Category Archives: Things I’m Not Good At

Searching For An Untroubled Plumber

The Sink That Started The Frantic Search

Here’s why I need a plumber.

Bill’s car died and has to be hauled off to a Car Cemetery.

Bill tripped over his feet and fell flat with a thud on the patio. I thought the thud was his head, but it turns out it’s his elbow which is black and blue. He smarts in many places but the good thing is his back was hurting for 3 months and now that pain is gone. We think the fall gave him an adjustment.

The drain in Bill’s kitchen sink is plugged up clear to the back wall and we need a plumber.

So. Now I am Bill’s chauffeur and he has to wash his many dishes in my sink, in my house. However, the body wreckage he’s suffered doesn’t affect me thank goodness, as I have my own.

Our first order is to find a plumber. The car burial can come later.

The plumber I always use is not returning my calls. I believe he has run off. My guts say his wife left him. I am sorry about that, but I can’t fix him and obviously, he’s not emotionally able to drain Bill’s sink and clear the pipes. He may be drunk some where, I don’t know.

Bill gets out the town’s yellow pages and begins the hunt for a good plumber.

As I am his landlordess, I give him instructions.

“Get the Senior Rate. Get a plumber who doesn’t charge to come out and look. Ask me before you choose one as I have lived in this town a long time and know a lot of people.”

Bill doesn’t want my instruction. He curls his lips and gets to work. From the other side of the door I hear him drop the yellow pages and turn to his computer. He’s making calls in his Studio. These darn walls are way too thin.

My brother Jim comes over to nap on my living room couch. (Oh come on now, I haven’t time to explain that one. I’m trying to tell you about looking for a plumber.)

Bill raps on the door between his studio and my house. He comes into my Great Room and says, “Hi Jim. OK. This guy I called will do the drain for $80 and he’s asking questions about the leak in your tub faucet and what else you want done.”

“Who is he?” I ask.

“What does it matter who he is?!”

“I may know him,” I say.

Bill turns and goes into his place and I follow.

“It’s Dan Donovan Plumbing, if you must know,” he says.

“Not him!” I yell.

“Why?”

“I can’t remember why. I just know I have a down feeling about it, some memory in the past.”

Bill snorts.

Then, I notice he’s on the phone.

“Ah..I’ll call you back,” he says and hangs up.

Darn. Why didn’t he tell me he was talking to the man?

“You can always do this yourself you know!” Bill snarls.

He gets all irritated and comes back into my house with the phone book.

Jim shouts from the couch, “Who? Dan Donovan!? He ripped me off! He charged me an extra hundred dollars and then left shit everywhere in my place! ”

“Oh,” Bill says as he turns around and goes back into his studio. Continue reading

Venus Walks Out Of A Funeral

The Church Where It Happened

The funeral service  is more than half an hour late. It still hasn’t started. I have been sitting in this pew for an hour because I got here early.

Unfortunately, I have eaten something that doesn’t like me and my guts hurt so much I can barely sit still from the pain.

The man next to me is from my old Multilevel/Networking life. I have known him for more than 25 years. He sniffs up the drip from his nose, leans toward me and says, “I am now 83 years old.”

I tell him that is amazing and that I will never catch up to him.

He takes a moment, looks me over, then says, “Ummmm. Give it a few more days.”

Eeeh gads.

No one should be told this at a funeral! Continue reading

The Vixen At The Senior Center

The Senior Center. Can You Spot The Vixen Who Is ‘A Bitch’?

It’s 2:30 PM and I am taking a nap. I am sleeping so hard and deep that I am slobbering on my bed pillow.

Here is why I have slung myself across the bed and slammed into sleep in mid-afternoon when I should be working.

It’s because today I went to lunch at the local Senior Center.

Why? Because the lady who took care of my mother when she was ill, is between jobs.

“I’m scared,” she says. “I need a good Care-Giving job or I won’t be able to keep living in your mother’s house and I am even having trouble buying food.”

One of the problems with Care-Giving is that the old people you care for, often die. Then, you ‘re out of a job.

But, guess what.

I have a ‘Brilliant’ Idea.

“Let’s go to the Senior Center for lunch,” I say. “Mom went there and she had friends and I know some of the people. We can talk to folks and tell them how wonderful you are and that you’re looking for work. They may know someone who needs your help.”

Sonja thinks this is a terrific idea.

However, she can only go this Friday and that is the day they are having beef tostadas, rice, beans and a kiwi. Ugh. Oh well. I was hoping for a fried chicken day with mashed potatoes and fancy iced cake.

“OK,” I say. “They have generally great food and it’s only $4.00. Let’s do it.”

It is 80 degrees and Sonja wears a pink fluffy coat that pleases her platinum blonde hair. She is from Michigan and it’s winter and in winter you wear coats.

Sonja is a very pretty woman.

The lady at the desk in the Senior Center takes my $4 for Senior Lunch and says to me, “Are you a Senior?”

I fall in love with her.

I almost want to pay her the extra dollar for the Younger People’s Lunch.

We survey the room but are directed to a table at the back. The bridge players get the best tables.

On our way to our table I introduce Sonja to the Man Who Runs The Place.  I mention that she is looking for a Care-Giver’s position. He asks for her card.

I whisper, “He knows everyone here. He can get you work.”

When we get to our table it is our misfortune that we are sitting with a man who yells every word he says and slaps every sentence with a blistering laugh and a holler.

I get a headache almost immediately.

We introduce ourselves to our table mates and mention that Sonja was my mother’s Wonderful Care-Taker and that she is now looking for work.

A woman I happen to know at the next table, over hears me and trots to my side.

Grabbing the back of my chair, Kelli leans toward Sonja and says, “You’ll never get any work here. The Guy Who Runs The Place is having a ‘Thing’ with Carrie Smith. She gets all the work.”

Really?

“Who is Carrie Smith?” I ask.

Kelli hisses and points to a plain, older and stooped lady at another table. She doesn’t look like a vixen to me.

“She’s a Bitch!” Kelli hisses. “She’s dumber than a sack of rocks!” Continue reading