The first pictures of the new windows...I was up bright and early to do the last of the jobs before the window man got to the house. I scooped bewildered cats into their carriers and dropped them, protesting, at the vet. That would take care of them for the day. Then I went home, got ready for work, and prepared to let the window people in so I could leave. I waited. And waited. I was told that the crew would be there between 8:00 to 9:00. At nine, I called the window place. No answer. I eventually got an answer about quarter after, and was told that a truck had been late coming in. The crew would be there between 9:30 and 10:30. I had already told Alan that I would be late and he had been pretty good about it, but I now had to call and explain the delay. He was non-committal, but I know him well enough to know he was not Best Pleased. But there wasn't much I could do about it.
I had just called the office again, at 10:35, when they pulled in, over my flowers again. I have to say, I was not very impressed with the crew. It was a rather unimpressive-looking man, a woman who appeared to be his wife/girlfriend/whatever, and what appeared to be their son, who looked to be about 15. This after I had been told (during the sales pitch) that I didn't want to trust my windows to a "handyman", and that installing windows at this point was something that you needed a skilled person to do correctly. But the man had a good handshake, and an air of competence (I seemed to feel, perhaps a tad optimistically). He assured me confidently that the delay in getting there would pose no problem in completing the job today. I swallowed my reservations, went to work, and just tried to not think about it.
I had asked him to call me if there was going to be an extra day needed or anything because I would have to make arrangements to board the cats (their rules are that you aren't supposed to have any animals in the house while they are there), but he assured me this would be unnecessary. I thought they might give me a call when they got through (I had left my cell number in case they needed me), but I heard nothing. I tried to think that "no news was good news", but there was a seed of unease deep within me. That unease grew as I made the journey home.
I soon had more than one reason for it, however. The car started acting up again. It began bucking down the road shortly after I left work. That's the best way I can describe it. It feels like the clutch is dis-engaging and re-engaging. It's done this before, but this is the worst episode I've had. Usually it only does it for a minute or two, but this was more than one episode. I tried stopping and re-cranking it, but that didn't help this time. I made it to the vets and got the cats. I promised the Bomber that if it would just get me home I would take it to the dealership tomorrow. Of course this would happen right at Christmas. The worst possible time.
I made it home, engine light on all the way, to find the crew still at the house, wrestling with the garden window in the kitchen. I had been afraid they would leave this job for last, and my fears appear to have been founded. All the windows were in except for that one. They apparently could not get it seated properly, and there was much cursing and running in and out of the house going on. They had called in another guy, but things didn't seem to be going well.
I had planned to take Eve out to dinner and to see Donnie's Christmas tree tonight as a treat. I had already called her to ask her to drive. I now had to call and apprise her of the window situation. We agreed to go on to supper, and drop back by the house afterwards.
We went to Capri's. We both love Capri's. Our family has been eating there for years and years. Both Eve and I pre-date the manager there. The food was as good as ever, and we enjoyed the meal. I got a call during supper from the window man. They were knocking off for the night, job un-finished. He said he is booked tomorrow as well, but can come back on Wednesday. So that's two more days that the kitchen has be torn up. But I'd rather have it done well than done quickly. What could I say? Of course I said that was fine.
We went back by the house, let the cats out, locked up, then headed for Greer. Eve has never seen Donnie's tree, although my Mother has been to his house with me for several of his big Holiday Extravaganzas. As I thought, the tree reminded her of her father's huge one he used to put up every year. Poppy (her father, not my Mother's father - sorry I know this is confusing) was really IN to Christmas. Their house always looked like something out of a picture book during the holidays.
We had a nice visit with Donnie, complete with a tour of the house and of course the new wine cellar. Eve liked Marty and fell in love with Donnie, as people do. It was nice for us to go off and spend a little time together. It made me feel good to do something special for her after the difficulty last week.
She dropped me at the house and I picked through the remains of my house getting ready for bed. They had apparently broken some of the old windows getting them out. There was broken glass all over the kitchen and bathroom, which I found out after slicing my foot open. I should have known better, I suppose, but I had seen the wife sweeping out the house earlier. I patched my foot and swept the floor. I admired the windows a bit, and hung blinds back in the bedroom. My old blinds aren't going to work because of the way they were mounted, but that's a good excuse to get rid of them. Fortunately I had some spare blinds from when Mother bought her patio home. I put them up and went to bed. I'm dreading seeing to the car tomorrow. Sigh. Yet another thing to deal with. I'm really tired of having more stuff to deal with. Living in downtown Baghdad isn't helping. I have to keep reminding myself that this is temporary. I hate living in disorder. It's very depressing to me. It reminds me of when Michael was getting ready to leave, among other things. But it will be wonderful when it is over.
I had just called the office again, at 10:35, when they pulled in, over my flowers again. I have to say, I was not very impressed with the crew. It was a rather unimpressive-looking man, a woman who appeared to be his wife/girlfriend/whatever, and what appeared to be their son, who looked to be about 15. This after I had been told (during the sales pitch) that I didn't want to trust my windows to a "handyman", and that installing windows at this point was something that you needed a skilled person to do correctly. But the man had a good handshake, and an air of competence (I seemed to feel, perhaps a tad optimistically). He assured me confidently that the delay in getting there would pose no problem in completing the job today. I swallowed my reservations, went to work, and just tried to not think about it.
I had asked him to call me if there was going to be an extra day needed or anything because I would have to make arrangements to board the cats (their rules are that you aren't supposed to have any animals in the house while they are there), but he assured me this would be unnecessary. I thought they might give me a call when they got through (I had left my cell number in case they needed me), but I heard nothing. I tried to think that "no news was good news", but there was a seed of unease deep within me. That unease grew as I made the journey home.
I soon had more than one reason for it, however. The car started acting up again. It began bucking down the road shortly after I left work. That's the best way I can describe it. It feels like the clutch is dis-engaging and re-engaging. It's done this before, but this is the worst episode I've had. Usually it only does it for a minute or two, but this was more than one episode. I tried stopping and re-cranking it, but that didn't help this time. I made it to the vets and got the cats. I promised the Bomber that if it would just get me home I would take it to the dealership tomorrow. Of course this would happen right at Christmas. The worst possible time.
I made it home, engine light on all the way, to find the crew still at the house, wrestling with the garden window in the kitchen. I had been afraid they would leave this job for last, and my fears appear to have been founded. All the windows were in except for that one. They apparently could not get it seated properly, and there was much cursing and running in and out of the house going on. They had called in another guy, but things didn't seem to be going well.
I had planned to take Eve out to dinner and to see Donnie's Christmas tree tonight as a treat. I had already called her to ask her to drive. I now had to call and apprise her of the window situation. We agreed to go on to supper, and drop back by the house afterwards.
We went to Capri's. We both love Capri's. Our family has been eating there for years and years. Both Eve and I pre-date the manager there. The food was as good as ever, and we enjoyed the meal. I got a call during supper from the window man. They were knocking off for the night, job un-finished. He said he is booked tomorrow as well, but can come back on Wednesday. So that's two more days that the kitchen has be torn up. But I'd rather have it done well than done quickly. What could I say? Of course I said that was fine.
We went back by the house, let the cats out, locked up, then headed for Greer. Eve has never seen Donnie's tree, although my Mother has been to his house with me for several of his big Holiday Extravaganzas. As I thought, the tree reminded her of her father's huge one he used to put up every year. Poppy (her father, not my Mother's father - sorry I know this is confusing) was really IN to Christmas. Their house always looked like something out of a picture book during the holidays.
We had a nice visit with Donnie, complete with a tour of the house and of course the new wine cellar. Eve liked Marty and fell in love with Donnie, as people do. It was nice for us to go off and spend a little time together. It made me feel good to do something special for her after the difficulty last week.
She dropped me at the house and I picked through the remains of my house getting ready for bed. They had apparently broken some of the old windows getting them out. There was broken glass all over the kitchen and bathroom, which I found out after slicing my foot open. I should have known better, I suppose, but I had seen the wife sweeping out the house earlier. I patched my foot and swept the floor. I admired the windows a bit, and hung blinds back in the bedroom. My old blinds aren't going to work because of the way they were mounted, but that's a good excuse to get rid of them. Fortunately I had some spare blinds from when Mother bought her patio home. I put them up and went to bed. I'm dreading seeing to the car tomorrow. Sigh. Yet another thing to deal with. I'm really tired of having more stuff to deal with. Living in downtown Baghdad isn't helping. I have to keep reminding myself that this is temporary. I hate living in disorder. It's very depressing to me. It reminds me of when Michael was getting ready to leave, among other things. But it will be wonderful when it is over.
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