Forgive me everyone. I tried to send Pip with a message postponing the next episode of The Three Ingredients, but she pouted and wouldn’t even look at me.
Yesterday I celebrated a small personal “positive” hoping it would get me back on track, but here I sit, making excuses despite that.
I haven’t been able to buy a home in this capitol of overpriced housing. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been repeatedly invaded by bargain basement contractors whom I have no choice in choosing. (You should have seen the guy I had to allow into my home Thursday — chewing gum and winking every few sentences. But that was an improvement on the one with the creepy serial killer voice. Imagine talking to him on the phone, expecting him to say something like “Well, Clarice – have the lambs stopped screaming?“)
I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man — but seriously would you want to meet him alone inside your house?
Anyway, there are two separate things going on with my home, one of which is truly major, both of which were preventable (but I didn’t have any say in that either). The other one involves an appliance delivery — something that I offered to pay half the cost of a new one when I moved in five years ago, but my offer wasn’t considered. In stead I’ve paid a lot more on my electric bill until the dinosaur finally succumbed to the proverbial tar pit.
But there’s no need to put you through the agony of that soap opera. Suffice to say that it has not concluded either. However, the guys for this secondary drama showed up with no appointment (again) yesterday — Saturday, when I was trying to write this weekend’s episode. Now I have a new appliance that can’t be installed, and nothing to use meanwhile. You really don’t want to know more than that…
I think Granny Fanny went chasing the delivery truck with her broom to swat the men for tracking mud through her house and knocking down a shelf in the kitchen. Pip must still be upset from last week, because she just won’t talk to me. Andy wanted to tell his side of the story, but now I’ve no idea where he is.
If the merman would come back, I’d dive into the ocean with him. Or hop onto ghost-rider Caleb’s fire-snorting horse and ride away into the sunset.
Of course this is all on top of the work issues I’ve hinted at now and then. Suffice to say that I’m ready to go back to my old joke. (Now what is she talking about? you ask.) I used to joke that I would buy a used RV and move to the desert (rent free), and put the cats on a leash and send them out to catch lizards for our dinner. But then someone told me about a TV show called “Breaking Bad.” Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was in that line of business! But without the illegal stuff, I’m back to the RV in the desert idea.
It is my sincere hope that you’ll come back next weekend. I promise, that neither serial-killer-voiced repairmen, uninvited delivery men, nor an RV in the desert will prevent me from having the next episode ready by then!
Sheiks and Sheba’s — I wish all of you a beautiful weekend and sunshine super hugs!