What Next?

Really! What freaking next?!

Tonight I was pulling the chain to turn off the light on the ceiling fan in the Arizona room and the globe fell off and hit the floor, shattering and flying everywhere.

I think this stinking house is haunted. Ever since the 31st of December, things have been falling apart. Just hit me again. I love this Abuse By Real Estate!

The plumber didn't reattach the pool shower to the water line. C'mon, why wouldn't you return the system to the status quo? And why would you think I want to stick my hand down in the ground each time I have to top off the water level in the pool?

The painter has a good eye for color. This is his livelihood, for God's sake. I told him I wanted a very pale-almost white-gray in the kitchen. I got a very pale-almost white-blue. I hate it. Hate. But this is not about me. This is about potential buyers. I will leave it up to the realtor when we meet on Sunday or Monday. If he says the kitchen color is bad, I'll call the painter and bring him back. But if he says it's okay, it stays. And I will hate it until the moment I walk out and lock the door behind me for the final time.

And now, in the midst of Mozart hell week-plus-three-days, I have to find time to go to Ace Hardware or Lowe's or wherever and find another globe for the stinking ceiling fan.

This all comes back to needing a personal assistant. When one has to manage home maintenance by telephone with keys left under mats, one gets whatever the workman thinks is best. Really, I could just cry from exhaustion over the housing events of the past three weeks. And my checkbook could cry from overuse.

Would somebody just give me a break? Please? Why do I have to keep proving to these ghosts and gremlins and goblins how strong I am? Efuckingnough!