The Week of the Bleeding Checkbook

 I hate to make phone calls. Always have, always will. It takes me days to work up the courage, even then they get moved from one ‘To Do’ list to another until I get the job done. I usually save a bunch of calls to make back to back because my ‘courage days’ don’t come around all that often. I needed to schedule appointments for fall maintains jobs around the house and since the businesses all got called within an hour of one another the appointments all got on my day planner one day after another. Side note: My husband was surgically attached to his phone and hated to write letters. I love writing letters and treat my phone like its Typhoid Mary. It was a match made in heaven.

First came the carpet cleaners and $225 later I had three rooms cleaned, Scotch-Garded and deodorized. My carpets are a light grey, commercial grade that have held up well and that Scotch-gard treatment is well worth the extra charge because it keeps the dog’s vomit sitting right on the top and easy to clean with a little Resolve Pet Cleaner. Levi vomits more than all the other dogs I’ve ever had put together but he hates the foods the vet suggests for dogs with touchy stomachs. Mr. Carpet Cleaner, by the way, told me Nature’s Miracle Cleaner is better than Resolve.

Next came a new house cleaning service. After I lost my old service, I had decided not to replace them and do my own cleaning again, but this company fell in my lap when I mentioned the loss to the son-I-wish-I-had. “My sister has a service,” he told me. Color me embarrassed because I didn’t even remember he has a sister! Turns out she not only has a cleaning service but she covers the entire county. She sends out two person teams and they were in and out in an hour for only $50. But the cherry on the top was the fact that they get down on their hands and knees to scrub floors. My old service wouldn’t do that---I asked. They’d just spray some cleaner on the floor then use a microfiber mop to blend all the dirt together. My new, rock star cleaner changed the water pail five times in my kitchen. This on a floor that had so-called been cleaned a month ago by my old service. It looks so good now! It hadn’t been scrubbed on hands and knees since before my husband died when I could crawl up the side of his wheelchair (with him in it) to get off the floor. Having two fake knees and a bad elbow puts a crimp on any activity that requires me to be on the floor or ground…cleaning, gardening, laying out quilt blocks, reading the Sunday newspaper, filming commercials where I get to say, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!"

The following day was Sump Pump day. It costs $165 just to have the plumbing company come out to check it and for another $200 to replace it. It was out of warranty and even though it was working "okay," he said, I wasn’t about to take a chance on another basement flooding. Once was enough. Weighing the $365 up against the $3,000 cost of having another flooded basement pumped out the decision was easy.

The last maintenance service call was to get ready for our Michigan winter, the yearly furnace check that they suck you into getting with a $98 coupon. I’ve used the same company for years so I knew in recent years they'd often find something they can replace so they can tack on a few extra bucks. My furnace is eighteen years old so whatever petty part they say needs replacing I go for it rather than spend the winter worrying it will let me down when we’re having near zero temperatures outside. This year it was suggested that instead of waiting for a break down, I should be proactive and replace the blower motor and inducer motor at a cost of $1,275. Wow, I was not used to hearing numbers that high! I told him I'd take my chances but that next day I reversed that decision and called them back. A housing inspector---next year when I sell the place---will discover those motors are only working at 80% and I'm worried a buyer could demand I put in a new furnace for $6,000+ and what happens if the pandemic causes shortages should one of those motors belly out on me this winter? It also makes sense for me to continue doing what I'd normally do to maintain the house until the day I close on it, take no shortcuts because who knows what might happen down the road in these uncertain times we're living through.

Most of my life I was spoiled when it came to doing home maintenance. Between my dad and my husband they could do any project around a house. With nearly two decades since my husband's stroke and me being in charge of hiring everything done I find myself smiling every time I get to say to myself, “That’s the last time I’ll ever have to do that!” And I’ve been saying it a lot during my week of the bleeding checkbook. By this time next year I’ll just have to call maintenance to do everything from changing a light bulb to hanging a TV to fixing a washing machine. If only they would add dog vomit removal to their menu of services I’d be happy camper.  ©

Makeup and Maintenance

Life is going by so fast it’s a wonder I’m not getting nose bleeds from the speed. Is that even a thing? Christmas has come to the stores and a few bloggers and I haven’t even bought my Halloween candy yet. I never buy it early because I’d start eating it and have to buy it a second time. I hate that Halloween always starts me on a sugar binge that lasts until the January diets cycle around. I used to buy miniature bags of popcorn and pretzel bags but as my then-young neighborhood started popping out more and more children I got priced out of giving those out. Neighborhoods change. I used to get 140 kids, now it’s down to 70 to 80 kids. I still buy animal crackers for the tiniest trick-or-treaters because the dog and I love having them left over at the end of the night. 

Moving on. I went to a Mary Kay makeup party/luncheon. One of my Gathering Girls friends has a daughter who is a top sales representative, her full time job that earns her a free car to drive and she just got home from a Mary Kay Caribbean cruise and she took her mom with her, expense free for both of them. While I was getting my face made up I asked if the party was a makeup intervention for me because I’m the only one in the group who doesn’t wear anything but lip gloss and eyebrow cream. When I buy makeup it turns rancid before I can use it up because I don’t go anywhere often enough to bother wearing. I also don’t trust my old, cataract encrusted eyes to be seeing color accurately enough to plaster on all that stuff. I see older women who wear colors that are too bright and fake looking and when I mentioned my fear at the party, several of my friends assured me that they would tell me if I was doing that. Sure, famous last words. 

I have to admit that my before and after photos did show a flattering difference but all I bought was an eyebrow pencil and a tub of lipstick which cost me $30.74 and an extra trip to pick them up a few days later. I did love the feel of the Mary Kay sugar scrub for your lips but I figure I could smear a couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups on my lips and it would have the same effect for a fraction of the price. Still, the party was fun and I got an email from the daughter a few days later thanking me for “playing along” and being “a free spirit” which left me scratching my head about the latter. I guess makeup demonstrations with seniors bring out the silly in me. The same thing happened when I went to a fashion and makeup show with my future neighbors last summer. 

With all the lip service (no pun intended) given to striving to be our authentic selves it’s a curiosity that painting our faces up has endured since the days of the Egyptian queen, Cleopatra. Oh, yes, turning eyes “green” with copper ore and drawing black lines around eyes with Kohl is the foundation of all the Mary Kay and Avon parties. What we forget is that men, back in 4,000 BC were every bit as besotted with their superficial appearances as the women were but somehow they managed to leave the practice of wearing eye makeup back in the pages of history until this century when metro-sexual men started in again. Why? Why did men stop using makeup (except for powder) and why on earth would they start spending the money and the time again when they were free of all that fuss? By the way, archaeologists believe the practice of the Egyptians giving themselves the ancient version of our modern-day smoky eyes may have had a practical purpose of reducing the glare of the sun. Okay, I guess that makes sense, judging by all the war movies and football players I’ve seen. 

Moving right along, again. Yesterday was a house maintenance day and it’s a relief to finally get my gutters cleaned out. One of them had to be taken apart to get a mass of pine needles out. That particular downspout was causing a waterfall when it rained to pour over my front sidewalk which would have caused a dangerous, icy mess in the months to come. There’s always something. 

Yesterday an arborist also spent three hours trimming my shrubs. He’s eight-two! I had a hard time booking him because he bowls on Mondays, goes somewhere else fun on Wednesdays and cuts lawns on Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays when he trims shrubbery I was always booked up. I had to cancel a RSVP to attend a lecture to fit him in. The lecture was one I really didn’t want to miss. It was given by two people: one the daughter of the Japanese ambassador during WWII and the grandson of Eisenhower’s Chief of Intelligence. I saw them interviewed on TV afterward and know I missed a fascinating perspective on the war. But I enjoyed spending time out in the yard. Between the downspout guy (who was upbeat and fun to be around) and arborist both being here for hours, I was dead tired from raking and holding the ladder. But it was disappointing that neither one of them noticed my new and “improved” eyebrows. Should I ask for my Mary Kay money back? ©


NOTE: If anyone wants to see the 'after' picture of my makeover last week, click on the page at the top that's labeled 'What I Write About.'

Decks and Daylilies

A few years back I planted what at the time was supposed to be the tallest, yellow daylilies on the market. This is what a guy at Daylilies of North Carolina says about the variety: “Here we have a true giant in the daylily world. A flower that begs you to stand next to and have your picture taken with it. And you do not have to squat, or stand in a hole, or use a funny camera angle to show the height of this daylily. Modesty dictates that I register this beauty at 68" but I have measured scapes at 74". What's half a foot when we are talking about ‘reaching new heights?’ I would rather tell you that it has wonderful fragrance, and 7 ½" blooms, and fabulous mounds of foliage.... and it sets pods!” 

On my kitchen counter is a bouquet of 25-30 stems of my daylilies. Normally, I wouldn’t cut them and bring them in the house, but I have a guy here prepping my deck for staining it and putting new lattice around the bottom and the lilies will get trampled. I had no choice, but to bring them in if I wanted to stretch their beauty out a few more days. In the meantime they’re filling up the house with sickeningly sweet fragrance. If someone I know were here he'd say, “Something smells like a well perfumed whore on a Saturday night” and I suspect before all the blooms are gone the bouquet will end up in the garage if it keeps reminding me of ladies of the night.

I don’t know about this guy doing my deck work. He didn’t come about because I thoroughly vetted him or he came highly recommended or has done deck work for me in the past. I happened to ask my lawn care guy if he knew anyone who stains decks and replaces lattice skirting and he said, “I do. I do it all.” So I told him to write up an estimate and the next thing I know I came home to find a power washer sitting in my back yard. Since he was the first person I asked about the deck, I knew it was his. I called him up and left a message that he needed to get something down in a contract because we hadn’t agreed on a price or the product or method of applying it. Yadda, yadda, yadda. 

He called me back and long story short, he’d already bought the stain and the plastic lattice and he claimed I told him I wanted the lattice painted gray to match the decking and he was just getting ready to start doing it in his garage. I was shocked. “Painting it gray wouldn’t have occurred to me in a 100 years!” I said. “It’s always been white. It comes white. White lattice matches the trim on the house.” And I was racking my brain to try to remember what I could have possibility said to make him think he had the job in the bag before he’d even given me an estimate of the cost involved. The word 'dementia' occurred to me during this exchange and I wasn't sure if that label should be smacked on his forehead or mine. Either way I clearly lost control of the deck job I'd planned on getting a couple of estimates on. And that makes me feel old and unsure of what's really going on.

I bluntly told him, “I did not agree to this job and won’t until you put it in writing so we both know we’re on the same page.” The contract he gave me had exactly twenty words in it. I’d proof read enough of my husband’s contracts and I’ve seen enough Judge Judy shows to know what should be in a contract and this guy didn't even include the name of the person---his live-in girlfriend---who he always has me write the checks to when lawn care payments are due. Without a canceled check made out to him, I’d have no way to prove I paid for the extensive deck work should things go bad and we ended up in court. I've never sued anyone in my life but there's a first time for everything.

One of his helpers told me he does the check thing because he owes his x-wife a bunch of back child support and she comes after any money that goes in his bank account. He’s a likeable guy but as the summer has gone by he’s gotten increasing too eager to spend my money. He wanted to power wash my house one time. “No, thanks.” "Are you, sure? It needs it." No it doesn't. “Your shrubs need trimming. I’ve got my trimmer in the truck.” “Wrong season to do it in.” But I wanted to say, “I’m the home owner, I DECIDE when I schedule what.” Ohmygod, I miss my nephew! He took such good care of my yard and even though he charged more than Avoiding-Child-Support Guy, my nephew was worth every penny…and he paid taxes on his income like all good little foot soldiers in this world do and he knew how to write a contract. But I can’t fire this guy because there's a shortage of lawn care services in town and I was lucky to get him last spring after calling nearly a dozen who weren't taking on anymore customers.

I’m not looking forward to next week when the deck gets its makeover. He’s bringing his live-in girlfriend with him to help stain the 191 spindles and her son to do the lattice work. I’ve got a huge deck that wraps two sides of the house and deck staining alone---without the lattice work---has always been a huge, three day production and I’m crossing my fingers Avoiding-Child-Support-Guy knows what he’s doing. I will be watching like a hawk. I've told him before signing the stupid contract that "neatness counts" and he just laughed which made me feel like a controlling old lady. I did get him to cross off his name and write his girlfriend's name where it said, "payable to...." She's got to be ten ways to dimwitted to allow herself to be used that way.

On the good side, this week I did learn something about daylilies, having them in the house. The flowers really do only last a day---sun up to sun down even under artificial lights---and when they die they are so wet they 'cry tears' like babies needing their mamas. They don't drink a lot of water like gladiolas and other large flowers do. Where does all the water they drip come from?  ©