Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Deadbeats, Backaches & Baths

I'm curious about something.

This is the second time in the span of a two weeks Brian has tried to evict people out of their house. That sounds mean, right? Well, consider this: these people haven't paid their mortgage in almost six months. They finally got the court order to vacate about a month ago. They ignored it. Last week when Brian and George tried to get them out, a cop was there and he told them they needed at least four people to do the job and didn't let them do it. Today they went back with four people, making it six in total, more than enough to empty a house of its contents and deal with potentially unhappy people.

Brian ran around for hours last night setting up guys to come help, letting them know what they'd get paid, etc. They made sure they were equipped with the necessary manpower and paperwork and that everything was by the book. Well, upon arriving back there this morning, they found the people had gone to court yesterday to file an appeal and AGAIN they were unable to complete the task. These homeowners, who live on welfare think it's really funny this keeps happening. They're under the impression once our President elect gets into office, they will continue to be able to live like this.

So....hmmm. Am I correct in my assessment that we go to work every day to earn money to pay for not only the privlege to live in our house but also to have a portion of our money go to pay for these people to sit around and laugh at us? I'm certainly not an economics student, but something feels slightly unfair about this. Then again, maybe I've been going at it all wrong this whole time. Obviously these people are much smarter than I am; they've obviously figured out how to live for free! What I'd really like to do is call them up and ask them their secret!

While Brian was out last night I wanted to surprise him when he got home. So I greeted him at the door wearing a French maid uniform holding a tray with a martini and a cigar.

No.

I put up four 100-string white lights all around the living and dining rooms. I stood up on stools. I climbed up on tables. I slipped and fell and landed on the hardwood floor. Luckily my back broke my fall. The dog became very concerned because he isn't used to seeing me lying in the fetal position crying. As I lay there I thought about how most accidents happen in the home and how I always yell at people not to do certain things while they're home alone. But who ever takes their own advice? Not me, that's who. Today I'm not doing too badly. Sore definitely, maybe walking with a slight limp, but that's not too far off from most days, so it's cool. I am going to do something tonight I haven't done in years, literal years. I, Kim L. Fanning, am going to take a bath.

I hate baths. It hasn't always been this way - there were years when bath time was the high point of the day. My sister and I took our baths together with an entire arsenal of Fisher Price bath toys. We made suds hats and beards. We played Clumsy Waitress and dumped cups of water over each other. Mr. Bubble was our best friend and constant companion. I don't know when my feelings changed, but as I got older and started bathing alone it just lost its appeal.

My sister, she still loves her a nice long bath. When they built their house she made sure she got the tub of her dreams and still considers it one of her favorite luxuries. I've tried. I've brought books in with me. I've used fancy, great-smelling bubbles, salts, beads, you name it. Once, not too long ago I even tried Mr. Bubble again. Nothing works. I can't reconcile myself to sitting around in my own dirt while the water slowly gets cool and clammy and then having to rinse off under the shower anyway. What is the frigging point? Skip all that and take a nice hot shower with shower-related great-smelling stuff and be done with it.

Eh, I think I just talked myself out of taking a bath tonight. I'll sit on the couch with the heating pad and probably produce the same effect. Without getting wet and cold. If there is a moral to this story, I would say it's this:
Don't climb up on stuff when you're home alone or you might have to take a bath.

7 comments:

morethananelectrician said...

"So I greeted him at the door wearing a French maid uniform holding a tray with a martini and a cigar."

If you were doing things like this, it would explain your recent bouts with lateness.

Once I explained the *bathing in your own filth* thing to my son, he started wanting to take showers too.

Psuedokim said...

I don't even know how to talk dirty, you think I'm gonna dress like that!?!
Me = PRUDE

snerkology said...

A BATH!?! A fate worse than death! Heh. You crack me up. Also? Invest in a hot tub if you possibly can. No bath connotations, lots and lots of nookie encouragement. You know, for when your back feels better. ~grin~

iamheatherjo said...

What?!?! You couldn't do the French maid dealie for Brian?!?!?!

Poor guy. ;)

Psuedokim said...

I'm already his maid, I just don't dress like it!

iamheatherjo said...

That's not the same and you know it, missy. ;)

Dana said...

It makes me very angry to see people like those you describe, working the system, cheating the system....and we're the ones who pay for it. I'm sorry Brian has to deal with crap like that.