GetSheila

Bah HallowHumbug

It is Halloween again, that time of year where several of us at the office want to dress up but Buff Kahuna does not so none of us do.

I play their damn Fantasy Football game when I don’t want to. I PARTICIPATE in something I do not want to do. Why can’t he?

Maybe it is because I am beating him at Fantasy Football even though I do not know how to play and only looked at my team once after I was allotted my original lineup. Did you know you can add and delete players? I just found that out this week.

Yet still I am beating Big Kahuna.

I think I shall dress up today anyway. I will go as the I Don’t Give a Crap Fairy. My red, furry crown will be askew. The elastic holding my wings on will show. The red tutu is too small so I will wear it on one thigh or perhaps on the strap of my purse. Because I could give a crap.

Happy Halloween, people.

 

Technorati Tags: Halloween 2008

SWF looking for handy man. Must love cats.

Yesterday was my birthday. My neighbors gave me the gift of quiet. I gave myself the gift of digging in the dirt, adding water, digging some more and ending up all muddy. There used to be a tree next to my spa, you see. Well, here, see:

It was right in that area that is surrounded by pavers. Why anyone would plant a tree that close to the spa, the house, and the patio is a mystery. It was a beautiful, giant crepe myrtle with red blooms, too. You can imagine the mess when the blooms started dropping, right over the spa, every damn day (or so it seemed.)

A closer look at the hole, before excavation:

Yeah, Root City. I subsequently took out the rest of the pavers and began digging. I found my sprinkler lines. I found the extra line that goes over to the outdoor shower: the useless outdoor shower that only sprays cold water so, um, WHY? And I found some REALLY BIG roots that run under my sprinkler lines and, apparently, continue on under the patio.

I gave up and came inside to take a shower.

The picture is blurry but please note the extra pinkness about my cheeks. This is two hours after over-exerting myself. I always get red in the face, have done since I was a kid. It tends to alarm people, who tell me to sit down and offer to bring me water. This can be useful at times.

So now I have a big muddy hole in the backyard with a bunch of dead roots strewn across my lawn and many more still to extract. Then I get to put all the mud back, compact it with a hand tamper because I am too cheap to rent a motorized one, lay weed barrier fabric, and put all the pavers back.

But first I will obsess about how the weed barrier cannot possibly stop tree root shoots that look like giant bunches of bean sprouts. Amazingly strong bean sprouts. So strong they push up the pavers and look like little aliens reaching for the sun. And if they are so strong, should I bother with the weed barrier? Won’t that make it harder to get to, and dig out, the bean sprouts once they push a paver up and out of alignment? And what about leveling? Shouldn’t I put down sand to properly level the pavers? But isn’t that yet another level to go through if the alien bean sprouts cause misalignment?

I may have a muddy hole in my backyard for some time while I struggle with decision coma brought on by pre-DIY’ers remorse.

 

Technorati Tags: home improvement,laying pavers,spa

Party all the time

I was fine when my new neighbors had a loud Saturday night party. I was fine when, a few weeks later, they had a Saturday night birthday party that was just as loud and ran just as late.

I know it was a birthday party because everyone gathered in the back yard at 10:50pm to sing the happy birthday song at the top of their lungs. (Yes, I was in bed at 10:50 on a Saturday night. Shut up.) Did I mention their house faces a through-street while mine is the first house on a cul-de-saq so their backyard is right outside my bedroom window?

So I suppose it is no surprise there was yet more loud music and laughter and video gaming and children squealing but I draw the line at 11:30pm on a Wednesday night.

Picture me throwing on jeans and standing in front of the mirror trying to decide whether to put a jacket over my tank dress PJ / rumpled jeans combo before heading over to politely ask them to shut the fuck up.

A man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties opened the door, though do not rely on me when it comes to guessing age. Anyone under forty is “mid-twenties” to me. He was accompanied by a young boy. I had thought, perhaps, the children I heard squealing were really young adults over-excited by the video game. Surely responsible parents would not let their young children stay up this late on a school night.

But life is full of surprises to fuel my sense of outraged disapproval.

I was polite. I introduced myself and explained that I lived behind them and how their back door was right next to my bedroom so could they please turn the music down and also close their sliding glass door? By 10:00pm on weeknights?

I added that I hated to be such a party pooper because they sounded like they were having a really good time.

I smiled a lot.

The man did not smile but he did bob his head and say okay and repeated “by 10:00.”

Back in bed, it was sweet, blissful quiet. They continued to party but had turned down the music and closed the door so I only heard the tiniest beat of bass, and only if I strained my ears and concentrated real hard.

I lay awake, feeling a bit anxious about having to go over there but glad I did all the same. Perhaps it was the Tejano music that sent me over the edge. Would I have bothered if it was rock and roll? I do wonder.

Should I still bake cookies and introduce myself properly in the daylight? Maybe I will wait and see if they bake cookies for me as a peace offering.

I am not holding my breath.

 

Technorati Tags: loud neighbors,neighborhood ettiquette

Does it take a village to move a fridge?

No, it does not take a village to move a fridge. It just takes an extension on the water line if you wish to continue to enjoy ice in your beverages and cool, refreshing filtered water.

STEP 1: Start by clearing your destination (left) and pulling the fridge away from its existing location (right) to see just what is back there. (Lots of dust, some stuck to the floor in clumps due to the ice that missed your glass and ricocheted under the fridge to melt on top of said dust, along with various pieces of dry cereal, cat food pellets, and that metal thing you could not find after it flew off of your kitchen tongs, causing them to never work properly again.)

STEP 2: Discover the water line that feeds your ice maker and in-the-door filtered water dispenser is 1) too short to reach the new fridge location and 2) run not through the floor and under the house but rather along the toe-kick area of the kitchen cabinets.

STEP 2.5: Feel very ghetto about this. Next, look at the picture of your cabinets and remember how you removed the old hardware that was thoughtfully placed smack in the middle of each door but decided not to refinish them because you were going to remodel soon so wouldn’t that be a waste of effort? Feel even more ghetto when you realize that was over one year ago.

STEP 3: Get some inexpensive flexible tubing to extend the water line temporarily so you can live with the fridge in the new location for a while and see if you actually like it there.

By “extend,” I mean run the tubing along the baseboard and across the doorway, then throw a rug on top of it in a feeble attempt to disguise your ghettoness.

Promise yourself you will make a more permanent, less visible solution soon. The same day that you paint the cabinets.

In the meantime, vow to get a tall cabinet for the space next to the fridge to use as a pantry, thus freeing up the living room cabinets, which are currently full of kitchen appliances that do not fit in the 1970’s cabinets with shelves that do not adjust.

STEP 4: Put a small table where the fridge used to be and move the microwave to it, thereby freeing up acres of counter space. Note that though you still have to look at your garbage and recycling bins, at least they are somewhat camouflaged and serve the added purpose of hiding the ugly copper water line and coils of new extension tubing. Bonus!

Marvel at how you can now reach, hence use, the cabinets that used to be out of reach above the refrigerator. Curse that they are stupidly small and do not hold any of the kitchenware you need to move back from the living room, then throw the paper plates up there and fancy glass salad bowl shaped like a big leaf of lettuce that you never use anyway.

STEP 5: Marvel at all the space you seem to have now. Dream about making the entire back family room, currently the exercise area – with fireplace, one big kitchen.

Go to bed dreaming of granite countertops and cabinets with adjustable, rolling, lazy-susan shelves.

 

Technorati Tags: refridgerator water line extension,home improvement,move your fridge

My back hurts, so it counts as exercise

I did not get on the treadmill this weekend. I did, however, do THIS:

What, you don’t see it? Here is a hint:

That is one of the old fixtures that used to flank my front porch. It was corroded and gross and soooo not my style. Plus the motion sensors were schizophrenic and would turn on whenever they felt like it: when a cat walked by, when the wind blew, when Gary across the street opened his garage door.

Gary used to go outside for a smoke and notice it turn on, so he would spend the rest of his smoke break walking back and forth in his driveway to see if he could get the other light to turn on.

Yes, Gary is easily amused but he has every tool known to mankind and is always happy to help with projects. I try not to make fun of Gary.

Here is one of the lights more uppy-closey:

I know they are not your standard style but I like them. I plan to paint the trim and door a deep espresso brown one day and I am hoping these will blend nicely with that more Spanishy look.

Gary said these lights make it more along the lines of Japanese-Spanish.

We pause to re-think our don’t-make-fun-of-Gary policy.

Please ignore the holes in the stucco from the old fixtures. I plugged them up after I took the pictures and will paint them soon. What is that you say? You did not think the old gold monstrosities were mounted up that high? You are correct! Those holes are from the fixtures that were mounted before the gold monstrosities that no one bothered to plug up. Don’t even mention the part where the gold fixtures did not cover as much of the stucco as the prior fixtures but no one bothered to paint those areas to match the rest of the house. Just don’t!

I think perhaps subconsciously I bought big fat fixtures so I would have as little painting and plugging to do as possible. I had no idea my subconscious was so devious.

Bonus: by installing the third fixture next to the garage, I not only got rid of the ugly metal plate that someone put up when they took down, but did not replace, an old security light but I also discovered that fixture runs on circuit breaker #3. I have now traced every single outlet, switch and fixture to its controlling circuit breaker. Order has been restored to my universe.

On to landscaping: First, please ignore any brown, dead-looking stuff you may see in my yard. Second, I want to replace those rose bushes with something big and leafy and tropical-ish – or perhaps green and exotic and Spanish-ish – but I really have no clue when it comes to plants. Any ideas?

Technorati Tags: porch lights,home improvement

Sheep Sheila

I spotted this meme at Writtenwyrdd and felt compelled to jump on the bandwagon. Did she tag me? Er, no. I am just a sheep. A sheep with no other blogging ideas and a narcissistic bent.

1.  What do you do before bedtime?
I fold my comforter down to the foot of the bed, in accordion fashion for easy middle-of-the-night grabbing and distributing. Then I put my body pillow under the covers and fold down the other side of the bed so it is all ready for me after I wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on my PJ’s.

I love bed.

2.  What is  your favorite sound?
Big Band music. I know not why. There is just something about that jazzy stuff that makes me want to get up and dance. Dang, I need to find a Swing class around here. I have the shoes! Now all I need is a partner.

3.  What were your childhood fears?
Vampires. The only monsters that scared me were those fanged guys and gals. I used to pull the covers up to just under my chin and tuck them down behind my ears to keep the fangs away from my neck…because cloth will totally stop fangs from penetrating. Duh.

4.  What place have you visited that you can't forget and want to go back?
My youth.

5.  What has made you unhappy these days?
Where do I start?

• Gas. No, not gas prices. GAS.
• Getting older and fatter and wrinklier and realizing how hard it is to get back in shape now that I have actually started. Sucks, though I do feel better. Gotta love those endorphins.
• Knowing I make a lot of money in comparison to the average Joe yet still seem to live from paycheck to paycheck, even though I have no credit card debt to speak of. I have a house. I have a fuel-efficient new car. I am trying not to think about all the fixes I want to do to my house but cannot afford. Grouse grouse grouse.

6.  What websites do you visit daily?
I do not visit websites much anymore. I read feeds. These are the regulars:

• Woulda Coulda Shoulda
• Suburban Bliss
• CuteOverload
• Notes from the Bunker
• WWdN in Exile
• Totally Unauthorized
• Scobelizer
• I’d Like to Buy a Bowel
• State of Grace
• Writtenwyrdd

Two of these, the first two listed, only provide a snippet in their feed so I have to click over to their blog to read the entire thing. I find this rude and annoying because I know the sole purpose is to generate money for the blogger from page views on their website. My policy is to unsubscribe to these truncated feeds immediately because I don’t need that kind of aggravation. But these two ladies entertain me. And I may one day start to advertise on my blog so who am I to call foul?

I also read a lot of tax blogs for work. Boring yet necessary.

7.  What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
No one. I am a total sheep. I did find it at Writtenwyrdd, though. She seems to enjoy helping her fellow writers by sharing her experiences. As a closeted writer, I appreciate that in a person.

8.  What's the last song that got stuck in your head?
Goodnight Sweetheart, because of this guy and the singing of the puppies to sleep. I will be walking down the hall and suddenly “Doh-doh-dee-oh-DOH” jumps out of my mouth for no apparent reason. Very embarrassing.

9.   What is your favorite item of clothing? 
My blue plaid flannel pajama pants and accompanying stretchy white top, with long sleeves but thin fabric so I don’t get too hot. Who doesn’t love pajamas?

10. What is your dream for the future?
To stay alive and in relatively good health until I am very old, surrounded by friends and family.

 

How about you? Pick a question (or two or three or ten) and answer it in the comments.

Technorati Tags: meme,about getsheila

Tax Follies Tuesday

Tomorrow is the final extension deadline for filing your 2007 personal income taxes.

Yeah, I am talking to you. You who have not yet provided your tax information to your accountant yet think there is still plenty of time to get it done.

You, small thinker, who do not factor in to your imaginary timeline all the other last-minute filers who also just dropped off their stuff.

Hm, who shall I work on first?

1. Impersonal Procrastinator Guy,
2. Flakey Florence O’Lakey, or
3. The Happy Harringtons.

Let me tell you a little bit about each of them first then you help me decide.

Impersonal Procrastinator Guy mails in his info the week before the final extension deadline. It consists of a stack of check stubs for the entire year (which were ready to send to me January 1st, after he wrote the last 2007 check), 1099’s and other statements he clearly received back in January, and nothing else. No personal note, no summary of the aforementioned check stubs (did I mention there were about 300 550 checks to enter and categorize?), no box of chocolates to acknowledge his trespass upon our good graces, and, most importantly, no payroll information for his one employee I need every year but always have to go back and request because he never provides it on the first go-round.

So I contact Impersonal Procrastinator Guy’s payroll dude, Old Cranky Guy, who ignores my email and first two phone calls but finally returns my third call -- the one where I say it would be such a shame if our mutual client received a penalty simply because I was unable to obtain his payroll information on time -- to say he cannot simply give me that information. When I remind him he has provided it to us every year for the past ten years or so he says, “Yes, but I had specific permission from the client to do so each time!” I hold the phone away from my ear as he spews this at great volume.

I want to ask him if he even bothered to consult the file to confirm he has provided this info to us in the past, as I indicated in my email and voice messages.

I want to ask him why he did not simply call the client for permission or call me back to say, sure, no problem, but please have the client call me to say it is okay first.

I want to ask him politely to sit on it and rotate.

Instead, I put a smile in my voice and tell him that is no problem because I contacted Helpful Hannah, Impersonal Procrastinator Guy’s assistant, that very morning to explain what I needed so she should be contacting him any minute to request the info herself.

Flaky Florence O’Lakey had a death in the family and was so discombobulated she could not get it together until now. This is very sad. This makes me want to do everything I can to get her returns done on time.

But wait, déjà vu? I check the file to discover she brings her info in at the last minute every year, even in years when everyone is perfectly healthy and alive. I suddenly feel less charitable. She does, however, apologize for her tardiness, acknowledge I may not be able to get it done on time, and thanks me profusely each year when I do.

The Happy Harringtons have a lot going on. They have their own businesses, a few rentals, some K-1 income, and various other tax things going on but nothing too complicated. The Happy Harringtons return my emails and phone calls promptly and laugh at how inept they are at bookkeeping, yet they are truly quite organized. The Happy Harringtons send homemade goodies every year at Christmas.

So what do you think? Who wins the tax preparation lottery?

Yeah, it’s kind of a no-brainer, isn’t it?

Technorati Tags: tax follies,tax return final extension deadline,individual income taxes,personal income taxes

What I did this weekend: Episode 357

I finally got around to installing the last ceiling fan that has been sitting in my garage for months staring at me in a scornful manner every time I get out of my car. Now all three bedrooms have matching fans. Order is restored. All is right with the world.

So then I decided to open another package that has been sitting in my garage for months and replace my perfectly good programmable thermostat with a NEW AND IMPROVED programmable thermostat that lets you set one schedule for weekdays and a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT schedule for the weekend. Oh the decadence.

I highly recommend the Honeywell RTH6300B programmable thermostat. The instructions made installation a breeze. They even give you pre-labeled stickies so you can label each wire as you detach it from your old thermostat, enabling easy attachment to the right place on the new one. And there are plenty of leftover stickies, which will come in handy when I take my former perfectly good programmable thermostat over to my friend Micky’s house and replace her old dialy-button one.

I took the picture from way back so you could see my doorbell in all its 1970’s glory. Every time I look at it I want to wrap a tye-dye scarf around my Farrah Fawcett layers and apply some white opaque lipstick before grabbing my cat-eye glasses and going for a spin in my TR7.

  

I didn’t quite get to the exterior lights I bought for my front porch – also months ago – but I did get one out of the box and read the instructions. Apparently you need to caulk around the top and sides so as not to electrocute the fixtures brains when it rains. Guess I will have to go to Lowes this week.

Why haven’t I bought stock in Lowes yet? Perhaps now is a good time to buy.

Technorati Tags: honeywell programmable thermostat,rth6300b,home improvement,ceiling fan

Twilight Zone?

Um, exqueeze me but What The Hell?

It was 86 degrees here just last Wednesday, I swear!

Technorati Tags: weather,season change

It’s all about them

We all know at least one, that person who turns everything around and makes it about them.

Celebrating a brand new car? They have one, too! And it’s better!

Lost some weight? They lost more and in a more spectacular fashion, like eating nothing but lima beans and dried yak for six months straight.

Won the Nobel prize? They do great things every day. Why didn’t someone give them a prize?

It is all about them. For some reason, these people cannot celebrate the good fortune of others. If someone else is happy, they take it as a personal affront.

I have known several people like this so far in my 43 years. I call them the Mimis, as in “Is is all about ME ME ME.” Recently I discovered the Mimis come in two distinct flavors, the Negative Despiser and the Gleeful Narcissist.

The Negative Despiser

ND’s are characterized by negative comments about everything and everybody and carry the inability-to-be-happy-for-others gene. At work, management CLEARLY favors others over ND, though ND is BY FAR the better worker. It is so unfair.

At home, nobody appreciates ND, though ND does all the cooking and cleaning AND works full time. Never mind ND-spouse left a perfectly good, equally well paying, secure job behind. Never mind the teenagers were wrenched away from friends and family. ND-Spouse and the kids did not pick up their socks one day last week, hence they are ungrateful.

The Gleeful Narcissist

GN’s, on the other had, are gleefully oblivious to the lives of those around them. GN wants to tell you about how brave he was when he broke his leg. He wants to describe, in detail, the night he was so violently sick or how helpful he was to someone in need. GN walks around looking glum in the hopes you will ask if anything is wrong then listen to him tell you all about it. Hasn’t GN been through a lot? Look what a good person GN is! If GN expresses interest in what is going on in your life, it is only the opening gambit in his ploy to get you to ask what is going on in his. If you don’t ask, he will tell you anyway as soon as you stop talking.

The Pot Stirrer

There is a third type of person, The Pot Stirrer, that is not a Mimi but hovers around them like a hungry hyena. PS takes joy in passing on information. It is all very innocent, of course. If the bosses were talking about her like that, she would certainly want to know. Never mind it was a private conversation that did not include PS, Boss was just venting, and there was no real issue with ND or GN.

PS is evil. PS fuels ND’s negativity and crushes GN’s feelings. PS creates havoc and chaos where there need be none. In fact, if there is none, PS stirs the pot a bit and – voilà – bad feelings everywhere.

I have known several of these types in the past but made a conscious choice to cut them out of my life. Every once in a while I run into one and wonder: Is ND ever happy for anyone else? Does GN realize his need for approval and validation is so transparent? Why won’t PS just die already?

And yes, I appreciate the irony that I have a blog where all I do is talk about ME ME ME.

Hi. My name is Mimi.

ND: A friend just finished remodeling his master bathroom. It is quite fabulous. All I could think about, however, were his complaints about his wife’s shopping addiction and how she was going to run him into bankruptcy. And how much more I deserved a fabulous new master bathroom than she does.

GN: A friend told me she had finally started exercising. I said “Me too!” and proceeded to tell her all about my new exercise plan without really asking about hers. Then last week I told someone a story in which someone else praised me for a job well done. So needy yet I feel not the least bit gleeful.

PS: I sometimes tell people things others have said about them. I can’t help it. I have no verbal filter. Don’t tell me anything you don’t want the rest of the world to know. And you know I have a blog so double trouble.

Is there a support group for this sort of thing, Assholes Anonymous perhaps? Of course there is!

Technorati Tags: negative people,narcissists,schaedenfreude