Temper Tantrum

The old proverb is that "patience is a virtue." Well sometimes I would like to throw my virtue out the window and throw myself on the floor kicking and screaming like I am three years old again.  I realize as a teacher that we encourage children to use their words and express what they are feeling, but I completely understand that sometimes they are so overcome they just want to yell, scream, cry, and act totally irrational because it make them feel better.

That's where I am at with this house right now.  For those keeping track, to date we have :

-owned the house for 2 years and 3 months
-lived at my parents house for 11 months
-DIY demolished for 4 months
-spent 9 months securing a loan
-blown through $ like it's water to sell our FL home and front the cost of permitting, demolition, dumpsters, counter tops, bamboo flooring and exterior doors. (Not to mention the quick trips to the store for garbage bags, leather gloves, work boots, hard core dust masks, 3 sawzalls, saline eye drops and lunches for our family who volunteered during our DIY portion of the demo).

I am officially penniless and pissed off!  It has taken us as long to finance our renovation as it takes most couples to have a baby!  My parents have been very gracious, but we need our own space with our own stuff and they need their house back!  I know this is an excessive amount of exclamation points but I don't care!

Ok, temper tantrum complete.  Deep yoga breath in... hold for a count of 5... exhale...

Looking at our house pictures from last week you will see that quite a bit has been accomplished in a short amount of time.  We have new walls (interior and exterior), a new garage, and a shingled roof.  When the crew is working we move quickly, when they go off on another project, we wait (insert sound of crickets chirping).

After waiting three business days we are scheduled to have movement at our house today, but we are realizing the importance of having every line item clearly spelled out.  Apparently electrical bids essentially include electrical outlets every 12 feet, gfi outlets anywhere near water (sinks and exterior), and a single junction box for a light in every room.  Insulation is the standard rolled kind I remember as a kid with the pink panther on the side.  Plumbing quotes cover a standard four piece bath with a toilet, sink, and shower/tub combo.  EVERYTHING ELSE is an upcharge.  I tell you this because as I mentioned at the beginning we are blowing through money the way Hollywood blows through coke!  Please do not follow my lead on this and stick to the Boy Scout's motto,  "always be prepared!"

Damn you HGTV and Pinterest!  My obsession with recessed can lighting, a walk in shower,spray foam insulation, and quartz counters is going to leave me setting up a tent in my unfinished garage.  Looks like a summer full of beach days, biking, and hiking which are all free and probably a lot better for me than throwing my almost 31 year old body onto the floor, since I'm not entirely sure I would be able to rise again on my own accord...

The Importance of Following Directions

I am 30 years old, and even in my hometown I have a tendency to get completely turned around.  My car has done more donuts than Tim Horton's bakes in a day!  In college I had a good friend Matt who found my ability to get lost highly entertaining.  I do not care to count the number of times I would call him for directions, of course this was pre-navigation system days!  A typical phone exchange looked like this:

Me: Matt, I need your help, I have no idea where I am!
Matt: Where are you trying to go?
Me:  I'm (walking, driving, riding the bus).
Matt: Ok, but where I you trying to go?
Me: Home.
Matt: Where are you coming from?
Me: The (highway, mall, bar).
Matt: Audibly laughing and probably shaking his head...That doesn't help!

And so I provided Matt with amusement due to my utter lack of direction and uncanny ability to be perpetually lost.  Now almost a full decade later, my navigational skills have improved minimally at best.  Today for example, I had to go to a sales center to pick out my windows and doors for our house. When the receptionist returned my call letting me know I could come in this afternoon she followed up by asking if I needed directions.  I told her I just needed the address and I would type it in my smartphone, but she proceeded to insist on giving me directions explaining that it was tricky to find because the sign wasn't very big.

She then gave me what I deemed to be simple directions (it was on a major road that I recognized!) so I hastily scribbled them down on an envelope I had in my purse and 20 minutes later I was headed that way.  The key point she emphasized was to look for the BIG RV dealership and slow down because it would be the next drive next to a white house.  Unfortunately not only am I bad at following directions, I also half listen at times where I assume I already know what I'm doing. 

I swung right into the drive after the RV dealership and immediately had that sinking feeling that this was one of those times I should have paid better attention.  When I first saw the abundance of No Trespassing Signs, like a regular gumshoe I quickly deduced that I was in the wrong place.  Having no choice but to drive further in to turn around I nearly soiled myself when the next sign warned that all trespassers would be shot, and survivors would be shot again!  Then the adjacent sign went on to proclaim that there is Victory in Jesus!  Apparently once they shoot you, they hold your hand and deliver the Lord's Prayer to cover all their bases and your multitude of sins.

When I pulled one of my trademark 360's I almost had a full blown panic attack when a car that had pulled in behind me was blocking my escape route and I seriously considered jumping the curb in my economical compact.  As I drove onto the shoulder and flew out of there like a bat out of hell I quickly ascertained that they probably were not intentionally blocking me in, but I couldn't bring my eyes to face the rear view mirror and find out.

If I had actually listened to the directions I would have saved myself a near heart attack and looked for an RV dealer and driveway with a white house on the LEFT, and not on the right side of the street.  To make matters worse, my not so near death experience was for naught, because the showroom sent me home with computer print outs and brochures which I could have accessed online from the comfort of  home!

I consoled myself by binging on carbs with a bagel the size of my head and a quart of cream cheese since it was too early in the day for a drink and I had to have my wits about me for a potential client interview this evening.  A definite note to self though, if going to the low rent district where most construction trades tend to have their workshops: if  I refuse to pack heat then I at least need to pack the mace!  Oh, and if I'm going to carb load to deal with the stress, I should also pack some Tums.

Facebook/Fakebook (Why Can't We All Get Along?)

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook that is comparable to Taylor Swift's love life.  The big difference is I love it, then hate it, but I don't write songs about it. Although blogging about it seems to put me precariously close to that category!

Can't we all just get along?

When I first joined  few years ago it was to see what all the buzz was about. I had rushed out of my home state after college graduation like my hair was on fire, and it seemed like a great avenue to stay in touch with the people I had left behind. What I never accounted for was the staggering amount of friend requests I received my first few weeks of being on there.  People I barely knew, hardly remembered, and had admittedly forgotten about suddenly wanted to be friends in this virtual rainbow filled world where everyone rides unicorns and the sun shines out their rear ends!

I will be the first to admit that I secretly enjoyed the cyber stalking of old classmates and acquaintances to see where they were at, what they were doing, and how their lives had turned out so far.  This short lived fascination however quickly fizzled when I realized most of us simply had similar versions of the same story.

This realization did not deter me from continuing to not only remain a member of this online organization, but I actively and willingly participated (and still do) in posting comments, pictures, even a few soapbox issues in my early days of joining.  It has served as a phenomenal platform for communication with several people I did or may have otherwise lost touch with who fall into that I really like and respect you, but we are friends of convenience, i.e. coworkers, fellow organization members, neighbors, distant relatives, old classmates, etc, and we would otherwise inevitably faded into the background of each other's past.

So why the hate you ask?  Well beyond the minor irritations of seeing how many times a day someone has plowed their nonexistent field, named that tune, or passed go without collecting their 200,000 coins, let's talk about politics, religion, and sexual preference.  Oh snap!  She just went there! 

Bottom line: I HATE READING THIS ON FACEBOOK!!!!!!  Ok, I'm done yelling.  It's just that I've gotten to the point where I block people's status updates because I'm too um.... sensitive to tell them that I don't want to read 100 posts a day about God's love for me (a little goes a long way!); I respect your stance on being pro-life, but then please at least consider the impact of your choices when having multiple children you cannot afford; stop trying to define love and live and let live; if you are not happy with the politics of this country then find ways to become more involved on a local, state or national level, or better yet: move!

Now on to safer ground...the "real life" status updates.  I don't understand how so many love birds post pics of their vacations, flower arrangements, and fun filled family weekends, then you run into them in person and find out they are splitsville?  And ladies, 1999 called and they want the MySpace pics back.  You know the ones I'm talking about, the one taken from a high angle in the bathroom mirror variety.  Photos should not be allowed in the same room where you're taking care of business if you catch my drift and if we're friends on Facebook chances are if you aren't 30 yet, you're damn close, so enough!  Oh, and you checked in at the grocery store, again to grab a cup of joe, then you went to a movie?  Watch out Frank the Tank, these people have a busier life than you do!  And finally, how many of us actually have 1,000 + friends?  I would love to get 1,000 + likes on this blog, but after this post I may be down to two (thanks J and mom!).  For real!

So until a better option comes along I will continue my rocky road with Facebook.  It's been a great tool for blogging, getting word out about my business, and keeping in touch with those who don't clutter my newsfeed with their reality show worthy rants and instead post cute photos of their kids, dogs, vacations, etc and in their updates they follow mom's advice: If you don't have anything nice (*or intelligent) to say...

Down By the River

Relaxed and rested after a week in the Sunshine state, I returned to a five day forecast of cloudy with a 200% chance of precipitation.  This would not be so irritating if a) construction would have commenced in a timely matter (meaning last week as was expressed verbally and in writing to our builder); b) the first work scheduled this week wasn't concrete which can't set in the rain; c) I had more experience project managing and had caught the wording of our demolition contract which neglected to include the typical 30 day turnover for payment which means we have to pony up the cash since we are two weeks shy of our first loan draw.

Flipping through my checkbook I was reminded of one of my favorite SNL sketches by the late, great Matt Foley/Chris Farley.  I began worrying that by the end of this renovation process I am going to end up "35 years old, eating a steady diet of government cheese, thrice divorced, and living in a van down by the river!"

http://youtu.be/XaoM0FyLmGY

Of course this thought was followed by a quick search on YouTube for the sketch I've seen numerous times, but suddenly felt a flicker of connection too.  Watching it again cracked me up, but also made me realize that for some unfounded reason, I carry a sense of entitlement.  I often believe I can do what Matt Foley says and "get the world by the tail, wrap it around, pull it down, and put it in my pocket."  I may want my house finished yesterday, "Well, la-dee-fricken-da!"

So lesson learned that the world doesn't revolve around the completion of my house or my schedule.  My builder is entitled to take a cruise with his family; while weather may be predicted it cannot be controlled; and if I am going to take on the management of this project I need to do a more thorough job on my homework and make sure the wording covers all the bases including a timeline and percentage of completion required for payment.

Thank you Matt Foley for bestowing your words of wisdom even from the great beyond and now I think my afternoon will be more productively spent rewording contracts and searching on Craigslist for a van (just in case!).