*PSA: Although home-wrecking alcoholism isn't exactly funny, calling those 1.5-liter bottles of liquor the "homewrecker" size sure is. As in: "Pick up bananas, milk, and a homewrecker of Crown." One of the better slang terms I know of, it's just satisfyingly descriptive and clean. A lovely compound word, both grave and flippant. There are several standard sizes and varying prices for portions of alcohol, but when you pick up the homewrecker you're either partying or you mean business with your self-destruction, so you're buying it in bulk. As always, we I must laugh at our human condition if I'm to keep on keepin' on.
But this isn't about alcohol. It's about the weird sensation of being away at work while knowing that two guys are demolishing part of my house.
"A house is essentially a huge box filled with complicated things that want to break -- a box that sits outside day and night, in the rain and snow, surrounded by creatures that would like to eat it." -- David Owen, as quoted in "House Lust: America's Obsession with Our Homes," by Daniel McGinn
Yes, with the economy being so robust and filled with bright prospects, we decided now would be a good time to sink a whole bunch of money into our vulnerable box. Boy, oil is high, stocks are low -- sure, why not take on some debt now?
Truthfully, while education jobs are hardly lucrative, the one nice thing, financial-planningly speaking, is that they're somewhat recession-proof. Raises are paltry no matter the economy, but labor reductions are rare. To get axed you have to sleep not just with several people, but several people at the wrong time(s) -- current dean/VP: bad; future dean/VP: good -- and even then it might take video evidence to take you down.
So in that sense, we can wait to dance with debt until the rates are low -- regardless of the macro factors that are making those rates so low and getting our neighbors to cut back on their Playboy subscription.
Debt-ready, we're adding on a deck and a wee modest sun room, the bids for which we solicited over much debate and reflection this winter.
It replaces a useless 6' x 4' back "porch" whose greatest potential in life was as a one-person staging area once you climbed the steps to house level. With one person and a dog, it's crowded. With one person and two dogs, it's canine chaos: tails stepped on, paws crossed, work trousers slimed by drive-by saliv(a)ing -- to say nothing of the see-through railings that put every bit of suburban wildlife in the telescopic sight of our canine pretend predators.
So today the contractors arrived -- as contractors and gas men always do -- by surprise, first thing in the morning. We knew they would start "soon" but didn't realize it would be "you won't know the day or the hour" soon.
They rang the bell while I was in the shower, igniting a harmony of dog barks among the deep-voiced old lady and high-pitch puppy still finding her voice. The builders received no answer -- remember, I'm in the shower, and Mrs. Fall of Because, being on Spring Break, has a vacation clause that absolves her from greeting visitors or doing work until she naturally wakes from her beauty rest.
So they start backing their truck down the mud-glazed driveway. Which elevates the dog harmony from "Someone's at the door" Alert Bark to full-on, impassioned "We're under attack!" Panic Howl. Which tells me that, indeed, it is more than someone misdelivering a Playboy -- "good dog!" -- as someone is now carving up my rain-drenched yard with their truck.
The builders were sheepish about arriving by surprise, but clearly that was the middle-man's job, and the middle-man ain't here, so what of it? We got work to do.
Fair point. And it's not like once someone you're trusting with your house is there, ready to start much-anticipated work, you're going to do anything other than welcome them and let them do their thing.
As work started, the dogs naturally kept barking despite our assurances that everything is on the up-and-up. They alternated between barking at the shadows on the porch and looking at us -- how could we just sit there while this is happening?! So Mrs. Fall of Because took the dogs and headed south. And here I am working -- except for this very moment, I assure you -- thinking about nice, sunny spring mornings in the new room. But in the background I'm thinking, "Wait a minute, somebody is over there demolishing part of my house!"
And that's when I gained a little empathy and saw where the dogs are coming from.
As you may have noticed, the site has changed. Sampa, the free-site host, did a version 2 of some sort.
Despite an FAQ that made it sound like allowing one's site to go through v.2 surgery would be okay, there were several flexibilities that surprisingly disappeared with the click of a button. (e.g. I cannot believe sidebars like this one are even narrower than before.)
And I'm told -- miraculously! -- that the conversion cannot be undone. Truth be told, I'm actually quite pissed. But free is free. Sampa has otherwise been good to me.
So I need to sort through site "features" to see how I can make do. Except that I don't have the time at the moment, in the middle of graduate classes and Lighthousehockey.com. (btw, I've removed that Lighthouse RSS feed so that you're not clogged with random Islanders hockey gibberish).
But I promise to touch up the accessories when I get a chance, and return to irregularly scheduled blogging.
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," by Daniel McGinn
February, 2008