05 March 2008

the handbasket is full

I must have seriously pissed off the universe at some point. I, along with the dozen or so other female bloggers out there who are not pregnant, have a raging case of PMS. [Is this like college when my dorm floor all got in sync, to the point where the guys on the two floors below us would not venture upstairs a few days a month?] It makes me want to alternately spit nails and weep.

It all started Monday, when our adorable foster dog decided to crap all over Oliver's bedroom. He never goes upstairs except at bedtime, so I never close the gate. His crapping problem is recurrent and really, really messy. I put him back on the pills that cause him to be able to control his crapping urge a bit better, though he still produces more crap than I ever thought possible. I swear it's more than the food that goes in, which is probably why he is so thin. At his age, there is probably something going on internally. I see more vet visits in my future, and a visit from the rug cleaning company.

On Tuesday, a new chapter was added to the saga of the steamer. The new unit was delivered, a day earlier than the company told me it would arrive. The guy who brought it in seemed to have no idea that he would be installing anything, especially since he's not an installer. After studying the manual at length, he finally the old unit out and the new one in place and wired in. It worked once, but the second time I turned it on it made the same clicking noise the old one had made when it shorted out. A careful look at the label revealed that the old one was a 220-240v appliance, while the newer unit was 120v, an improvement for the new model year. After yet another lengthy phone call with the manufacturer (rhymes with "gag-me-now"), we are now getting estimates on having the circuit re-wired. I have to fax that to them, at which point they will decide whether they feel like paying for it or not. And maybe then they will send yet another unit to be installed by yet another incompetent hack. I haven't had a working unit since early December. I predict I will be able to use it again sometime in July. 

And now today, it all really went to hell. The buyers for our house backed out, screwing us in a wide variety of ways. When they presented their list of things they wanted fixed, we sent them a response, agreeing to most of them, even the truly ridiculous ones. We expected they would respond with a request for more than we were offering to do, we would say, "done," and we would all move forward towards a March 17 closing. Instead, their agent called ours and to report her buyers are balking at our saying we would not brace the roof. Our agent told her this was not a deal breaker for us and we would do it. It was a $600 fix. Big deal. Their agent responded with their termination of the agreement. They get their hand money back. We don't get squat. And to add insult to injury, the auction we had scheduled for Saturday has to be cancelled. The second open house was not held, due to our agreement with these buyers. We have to decide whether to schedule a new auction in three weeks or kiss the money we gave to the auction company for advertising goodbye. 

And the cherry on top of this shit sundae was just a little while ago, when Eleanor decided to start her bedtime nursing session with a very, very hard chomp with all eight of her teeth. Good times!

3 comments:

Virginia said...

Bad things come in clumps, and then we REALLY appreciate "normal " days, eh?

Jami said...

The title of this entry reminds me of a bumper sticker I once saw. It said, "Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket?"

Just thought I'd share.

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

There are a dozen bloggers that are NOT pregnant? Really? Because I only count four.

Ugh.