Saturday, May 03, 2014

Home (And Other) Improvements

"It would betray a lamentable ignorance of the principles governing Divine election and favour, not to say of patent and notorious facts, to suppose that our seeing what so many are blind to is due in any degree to superior intellectual acumen or to more extensive information and erudition on our part; or even to our superior fidelity to grace and light.”
 - George Tyrrel, Hard Sayings

Somebody recently scolded me for using profanity in what they considered an inappropriate context. Apparently, sanctimony is less offensive; a rule of civilized discourse about which I was lamentably ignorant. And yet somehow, my gentle sensibilities were wounded. Instead of lashing back with better words to further elucidate my position on the topic being discussed, I took the high road and simply added a line to the list of regrets I’ll review on my deathbed. Since then, I’ve added yet another item: I missed seeing the Roger Corman movie Sharktopus on TV last Saturday (Thanks, Dr. Dr. K.). At this rate, I’m going to need a long and lingering death.

It’s not that I claim a superior fidelity to grace and light. It’s just that these days I’m on my last nerve with trying to manage home improvements, and that leaves me little time to address self-improvements.

I’m getting my house fixed up and maxing out my home equity line of credit to do so: the theory being that once it’s done and doesn’t look like this “before” picture (discovered here) I can sell it and downsize my life and extracurricular responsibilities. I’ve been trying to do this for a while now and I’m tired. I think I’m finally past the stage of denying that I’m a hoarder (although I haven’t thrown away the coat rack in the laundry room that falls over if you put a scarf on one hook). 

The guys did finally haul away the window air conditioner that had stopped working sometime in the mid-20th century and had simply been pushed out the window into the front yard where climbing vines made a lovely square topiary shape out of it. Last Saturday I made a trip to the hazardous waste disposal facility to dispose of those empty paint cans, pesticides I haven’t used since the room air conditioner stopped working, and some other chemicals that might otherwise have been admitted into evidence at my trial for the unsolved disappearance of a door-to-door bible salesman back in the day the old AC still worked.

I’m at the stage where I want to find an app to adjust the privacy settings on my life so people will leave me the fuck alone. Then, I need an app to make me avoid unnecessary profanity. But in that order, because while I have unnecessary people in my life, profanity keeps me from explaining that since actions speak louder than words it would be easier to punch them in the throat than use non-profane words alone to express how I feel about them. And by somebody, let me be clear: I mean everybody, no disrespect.

Meanwhile, I have to take the unnecessary dog to the dog beach in >90F heat so I can return home with a puppy tired enough to chill out, turn on the air conditioning, have some bourbon and popcorn, and watch old Godzilla movies until it gets dark and cools off.

The handymen will return after the weekend, as will the painters. Then it’s the tree guys, the pond guy and the termite guy. Then, heart bursting with hope, I will list this money pit on Zillow, cash out, and enter the Witness Protection Program. Then, self-improvement. I fucking promise.

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