July 27, 2006
If This Was My House
I am so over apartment/condo living. There was a knock at our door bright and early this morning, and a man from the property management office asked to come in:
"Hi, I'm here to fix the faucet."
"I'm not having a problem with my faucet."
"Well, I got a call from you."
"It was neither me, nor my husband who has been in California most of the week. Our faucets are fine."
He was confused. I tried to help, "Was it a man or woman who called?"
"I don't know."
"When did they call?"
"I don't know."
"What's the problem with the faucet they reported?"
"I don't know."
We stood at this impasse for a long moment... me not letting him in, and him not wanting to abandon hope that my faucet was really broken and I was merely playing hard to get. He caved first.
"Maybe it was the outdoor faucet."
"Maybe."
I am so totally done with other people trying to get into my home. Let's remember fondly the repair men in Highland Park, who knocked once (sometimes), then used their key -- necessitating the use of the door chain at every waking moment because I was nursing Trevor.
Then let's reminisce about our landlords the Valeos, who decided one day that mini blinds were insufficient window treatments, and arrived in my apartment unannounced with lovely floor-to-ceiling Italian lace draperies, then hung them while ignoring my protests. Mr. Valeo stood on my computer desk and broke it while I shouted at him to get down. They got theirs when, as expected, gooey toddler handprints ended up all over the lovely floor-to-ceiling Italian lace draperies.
And, most recently, the gentleman who came to repair a bathroom sink base cabinet which became waterlogged due to a leak. He replaced the floor shelf most expertly, but nailed the new wood right into the soggy and mildewed sides of the cabinet. Um, thanks.
I'm really done with the "If This Was My House" game.
Comments
You are great!! You write so well. I have quite a chuckle over this one. I LOVE your sense of humor. Mom