A Suitable Man, love in the age of disappointment

The contractor we spoke to on Saturday has already given us a proposal, which is reasonable. We know he is good because he rebuilt a friend's house. This feels like the real thing. Match.com or EHarmony of the construction world. "I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love with a wonderful guy." Hope this isn't too hot not to cool down.

Pray for us.

On another good news front, the post office finally coughed up three packages they have not been able to locate for a month. I returned the large identifying Postal Department sticker the postman had jammed in my mailbox rather than peel and apply to the outside of the unit.

Am I a fascist because I wish the postal workers ignoring the customers wouldn't speak Chinese to each other while avoiding eye contact with the ever longer line?.

Healthcare under the government will be even more interesting than it is with insurance companies.

Grey Gardens, deja vu

This Grey Gardens stuff has to stop.  

Tonight Eddie and Lulu were chasing the rat around the kitchen when I walked in.  I freaked and opened the door, hoping he would leave of his own volition.  The pups backed off at the last minute and he ran toward his hole.  I ran back in the kitchen and he froze.  I had on boots and I stomped.  Couldn't believe I could do such a thing.  He was still alive so I stomped again and then kicked him three yards and out the door.  I was freaked.  How do people kill things, much less other people?  

Ullrich swears his last words were "Don't take me to Palisades General."  You have to live in Northern New Jersey to appreciate that.

I just hope it was "him."  If I killed a teenager I would feel really bad.  

And then I went to Lucianne's to drink vodka and eat pot roast and brownies. It's ok now.

Overwhelmed

I've just been feeling so overwhelmed.  I have five properties to take care of and they are all in various stages of disrepair, I can't find contractors, people don't show up, and it is too, too discouraging.  I feel like one of those spinsters from the movies in my childhood who gives up on love because her heart has been broken time and time again.  I've been ripped off, robbed, disappointed and deluded by every trade in the business.

Right now, the condo in Ptown needs a paint job, and unknown other things. We had a major leak this year and I haven't had time to get up there to check things so it will be ready for rental again next season.  

The mountain cabin is without a furnace or hot water heater,  and the siding is half finished. There are holes in the walls from the last plumbing repairs, and the grass wasn't mowed once this year. To say it needs cleaning is beyond understatement.  The mouse poop alone is daunting.  (Why do they like to have babies under my duvet?)

The house in France needs a total renovation, the paper work is mountainous and approval takes forever. We do have some great people who will probably be the contractors.  Google "Sweet French Cottages."  Rain and Lance are very talented.

The rental house in Edgewater seems to be in good shape except for the enormous old stove sitting outside which Best Buy didn't take away and can't seem to schedule pick up.

The other house in Edgewater is very Grey Gardens, with three broken windows, peeling paint, a leak or two, some mold, and sensitive electrical connections.  There is a dead bulb in the bathroom light which will not budge after eighteen years of providing service.  We may still have the rat, the raccoons are getting in the basement somehow and the squirrels' nest is expanding in the eaves. Eddie peed in his sleep the other night.  Jeez.  I feel like it.

I am also horribly disorganized.  Although this house has ten rooms, most of them are small and there is little storage space.  I know there is too much stuff, but  I love the clothes I bought twenty years ago and still wear them.  It makes for bad feng shui though.

Every day I make a list and every day it gets longer and more frustrating.  Business is good, which is a lifesaver, because it helps me feel competent.  On the other hand, I stayed with my dear friend and client, Marsha Kellogg, last week when I was up in Hartford to do some work with her,  and her house could be in a magazine tomorrow morning and you could even show the inside of the closets and drawers.  

So, what to do?  I realized that I felt helpless because I am helpless.  Support is called for and I'm not getting it around here or there. The Solution:   I called my dear friend, Pat Magee, and she will fly in from St. Louis for four days to help me attack the situation.  Since that phone call this morning, I've accomplished more than I have for weeks.  We got a highly recommended contractor to show up and promise to get back to us next week.  I just fixed the vacuum cleaner's three problems and am loaded for bear.  Even threw out two broken pieces of furniture, and am planning on washing my face and brushing my teeth BEFORE I go to bed.  

The moral seems to be that one needs morale.  Just knowing there is even one person you can call makes all the difference.  It sounds so corny and I feel so inadequate that I can't just get all this stuff handled, but it is what it is and now I'm feeling fine.