No I am not having an affair. Nor am I between affairs. And no this blog isn’t about sex or getting excited over the physically attractive attributes of men in general. I have publically confessed in the past that any sex drive I may have possessed is long gone thanks to a hysterectomy in my forties. Mind you, I can still appreciate a nice looking man, or person for that matter, from a distance. The same way I appreciate a nice sunset or nice scenery. When it comes to men up close, I am more interested in a good conversation.
This is also not a blog about the long-term men in my life. The guys I love dearly. The guys who can frustrate the by geesus out of me by doing things like handling a greasy package of bacon then touching every damn cupboard handle and every bloody appliance in the kitchen. Then only cleaning up the frying pan. Nope this is not a rant about that. Just a small mention to make my point. The point that I am not going to open that can of worms any further.
So what other men are there? What kind of men are taking up too much space in my over-active brain?
Tradesmen. Construction men. Moving men. Project-managing men. That’s who.
You may recall that we had a leaky pipe between the walls that did quite a bit of damage to the lower level of our home. You can read about that at Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip!
It has been eleven weeks since we called our insurance company. Almost three months! They sent in the project management-man, who quickly arranged to have the leak fixed. Next came the pack-up men, or to be specific the pack-up man and women. These two were very nice and very careful with our stuff while packing every thing up to be put into storage. Arriving after these two were the moving men, who took all the furniture and packed-up items away, and we haven’t seen them since. We were excited. Things seemed to be moving at a good pace.
Then came the tear-out men, who ripped out floors and parts of walls but not the bathroom, which still needs tons of work. These men set up and turned on five industrial-strength fans and a monster-sized dehumidifier before leaving.
For the first two weeks the fans and dehumidifier ran day and night. It was like living in a factory. I can only imagine how high our next power bill will be. By the third week we decided to turn the equipment off at night so we could sleep better. After the third week, we turned all the equipment off and waited …and waited …and waited. After four weeks, we had yet to hear back from the project-management man or anyone else.
The Doc began sending emails. He began leaving voice mails. He began sending text messages. We felt ignored. Rejected. Not important to the men. Finally contact and a break through. A man came to pick up the fans. And then, two weeks ago, a couple of construction men came to put in some subfloor and put up some drywall. Then they left. And we waited …and waited …and waited some more. Waiting time—the time between men—is exhausting.
Once again The Doc sent emails, left voice mails, sent text messages. He called the insurance broker, who answered. This resulted with a phone call from the project-management man who apologized profusely. Sure… Sure… Sure… We know the project-management man is busy, we know that he has over 200 claims that he is working on; but not responding is not an option. It’s rude. It’s bad business. It’s poor customer service. I am not as nice as The Doc, but I wasn’t the one hearing the apology. The Doc accepted the apology. Probably the right response. I, on the other hand, was ranting and raging in my head.
That very afternoon, which happened to be Monday of this week, another construction man came and mucked the seams of the drywall. He came back the next day and the next. He did a nice job… thank heavens. A plumber also came and disconnected all the stuff in the bathroom so it could be taken out, and the big work can begin.
Lets hope we don’t have to wait, and wait and wait some more before something else is done. There is still so much work to do down there. Out of the approximately 80 days since this adventure began, there may, if we stretch it, have been men working here for 10 of those days. Yup, only 10 days.
So excuse me if I get a little excited to see men arrive, because in between men, the days are long as we are waiting and hoping and missing some stuff in storage. And longing for our home to return to normal.
Thank you for reading.
Photos: Yulia Matvienko, Unsplash