You know him, you love him: Big Blue. This winter coat is good for -40 degree temps. When it’s this cold out, I don’t really care if I “look” fat. I was wearing my “other” winter coat up until last week, when the mercury plummeted below zero. Now it’s layers, layers, layers of clothes just to walk outside. Bailey doesn’t even like long walks in this weather.
We are moved into our rental. Not unpacked yet, but moved. I *did* find the toaster yesterday, so I am feeling optimistic. Although there is another problem: Both toilets are of the water saver variety. This means they can’t handle a good poop. I already clogged the downstairs one. Mr. Porter fixed it. This morning I was unable to flush the upstairs toilet. I removed the lid to the tank which contained an ice-cube-tray size bucket of water above the regular tank. I thought Mr. Porter was exaggerating when he told me that the other day, but no, he was spot on.
The sale of the house ends TOMORROW, with the closing scheduled at 11 am. I can’t wait until this is over. It’s been a nightmare of phone calls to various utility companies.
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of waiting for the cable guy. The only thing worse than waiting for the cable guy is being stuck in the house while he is here. He took two hours to run a cable so that I could get internet access. He then wanted me to sign off before the internet was even working. Ugh. He spoke in secret code to the girl on the other end of the phone, “IT’S not letting me close out the order.” I broke your code, buddy, I know you’re talking about me. When he finally left, three hours later, I noticed that the bright orange cable that he ran from the front to the back yard had not been buried. I had the pleasure of calling the cable company again today to set up yet another appointment so they can bury the cable–in the frozen ground. I should take video of this one.
Several weeks ago, I had to skip my Weight Watchers meeting because I had eight people in my bedroom. The house inspector had found mold in the attic. The hatch to enter the attic is in the closet of the master bedroom. Remember the good ole days when the hatch to the attic was in the hallway with a drop-down ladder? Nope, ours needed a step ladder placed in the master closet. Which meant of course that I had to remove all my clothes first to avoid having them ruined by fiberglass insulation, mold, sheet rock dust, or to just avoid a ladder being pushed into the good blouses. Yes, yes, the mold has been all taken care of. Check.
I called for Garbage pick up. They informed me that they would be leaving 2 cans, one for garbage, one for recycling. My address is “64” and they left the cans at “54”. Am I supposed to truck my garbage and recycles to the neighbor’s yard each week? The employee laughed hysterically when I told her they left the cans at the wrong house. If it hadn’t been a blizzard out there, it might not have been too awful dragging the cans to my house with one hand, while holding Bailey’s leash with the other hand. I was not amused. Neither was Bailey.
My Realtor informed me that I should call the electric company and tell them to take a reading as of today, but *not* to shut off the service, as obviously we don’t want any frozen pipes. When I spoke with an employee at the electric company, she had no idea how I could do this without shutting off the power. I erred on the side of leaving the power on for one more day, and risking being charged for one extra day, rather than having the pipes freeze and not sell the house. I just can’t even go there.
So even though I suppose this Arctic Blast does make my butt look big, I will keep pushing forward and hope that tomorrow is a better day.