dishes were piled higher than the Golden Gate Bridge.
Strike Three. Due to no fault of us or our home, the High Voltage transformer in our back yard exploded and nearly lit all of the nearby homes on fire. The fire department and PG&E spent a good portion of the evening at our home. Then PG&E spent a good portion of the next two weeks in our backyard, but we are proud owner of a brand new and much safer transformer that providers power to several area homes.
And Your Out. A dentist told me in 1999 that I would "someday soon" need a root canal on one of my back teeth, it turns out that I needed it now!!! And "now" for the first time in my life I didn't have a dentist. Crap!!!! I found a really good dentist (Great). He referred me to a VERY CRAPPY endodontist to do the actual root canal. For all my nursing school friends, this guy gave me a post-procedure gram-negative anaerobic infection - the really bad stuff - I never saw him change his gloves - the jerk. And worst of all, I had the infection on our 15th wedding anniversary, total and complete bummer. I made Scott's favorite dinner and then went to bed at 8:15pm and was very, very sick for 10 days.
So as I said, I am not unpacking those darn shoes. In my past attempts there has been flood, fire, and disease. If I try again, there may be famine. On an upside, I have started calling architects, so maybe we can just solve this another way and renovate and build an actual closet.
That is life in the Stroller Lane.