Thursday, April 24, 2008

The Story Of EEEEWWW!

I have had several hissy's over contractors, repair people & the like, but my latest experience tops them all.
It all started out quite innocently, I needed to have old faucets replaced.
I did the usual dance, called, made an appt. & waited a mere 2 hours past
the promised time. The plumber finally arrived w/out apology & then argued
w/ me abt what I had hired him for. No, he is not here to replace & install new faucets, he is here to 'LOOK' at the faucets.
When I try to correct him, he starts flailing his arms around, muttering obscenities under his breath. Like the saying goes,
'I'm a mom & you can't scare me', I envision kicking his butt all the way upstairs & handcuffing his ankle so he can't leave until
the job is done. Seeing the old faucets, he informs me there is no way in hell they can be removed short of a blowtorch. He starts muttering again, I start seething & my dog who took an instant dislike, is barking nonstop while trying to lift his leg. Hearing, 'I need a tool', he goes to his truck & returns 20 minutes later. I mentally deduct those minutes from his hourly rate. A 1/2 hour passes & I check his progress. Aha, he was able to remove one of the faucets but is now starring at the new one.
*&#@, there's no @#*# way I can figure out how to get the new %#** one on. I politely suggest that reading the directions
might be helpful. 20 min pass, he clomps into my kitchen flailing his arms again, dog starts barking & I can't hear a word. He yells, 'outside', so off we go. "Lady, I've spent the last 20 minutes vomiting, I'm sick, I'm going home." Instead of leaving
immediately, he stays another 5 minutes telling me how he was spewing his guts out, upchucking, retching, blowin gravy,
hurling, barfing w/ 'I think I got most of it up Lady', every other sentence. My mind freezes on those 9 words, while inching
towards my door. I manage to say, 'feel better', slamming the door in his face. OMG!!!! I am totally grossed out wondering
where I can get a hazmat suit, 10 gallon bleach sprayer & 20 foot long tongs. I'm pacing back & forth using as many
adjectives for gross as he did for vomit. Corner of my eye, I see that he left his tools on my porch. I start prancing w/ eeeww as my new mantra. Seconds later, 'eeewww' turns to 'oh shit'. He's still here, puking off my porch into the mulch. I'm back to 'eewww', knowing I have to add a 20 ft shovel to my list because if my dog gets out..... 'EEEEEWWWWWW'

3 comments:

arlene said...

What a "wretched" story!

Note to self: Learn basic DIY skills!

wintergreen.3 said...

I hope you deduct the time you spent cleaning up after Mr Vomit. After all, your time is just as (if not more) valuable than his.

Kris Henderson said...

OK so I surfed into your blog from I don't know where....not really knowing what to expect...but well, I don't think I expected this.
You have my sympathy and I have to admit....your story is amusing and disgusting at the same time. Off to read more of your stuff.
I wish you good luck Lady.