Thursday, March 03, 2005

I should be working right now, but I switched shifts.

Yesterday was one I just wanted to hit the reset button on. It began somewhat later than normal, a respectable 8am. However, after a delicious breakfast sandwich from dunkin donuts, I commenced a day long campaign of housework. This evil was brought on by the plaster man coming to give me an estimate on what it was going to cost to fix the water damage to my ceilings. So by 2:30, all necessary cleaning was done and a very tired and impatient jackass sat down to wait for Plasterman. On Wednesday I called Plasterman, and he told me he would come by after 3pm. He had both my home and cell #’s and didn’t bother to call. I FUCKING HATE THAT SHIT. If you can’t make an appointment, just call. I would have been perfectly fine knowing he was not coming. Instead, I sat around and grew more and more pissed off cause no one was giving me the 411.

While waiting, I remembered the guy who works in the house while I am at work, told me there was a strong smell of gas in the basement, and that he shut off the gas to the stove. So, I called the gas company and told them what was up. They told me to leave the house, leave it unlocked and take a cell phone with me. I figured since I forgot to call yesterday, I wasn’t in any eminent danger. Within 15 minutes, an old Irish guy was here to close the case. Not only was there no leak, but also McGasman put in a new meter in 20 minutes. Screw you, Plasterman. McGasman mentioned in passing had I been wearing a Yankees hat, he would have let the house burn down to the ground and not lost a wink of sleep. We swapped tales of last year’s awesome Red Sox World Championship season and he was on his way.

By 6:00 I was thoroughly pissed off and late for my best friend’s birthday party. I stopped at the LQ on the way over and picked up a nice bottle of Glenfiddich. My boy likes him some scotch but as he is the sole provider for wifey and two young’uns, he is not able to treat himself often. Most of the time a large, plastic bottle of Seagram’s 7 is all he drinks…..* BLECH * As if my day was not long and hard enough, best friend’s sister was at the party. We just don’t mix and she is about as subtle as sandpaper on the inside of your ass. Of course best friend told her I was having work done and that Plasterman didn’t show up. Of course she is dating a plaster guy, the best one in the state, who can do the job faster, and more importantly cheaper. Of course the guy I chose, sucks and she hears complaints all the time from everyone on his work. Of course he is a hard worker and as honest as the trees are tall. Of course he’s an alcoholic, ex-con with three teeth in his head, who was swilling beers in best friend’s driveway, in his van, like they were never going to make it again, “just in case there was nothing cold to drink at the party.”

Of course…

I just wanted to relax. To be honest I was not in the mood to be around other people and it showed. Wifey asked me if there was anything she could get me cause I, “looked like I was very angry.” I thanked her, and filled her in on the situation. She was very sympathetic. Best friend and I hung out alone for a bit and put #2 to bed. If nothing else, being with best friend and wifey’s kids can always make me feel better. We rejoined the party and gratefully sis had to leave cause she was going to be sick. She managed to yak in the driveway cause Con-Air was too busy drinking to take care of her. Once they left, the stress level dropped considerably.

Best friend tried out his new scotch with his father in law and they were both very appreciative. There were laughs and ha-ha’s and in the end I was the last one there. I think I was too tired to go home but I made it without crashing into anything so thank heaven’s for little miracles. Screw you, Plasterman.

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