On Monday, I was dressed, ready for work, and had little Paul packed away in his kitchen at 8:50 am. I had a doctor's appointment at 9:00 am that had been rescheduled four times this summer due to meetings. I went down to my garage and tried to open the door. It went up, but stopped halfway. I tried again, same result. Then, I did what any single girl would do, I called my dad. His advice: try to open it manually. I unlatched whatever it is you have to unlatch in order to do so, and I tried to open it manually. The bitch still stopped halfway. Very frustrated, and VERY HOT, I called Frank back and told him that I give up, I'm calling the garage door repairman. Three hours later, said repairman arrived at my doorstep. I walked him down to the garage and explained my despair. He flipped one latch over on the side of the damn door and fixed the problem. I think I muttered several expletives under my breath and fought every urge not to pull out my hair. Luckily, his trip was not completely pointless. I did need a new spring and new rollers. He readily replaced these, upsell successful! I returned to my living room and watched another episode of Who's the Boss while I worked on my laptop and took care of business, all the while thinking, I am an idiot. Garage fixed, I headed to work at 1:30 pm. What a Monday.
Tuesday brought on a new set of problems. I am refinishing my bathtub, so naturally, I asked a refinisher to come out and give me an estimate. He did. He also checked some minor plumbing issues I've been having with the tub, i.e. a leak coming out of that weird round thing that doesn't serve a purpose, or at least not an obvious one that I care about. Oh, this is different, he exclaims, as he digs around with the screwdriver. Shit, I think. You definitely need to call a plumber, this probably isn't an issue, but you need to get it checked out. Awesome. The plumber comes on Friday. Let's hope I don't discover a termite infestation in the meantime.
Welcome to being a grown up on your own up,