Wheel Chair

So yesterday was a busy day. As usual, I don't have enough people scheduled to accomplish the tasks my boss is always up my ass about. "Have you done PFIs yet, Erin? Have you merchandised such and such, Erin? Are all of the customers taken care of, Erin? Have you counseled so and so about being late to work today, Erin?" (PFI stands for "pulled for inventory": merchandise that customers took loans out on but didn't come back for after 90 days.)

So one of my guys was at lunch, and the other one is a wanderer; I was all by myself. Over the intercom, I hear, "I need a layaway pick-up at register four." That would be my job.

On my way up to what we call "The Mansion," which is a total exaggeration of our storage facility, I looked at the layaway slip and realized it was an electric wheelchair. Great.

So it took me about ten minutes to find the damn thing, considering we have three electric wheelchairs and the location on the slip was wrong. Way wrong.

So I finally find the damn thing, sit down in it, and wheel myself back out to the main part of the store. Over the intercom I hear, "A customer needs assistance in electronics with radar detectors." I made a note that once I was done wheeling this thing around that I would get back up to my department and help that customer. But I was running into stuff with such frequency that I was getting irritated. But I finally got down the ramp and passed the gun department, as I nearly crashed into the jewelry counter. This new guy, who is the biggest redneck ever, says, "Hey, Erin. Someone needs help with radar detectors." At this point, I was so terribly annoyed that I just growled, "WELL, they will just have to WAIT." His face turned red (apparently, the customers-who were black- were standing right next to him, which I didn't realize) as I had my next accident at register four. I asked the guy picking it up if he would like help out, and of course he did. I had to drive that thing out in the parking lot to his pickup, which I swear had a ten foot lift. I told him that I would have to go get help picking it up (after I about dislocated both of my shoulders trying to get it up there myself).

So when I came back in, The Redneck introduced me to his father, who had just driven in from Kentucky to visit. He said to me, "I thought the only reason you could get away with talkin' like that is because you's crippled! And now look atcha - you're walkin'!" Hilarious.

And then later, I heard The Redneck telling the story to someone else. He said, "Yeah, them colored people weren't too happy when she screamed, 'WELL, they will just have to WAIT."

Ahh. The people I work with. Just another day in the life of a Pawn Broker.

Disgust

Just so we're clear, I would like to meet people that do this* in a dark alley. I would do horrible, indescribable things to make them regret every animal they ever hurt.

*Seriously (seriously) do not click on this link if you think you will regret it. You will. On the other hand, it may make those of you afraid to call animal control a little more courageous the next time you see someone neglecting or abusing an animal. You and I are just as responsible as the sick fucks that fight dogs if we turn our heads.

Picture via Dick.

Air Conditioner

I'm still working on the five questions from Dick, just in case you're wondering. My house has been entirely too hot to focus on anything like that.

Last week, when we had yet another Texas storm, the outside unit of my air conditioner stopped working. Of course, I didn't notice it until the next morning when I woke up in a pool of my own sweat. I don't know if the storm had anything to do with it, but it seems too coincidental to me not to mention it.

Anyway, I made an online claim with my home warranty company and miserably (but patiently) waited 48 hours for them to call. On Friday, I couldn't wait any longer and called. The claim had never been received. So of course, I had to wait all weekend as I roasted in my own house, and called the company back today because I couldn't imagine lasting one more night in 90-degree heat. Luckily, the contractors were able to make it in less than two hours from when I called.

Before they got there, I was sure to clean as much as I could. Despite the fact that my house has been miserably hot, I have been cleaning a little every day to keep it under control. However, today I made sure everything was spotless. Floors, kitchen, dusting, bathroom, bedroom - done. And trust me - no dog hair on the floor is a serious measure of successful cleaning.

So when the doorbell rang, Lewis and Winston (my two barkers) went crazy. All the girls just sat there and wagged their tails, so I put the boys away and answered the door. When I greeted the two men, they both backed up when they saw Daisy. I assured them she was friendly as she calmly stood there looking up at them. But I could already sense the judgement. Who is this crazy lady with GodKnowsHowMany dogs?

I led them outside and showed them the unit. One of the men, covered head to toe in tattoos, told me with as many dogs as you have, it probably just needs a cleaning. He replaced some part and made a comment about how much dog hair was in there. I poked my head inside and quite honestly, I've seen more dog hair in my computer tower. But I didn't justify anything, I just waited for them to be done. The tattoo man then went into my bedroom where the inside unit is. He explained with as many dogs as you have, you should be changing the air filter once a week. And with as many dogs as you have, you should let me charge you $250 to acid wash this unit, which your warranty company won't cover (of course).

Argh. I'm hard enough on myself when it comes to my house. I take a lot of pride in my home, and quite honestly, if I didn't tell you I had dogs, I'm fairly confident you wouldn't be able to tell when walking through my front door. But I always dread when repair people come over. I never want to be that person that causes them to go back to the office and say, "Hey boss, you'll never believe this story about the crazy lady with five dogs! Her AC was so nasty..."

Oh well. I'm going to go watch the temperature on my thermostat drop.

Argh

I'm determined not to turn this into a Help Me Fix Up My House blog, but I'm irritated about the progress on my new gutters:



As much as I love my husband, I don't know why I still consider his home improvement suggestions; I wanted plastic gutters, he insisted on aluminum. I had a feeling these things would be a pain in the ass. So here I sit, wondering if Lowe's would take back all of the pieces of gutter that I would like to exchange. Let's not mention the fact that Scout not only picked out the gutters, but he left me to deal with the problem on my own (he's in Kentucky for school). And I can't wait six weeks to deal with it. I hate looking at it. It.has.to.be.done.now.

Here's the problem: the aluminum pieces won't fit perfectly inside of each other. I don't know if there's some silly trick, or if I'm simply retarded. I tried gently tapping them together with a hammer, but the damn things bent in the opposite direction I was hoping for. I put them up anyway, in the hope that the gaps would be less obvious eight feet in the air. Nope.

Later, possibly after I say Screw the Gutters and install a pool in my front yard to catch all the rain water, I will be answering five questions that Dick has for me.

Challenge

Alright. This is a challenge for anyone that can help. My bet is that it will be Dick, considering he's a construction genius. But hey, I think some of my other readers might be too.

So here's a picture of the section of our bedroom I've been avoiding like the plague:



The wall angles aren't the easy 90 degree angles that Scout and I have conquered like professional contractors. Instead, it's about 120-ish(?) degrees. We've been cutting different angles, trying everything to make the corners match. It hasn't happened yet. And I don't want to hear anything about miter saws. I have a circular saw that works just fine, thank you. So if you have any ideas, or even better, you KNOW the solution to this problem, please let me know. I will be forever indebted to you.

Freaked Out

Man. Scout and I just had a freaky experience.

We were watching some news program about the prince of India being gay, when out of the blue, Lewis (the dog we got together almost five years ago) struggled to his feet and started backing up. He looked confused and scared. He was having a difficult time walking, and started to stumble and bang into the furniture. I immediately knew something was wrong, while Scout kept telling me that his foot was asleep (which actually happens to Lewis a lot - although I've never seen that in a dog before).

He scrambled into the back room, while Foxy tried snapping him into shape like she does. He was drooling and staring into space. Then, when Scout and I followed Lewis to the back of the house, Lewis laid down and started to pee. A lot. Now, if someone told me any of my other dogs had an accident in the house, I might believe them. But Lewis, he has a bladder made of steel. He can go hours and hours without going outside, and would never, EVER, pee in the house if he could control it. This is about the time that I lost it and started sobbing while wrapping my arms around him. Scout ran and got a towel and put the other dogs away.

I kept asking, "Babe, what is wrong with him?", demanding an answer as if he knew any better than I did. And I then told him to call my mom. Moms know everything.

I then noticed that Lewis' toes were all stretched apart, and his whole body seemed tense. It crossed my mind that it might be a seizure, but I was too panicked to actually think straight.

So here Scout is trying to explain to Mom what is going on, listening to me sob, and trying to figure out what the hell is happening. At some point, Scout entered soldier mode and said, "Calm the fuck down! Chill the fuck out!", which to some people may sound harsh. But knowing him as I do, I knew it was his way of needing me to check back in to reality and help him figure things out.

Just about that time, Mom said it sounded like a seizure. Knowing what I do about them, I just rocked Lewis gently and calmly told him everything was ok. A few seconds later, he still looked confused, but he wasn't tense anymore. He let me lay on the floor with him for a while, and then jumped up like a new man. He happily let us bathe him, and now he seems fine. Our boy is ok.

Home Improvement Holiday

Scout is leaving for a couple of months, so we took a few days off together. We were supposed to go camping in celebration of the 4th, but we weren't in time making the reservations (and then were somewhat relieved we didn't go, considering it would have been packed). So we allotted the $200 we would have spent camping for a four-day Home Improvement Holiday.

I was actually really ticked off when we went to Lowes to buy the same kind of wood we had done in the bedroom. Yeah. It's been discontinued. I won't mention the fact that I have a box and a half of the old stuff left, hoping that I may have enough to use it on the small downstairs hallway closet.

So we went to Home Depot, hoping that they may have the Sable Pecan color I was looking for (doesn't "Sable Pecan" sound scrumptious? I can't believe they discontinued the prettiest color ever! Believing wholeheartedly in my flawless taste, I have a hard time believing people weren't buying it). Nope. But they had this awesome wood named Coffee...Which was BEEEautiful. And it was only $25 a box (compared to the $43 a box I had spent on the other stuff). Guess why? Because it was being discontinued. Super. Knowing that our budgeted $200 wouldn't buy all the wood we needed, we decided to suck it up and look for a new color. But Home Depot ran out of the "cheap" padding I had used before for $25/100 sq. ft. They wanted $34 for a 50 sq. ft. roll. So back to Lowes it was.

So we finally settled on Antique Oak, which is only slightly lighter from the original Sable Pecan. So this is what $200 got us - about 1/4 of what we will need for the entire back room (notice the busted out window covered with cardboard that we haven't fixed yet. I've been too afraid that once we fix it, the same delinquents will come bust it out again):



We also painted more walls in the main living area - you might recognize the green from our bedroom. I love the layered look of somewhat modern Christmas colors. Personally, I think it should be Christmas time all year round. Now, in my house, it will be:



We've done some other small projects too, although nothing worthy of being photographed. It has been a fairly successful Home Improvement Holiday.