Some of you may remember a post from two months ago concerning a man who fell through the ceiling in my bedroom. There was a context to that incident that included insulation, a breech of contract, former owners, Ann freaking out, the usual.
Suffice it to say that a month and a half later, there is no longer a hole in my ceiling, but the big brown spot doesn't match the rest of my white textured ceiling. And now it's been splattered with splatter that the guy who fell through the ceiling ran out of before he finished the job today. He also managed to splatter it all over my painted-with-organic-paint-wall and my carpet.
I just stood in my room with my hands on my head staring at it tonight.
"Finishing" this job came the same day that another repair man came to my house to put glass in a window to fix the hole that mysteriously appeared, shattering glass onto my game room floor.
And the green grass grew all around all around and the green grass grew all around.
I love my house, but really! A broken window, a broken ceiling, you must think I live in a dump. But I don't, I live in this great little home that needs a little tlc when large men fall through the ceiling. It's a great home and you'd think it was perfect except that there is a mansion going up next to my house making my cute little house look like a cute little hut. I have two qualms with what I like to call "the mansion." Number one it is five feet from my property line. (The very minimum it can be - and I know. Some friends and I snuck out there one night to measure and sure enough it's five exactly. Argh.) This wouldn't be a big deal except that I can practically reach out and touch the house from inside mine! Qualm number two: it's a two story house. The only one in the neighborhood. Probably the only one on this side of town. Ridiculous. My neighbors and I just stand and stare. Plus it has a long front porch and a bay window in the front upstairs bedroom. And did I mention it's a mansion? My friends say my property value will go up but I don't care. When I'm jealous, I get cranky and inconsolable.
So that's a slight exaggeration, but my description of the house isn't. Even Roger said it was huge.
And so tonight I will turn off all my chic little lamps and lights, brush my teeth in my nice white, shiny sink, put on comfy pjs and humbly retire to my couch where I will again be sleeping since my room smells like splatter and I don't want to breathe splatter all night.
From the splattered and stinky but salvific sanctuary of 5406, I bid you good night.