What Do May Flowers Bring?

June 6, 2009 at 3:16 AM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
  April showers bring May Flowers.  What do May flowers bring?  Pilgrims!  Hahahahaha.  Ha.  Actually what Mayflowers bring is more rain, torrential downpours and devastating thunderstorms.  Also, they bring a notice from the city that I missed the inspection date for my sister’s house, and if I don’t get it taken care of by June 6th, a vaguely-worded threat was expressed.
  There were only three things on the list that needed to be fixed, but two of them were outdoors.  Getting a day that it wasn’t raining and that I was off was beginning to look impossible.  Last weekend, however, the weather broke.  I had expected it to break on Saturday, so I was all pumped up with nowhere to go.
  So I went to the hardware store.  I think I told this story already…Anyway, Sunday it was not raining.  The sky was clear and blue, and it was warm, but not hot.  I grabbed my safari hat to protect my delicate bald head and went over to my sister’s.  Of course, in as much as I’m always going to be taking care of it, it might as well be mine.
  We had bought new paint for the shed a while back, and over a week ago I had primed the two pieces of trim I put up.  Now, I grabbed the paint and the roller, and quickly rolled paint badly onto the side facing the house, and the front.  Then I took a brush and painted the trim on the three corners that showed.
  Lastly, I took the primer and painted the small section of plywood that I had put up under the eave.  What had been there before was particle-board, which is as resistant to weather as a sorority chick is to a gang bang.  That’s not generalizing, that’s wishing.
  There!  Done.  Monday I called the city to arrange for the re-inspection, and as I hoped, the lady indicated that it was just a re-inspection so they would a) only check the stuff that didn’t pass, and 2) no new fee for the inspection, which I had feared because we were out-of-date on the old one, and 3) it would be over quickly.  Coolio.
  I didn’t call my sister about it, and I waited until Thursday to Email her about it because if I gave her any advanced notice, she would have felt the need to take off of work for it, even though she wouldn’t be going in until later in the afternoon and it would all be over while she slept anyway.
  I arranged to come in late to work Friday because the inspection was at 830 am.  I went over early, taking a shovel so I could fix the mulch bed where they had dug up to find the outside clean-out to the sewer.  I used my key and went in the house–
  Crap, she has a puppy.  Why in the world, when you can’t even afford to keep yourself and your cat fed, would you get a dog?  Why on Christ’s Green Earth would you get a puppy that you are too lazy to housebreak and too incompetent to train and too vapid to know that it’s going to destroy all of your furniture?
  I walk around the house and check things out, and the puppy is right under my feet until I step on a paw.  Dumbass.  I go down the hall, and sister is sleeping.  She opens eyes to slits.  I tell her what is up.  She gets up in a few minutes, much quicker than I would have expected.  She’s talking to her animals and mumbling to me something about she wishes I would have called her last night about it.  Why, exactly?  So you could clean up the house?  We know that’s not going to happen.  The only reason I woke her up was because there was dog shit on the kitchen floor and the guy was going to come in and I wasn’t going to clean it up because it wasn’t my dog.  I already disliked the dog; don’t make me hate it.
  We chat for a bit, and I get my phone so she can call the electric company, and we switch houses on that utility.  Gas is kind of done deal at our house, a little more Denise Richards (it’s complicated) at hers.  Need to switch the water and sewer, and that’s it.
  She talks to the electric company (brought to you by the letter C) first, and then I talk to them, and switch ours over as well.  While I’m on the phone with them, the City Inspector-Guy shows up.  I quickly finish on the phone.  The guy checks the outlet in the bathroom, and then we go outside.  The eave is fine, but he knew it was primer.  Just slap some paint on that, and you’re good.  Oh.
  The shed was good–and then he walked around the back side of it.  Where I didn’t paint.  I said, "Yeah, I was going to make her paint that–"
  The trim was good, what I had replaced.  But I replaced a few vertical pieces.  On the far side away from the house, the piece that edged the eave–is that a soffit?–looked pretty bad.  I couldn’t see what he meant, I pointed to another piece.  He said, no, here.  Oh.  Well, the sun was in my eyes.
  "You probably out to replace that too."  I agreed.  But the long and short of it was, he passed the house.  He said he would mark it off as done, but I needed to get those couple of things fixed.
  No problem.  Like I said, I’m going to be taking care of this house for her anyway.
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