This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!
Guys, can I tell you about my morning? Of course I can; it’s my blog. As you may or may not know after two years of talking about it Kevin and I are having our back porch redone.
Originally, part of it was screened in and part of it wasn’t. As a result we never used the part that wasn’t because, you know … BUGS! So we decided that the best thing to do was to turn the entire thing into a screened porch and change the steps so that we had better flow.
It took about two years because we couldn’t find a stone we wanted on the patio and finally this year we decided on Travertine. We are using a French Pattern. Did you hear that? A French Pattern because that’s crucial to the story.
So I just got back from California on Monday and on Tuesday the guys came over to check out the job. My contractor, Todd, told me that he wouldn’t be there Wednesday and I didn’t think anything about it.
So on Wednesday morning early the guys came over and started laying the patio. I went out a few times and basically just looked at how level it was and how pretty the stone was and obviously I was an idiot.
Why was I an idiot? This morning Todd came over (he’s the contractor) around 7:15 and he was looking at the porch. I went out there to look with him.
Me: why are there two little squares next to each other
Todd: that’s how it’s done
Me: I don’t think so
Todd: yeah, the last time he did this pattern there were a lot of squares left over so you have to do this so you don’t have long straight seams
Me: are you sure? I’m pretty sure that’s not right.
So Todd left and I went to Google and sure enough, they had laid the entire pattern wrong. They had laid about 225 square feet so there was quite a bit wrong. I called Todd and he told me to send him a diagram, which I did.
Then I told him to take it all out and have them start over again. I was so aggravated with myself because I should have caught it yesterday and I was out there but I felt a bit awkward bugging the guys a lot.
Then, after that I was running late to go to spinning and I get out of my car at the gym and realize that HALF of my key is missing. You see, my key has a detachable key so that you can lock the glove compartment and then give the valet guy the clicker so that he can drive the car but not unlock your valuables. It sounds good in theory unless you have the key but NOT THE CLICKER.
I looked all around and called the house to see if it was there (it wasn’t … Carol checked) and then said, “fuck it” and worked out.
After the class I searched the car high and low and no clicker. I got down on my hands and knees (yes, in the parking lot) and sure enough, there it was under the car.
I tried to back up but the fucking car wouldn’t start without the clicker in it.
I tried to reach it
I couldn’t reach it.
I tried on my stomach this time.
Too far away
I got out my umbrella from the back of the car
Thank god I had one
On my stomach I knocked the clicker to the side.
I finally got it.
My car started
I drove home
I’m sooooo stressed out now.
It’s gonna be a long day.