It’s going to rain here in Massachusetts tomorrow, Dear Reader. And that’s important to know.
Because it would seem that you can’t get your oil tank replaced when it’s raining outside.
So my husband gave me a call today at 8:45 asking me what day would be a better day for the men to come by and replace our oil tank.
Less than an hour before, I blew threw three outfits trying to figure out how to be my cutest today. I had a lunch date with The Husband in Cambridge. I had to drive into town for a dental appointment anyway, and I figured the pain would be worth it if I also got to enjoy a little time with my husband afterward. We rarely have ever been able to sneak a mid-day date in since the boys were born. This was going to be a rare treat! And then to be in Cambridge, where we could enjoy any sort of food under the sun?? Oh, it was worth fretting over my outfit. I went full-blown hipster: hot boots, leggings, a patterned and flirty little dress, locs in two little buns, my obnoxiously large editorial glasses, even a little of my Fenty makeup. I’m getting used to it!
Why is this important?
Because tomorrow’s rain blew up my day today. The Husband called and said the tank replacement needed to be rescheduled and I told him that was unacceptable. “They need to come today or you need to inform them that we are going to call another company.”
They rescheduled for 1 today.
So I trekked into Cambridge, got mad compliments from my dentist, then trekked back out here to the ‘burbs. I figured I would settle for crappy takeout, eat it, and pick up the house a little bit to prepare for the men to show up.
When I pulled into my driveway at 12:10, the crew was parked in my driveway.
Lord in Heaven… really? I practically got in an accident when I saw the trucks.
They had come to set up, the leader of the crew said they were dropping off things then going to lunch. They would be back at 1.
I took my bad burrito bowl in the house, took off my hot boots, then did my best to get things in some sort of presentable order around here.
The men were back at 12:30. My personal feeling about promptness is that early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable. But in this one time, this one time, I would have killed for everyone to have been in place when they said they would be!
The gentlemen who hopped out of the two vans have been polite and professional. But first impressions are everything and I’m good at reading expressions. You would have thought I had three heads. For once in my life, I’m fairly sure their funny looks and wide berth has less to do with my Blackness (which I’m sure is surprising enough, given where I live), but more to do with the getup I was wearing. It just screamed “ridiculous, ostentatious Millennial” and “spoiled rotten” and maybe even “precious snowflake.” I didn’t get the opportunity to change into regular clothes until later… but it’s sorta too late now.
Good news, of course, is that this will all be done and I’ll never have to see them again. Bad news is multi-fold, the first of course being that I’m about to be down $1800. Also, my house is just nauseatingly smelly right now. The fumes are not a joke. Blessedly, they seem to be confined to the middle floor and there is a front about to come through. A chilly, but manageable night of open windows should yield a fresher house come morning.
That’s the photo of the inside. Anticlimactic, no? I mean, for all the hassle and all the smell, not to mention 40 years of the most toxic stuff on earth (probably) just hanging out in there day in and day out… I expecting great mounds of rust and sludge, practical oil monsters crawling out of the waste a la The Ring or something… you know? But no, just this. The men were befuddled by my disappointment.
And there it is… isn’t it sexy?
No? Not at all?
Yeah, I know.
But it’s mine.
My neighbor came over in the middle of things to remind me that “homeownership is still awesome!”
“This is why Millennials don’t do this!” I retorted. I pulled at my hair. “My husband and I are great fools! Such great fools!”
“No no no, you’re heads above your peers! You’re doing great!”
He didn’t have to write a check to anyone for 1800 whole American dollars today…
I have a fume-filled house, a foggy head, hungry children, freelancing due and a whole week ahead… how’s your Monday, Dear Reader?