I think Dick Cheney, John Wu, Alberto Gonzalez and all those other sick motherfuckers had it all wrong. Don't water-board people. If you really want to torture someone, do the following; force them to live under these conditions:
- TEN, I counted twice to make sure, TEN fucking fans and 3 damn dehumidifiers going 24 hours a day for 5 out 7 days this past week.
- A Cocker Spaniel that has developed a manic-neurosis of some sort from the constant exposure to the two things she hates most in life-----WET PAWS AND LOUD BLOWING/SUCKING MACHINES. If there was a canine wing of Napa State Hospital, I think she would meet the criteria for admission. She is at least good for a 48-hour hold; she is a danger to herself and others. Is there a doggie DSM-IV?
- A Pug who finds her schedule of burping, farting, licking and napping disrupted so she decides to ESCAPE every 40 minutes ALL DAY LONG.
- A small neighborhood consisting mostly of nasty, nosey, bitchy old ladies who love to nothing but tell you; your dog is out again, she has shit in their flower bed, she is going to get hit by a car, she is supposed to be on a leash, the workers let her out, you need to do something about it, that POD is taking up TWO visitor parking spaces, "Are those workmen bonded? Because you know one of them is, you know...colored?" (That one almost caused me to have an aneurysm), your garbage cans are outside of your fence, how long is this going to take?, why don't you put the dogs in a kennel?, yada yada yada, blah blah blah...
- A sweet, but lecherous neighbor who wants to touch your boobs all the time and is not shy about asking you if he can.
- An extremely fast packing team that boxes up your stuff tapes it and stacks it in the POD before you realize that you needed it. Stuff like: your keys, medicines, Visine-because you have no eyeball juice left and Carmex- because you have chapped lips because the dehumidifiers and the fans have sucked ALL OF THE MOISTURE OUT OF NAPA (except in your home), DOGTOWN-they packed it!, the clothes dryer with clothes in it, the vacuum, the garbage can, your toilet paper, your Tums, and your will to go on.
- Put two 40+-year-old men in a filthy man cave, they instantly turn into 12 year olds. You spend 4 hours listening to a loud conversation between Bevis, Butthead, Stan and Cartman.
After dealing with all of the above, I am ready to confess, TO ANYTHING. Seriously. If confessing means I get a hot meal, clean sheets, a bubble bath, some quiet and a few cocktails- WHERE DO YOU WANT ME TO SIGN?
All this bitching. I know, I know. I don't mean to sound so crabby. I am just tired and even though we got so much done today, there is so much left to do. The house needs to finish drying. The rest of the stuff needs to be moved out. Some cleaning needs to be done. Then the flooring needs to be put in. Then baseboards. Possibly new kitchen cupboards and perhaps some painting too. Then move all the stuff back in and unpack and put away all of the stuff.
I don't know what we would have done without such AWESOME landlords, the SPECTACULAR team from ServPro (Ray, Jason, Chris and Rosie- You Guys Rock!), Skater Dave (You are a brave man to tackle the man cave!) and Nephew Joseph (You are the hardest working teenager I have ever met!).
And thank you, dear readers, for letting me vent. Because frankly, I just don't have time for a therapy appointment right now and I don't have the cash for a spa day.