a lesson in patience

This morning I was excited.
I woke up early ready to go get my new car... I woke up early and discovered I'd forgotten to buy dog food too.

My appointment at the bank- for the car- wasn't scheduled till noon but my dog demanded food, so I wandered my way downtown. Too early for the bank. Too early for even the dog food.
I reached into my wallet and discovered my secret stash.

I've been making sure I always carry two bucks for the bus. Just in case. Somehow I've gone 8 months without a vehicle and haven't taken the bus once. I mean, I've tried to take the bus. I've gone to stand at a bus stop only to be picked up by a friend along the way. So my two dollars in coin has sat in my pocket/change purse for months... I decided to bid it farewell.

I bought myself a fancy coffee and waited for the pet food store to open.

And it started to rain.

And I thanked my lucky stars that I was picking up my new car today so I wasn't going to get wet in that rain.

And I got my dog food.

And later I went to the bank.

And my car wasn't ready... so I rode my bike in the rain.

Again.

 At least the coffee was worth it.

The basement diaries

Every day is a bit of an adventure down there in the basement. Yesterday's adventure is one I could have done without.

I've gotten over the black lung- my sneezing is to a minimum after spending a few half hour sessions with the shop vac (new basement rule: until the walls and floor are painted, there will be no more sweeping, only shop vac duty).

The next job on the to-do list was to take down the "grow-op closet". I don't think anyone grew much in there, or at least for very long, because the water damage to the wood was so minimal. It was pretty easy to tear down, they really weren't carpenters... it was more of a hobo/hobbit project than anything I've every jury rigged together... Every screw used in the project was different, some had been painted, most had been worn so badly on the heads that I had to pound them out with a hammer from the back... Though I will give them credit where it's due- that use of the cut up hockey stick nailed to the wall really did offer the closet ceiling extra support.

The closet ceiling.

The closet was built under the left hand side of the pantry, and extended under the spare bedroom. The entire thing was made from chipboard... which loses most of it's strength with water damage... this is why it was so easy to pull apart. Remember when I moved into the house? Chris pulled out the floor boards and subfloor in most of the pantry because it had been saturated with cat urine? He didn't have to do anything to the left side of the pantry, we just replaced the trap door that covers the basement stairs...

I'm just going to copy and paste what happened last night from my facebook page...

Dear: People who grew pot in the "closet" that they built in my basement. 

I realize you haven't lived here in years, and you probably don't think about the closet you built very often, but I just wanted to let you know I think about you often. 

Currently I'm cursing you, your children and your grandchildren for the special gift that closet ceiling just provided me... several years worth of DIRTY cat litter from the home owners' pets that came and lived here after you.... that litter just fell on me while I removed that ceiling.  

Excuse me while I go vomit and think of more curses to heap on your heads.
Very sincerely, Lesley Marie

That really happened.
Now I'm gagging again.

some things (rated R)

Tonight, for the first time since I moved into my house (nearly 3 years ago),  I'm going to bed with the doors locked. (well, other than that time I accidently locked TLS out of the house and he had to come in thru the window...)

I have an odd neighbour. She mostly keeps to herself... I'm pretty sure she's got some sort of developmental delay... but who really knows. Tonight, I was sitting on my couch when a man came to my door. He was very abrupt, introduced himself as my neighbour's brother, and asked me to come to the porch next door... I thought from the shortness of his words/manner that maybe my neighbour was sick, or had something important that she wanted to talk to me about, so I told him I'd be a second and went to get my shoes. He hollered at me "beer or wine?" and walked away without waiting for an answer.

I then entered into one of the strangest conversations/situations of my life.

The brother was the rudest, most foul mouthed person I've ever met... seriously. Twice I nearly just walked away from the foulness that came from him. After 30 minutes I couldn't take any more... and I took leave, saying the mosquitos were too bad for me... but before that happened....

he insulted my neighbour COUNTLESS times, insulted LOUDLY two other neighbours out for a walk, admitted it was the first visit to his sister in 42 years- he lives a few blocks away, insulted his mother, bad mouthed his niece, made fun of the clients from his job, mocked my neighbour's dead husband, called every person in his conversation "shit for brains" or "fuck hole", turned to my neighbour and sneered/said (about me) "I'll be having her later"- then turned and stared directly at my breasts while he talked about hockey, and then finally, asked me if I liked to "fuck around".

That last one? I responded with my "work voice" that he was asking a personal and inappropriate question, and he responded with "I'll take that as a yes then" and asked some other lewd questions/proposed we go back to my house..  I turned to my neighbour and said "I understand why you haven't bothered to invite him over for 42 years".

I'm a little shaken by the whole thing.

The doors are staying locked. He's sleeping on her couch tonight, after she told him he couldn't.

I'm thinking that her family situation explains why she's so odd....

paddles and fuzz

I have a serious issue going on at the house.

Yes, she's a cute baby (a loaner).

Yes, he's a large bunny (a beast).

Yes, I should build the shoe rack (those boots).

But let's focus. That thunder bunny with the giant paddle feet? He's still molting. LOOK at that fur!

I've vacuumed every day for the past two weeks. I'm getting annoyed. This isn't something you can sweep up. Dust bunnies. Bigger than normal sized bunnies.

The second "break in".. where "second" means the Third.

Ok, quick recap... Last Saturday night, my car was broken into (use the term "broken" loosely, as I don't lock my car... as there's nothing in it that they want... remember that very first time?)

The boys involved were found- as my neighbour is a detective/super sleuth , but nothing happened with the cops... well, because this is the 'Burg.

LAST night.. Yes, one week later.. Babykate comes to my door and asks if I know that my car's gas tank is open. Thinking she means just the door, I go out to close it.... and find that.. no, the gas cap is off too- not just an open door. 

My first thought is the kids have come back- who wouldn't? It's a small town, they know how they were found out- they feel like they need to do some pay back. That's my first thought. So, I turn to Babykate and say "I'm going to call and report this in case it's related".

As I start to walk back to the house, I see an officer at the end of the street talking to the Uncle - the Uncle of the kid from last week.... So, I decide to walk down there instead. I walk down and say "excuse me, when your done can I speak to you?" The officer says no. 

... and then tells me to go to the station instead. 

Doesn't ask me anything else... doesn't check to see if maybe what I want to say is related.

So, I walk to the station... because at this point, I'm halfway there... yeah... I live a little more than a block from the police station. Did I mention that the kid lives above a security company? 

Anyway.

I walk to the station.... and as I'm walking there, I pass the front of the building... standing at the front is the kid. The kid looks at me... then starts to laugh AT me. I don't even bother to say anything to him... I'm sure at this point he has something to do with my open gas tank. Two more police cars pull up as we walk past.

I sit for 45 mins in the front of the station, waiting for a cop... there are no chairs, they close the waiting room. I sit on the step. Babykate goes to meet the others for dinner (right... that's where we were headed before we were side tracked by the car issue). Officer comes, takes my statement.... It's now two hours later. The kid is in custody, I've missed dinner. I'm grumpy. 

AND now I have to get my car towed.

I'm not starting it in case they've put something in the tank. It's not worth having to pay for the engine to get fixed if they have put anything in there.

Life is complicated.

ok, this story is getting long... there's a lot more to write... including the part where I called the real estate agent and BLASTED her on the phone. (I will not be apologising.... I'm still convincing myself not to call her back... she was very much in the wrong.)

so, short version... I went for my walk/run later in the evening...  and who do we pass? That's right.... the kid. He's out of custody, and standing on a corner loudly and drunkenly telling some guy about the cop that hit him in the head. 

Right.

and the beat goes on.

I may or may not have some unsavoury things to say about our local police at this moment in time.
I may or may not be likely to vote that the O.P.P. take the place of the local force in our township.
I may or may not have missed dinner tonight with some lovely people tonight, and a later evening of movies with friends.
I may or may not have spent 2 hours in the police station, only to have the officer come out, and when I took the time to introduce myself (though he already had my name) be snubbed the handshake and the introduction of himself. (I did take note of his name and badge number as he sat across the table taking my report).

And I may or may not have something wrong with my car.

more tomorrow when I'm not still so pissed.

showings.

another house showing today.

as in... friday night.

as in an hour after work... because yeah, I want to come home from work and clean crap and then leave after work. That's always what I want to do.

when we were moving.. and for the first three weeks, I always used "movin to good times" as my label for a post about our house.