Mi novio, Anthony, recibe una noticia que le dice que va a ir a Lima, Peru! Vamos a ir a Lima en abril o mayo 2008. Invitamos todos de nuestros amigos y familia a visitar nosotros!!!
(There is clearly room for improvement with my Spanish and I will definitely be working on it over the next few months!)
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Three days in Seattle
Our time in Seattle was short-lived. I wish I could say I was more awake for it, but I had spent such long days in Portland, walking and hiking and walking some more, that I was quite worn out by the time we arrived at the Amtrak station a good thirty to forty minutes after we were expected.
Michelle and Tom picked us up and dropped us off at the Green Tortoise Hostel. It was incredibly nice of them to chauffer us around, but I'm afraid I was so out of it that I didn't thank them a quarter as much as they deserved. Especially considering that Tom had been in Seattle for six weeks and was going to spend his first weekend off listening to our inane prattle and trying to ignore our silly suggestions (such as donning a tea cozy a la Dobby in the Harry Potter series or stopping at the Kwik E Mart so we could investigate whether or not Apu was working behind the counter).
My body had not yet adjusted to the vigors of the Northwest coast so I was also beginning a low level sinus infection that weekend. Boy, was I ever LAME. (Although not quite as lame as the kid who sat diagonally from us on the train for the five hour ride from Portland to Seattle. When we were getting off the train, he was regaling his seat partner about an invention of his that would suck all the oxygen out of the earth's atmosphere. All he said he needed was about $10 million in government funding. Yes, he was totally serious. And no, I don't think he knew the guy sitting next to him. But the seats on the train were assigned and that poor guy just couldn't get away – he was assigned to the window seat.)
Our first night in Seattle offered us all the comparison we needed to differentiate it from Portland. I've been told that Portland is exactly like Seattle was about 10-15 years ago but it is hard to imagine that much transformation in so little a period of time. Portland is extremely quiet. Most of the stores and cafes close down by 6PM every night. There were never a lot of people out on the streets, whether it was a Saturday night or a Tuesday morning, and, unless you staid downtown, many of the storefronts were vacant. Although I am willing to concede that we may have missed some of the more vibrant corners of Portland, none of these descriptions even begin to apply to Seattle.
Seattle is far more cosmopolitan. The streets pulsed with the bustle and movement of people, something I've grown accustomed to associating with city streets. On the Thursday night we arrived, the sidewalks were still full of young twenty- and thirty-somethings, all dressed up for a night at the local club, bar, or restaurant. There were also the requisite homeless people (largely gathered in the waterfront park at the north end of Pike's Place Market) and gobs of tourists.
We quickly caught sight of what appeared to be a fire dancer, entertaining a crowd on a rooftop deck a block or two away from the water and tracked him down to The Pink Door, an interesting blend of Italian restaurant and cabaret. It turned out that the night's entertainment was a juggler (apparently he juggles fire), but The Pink Door is renowned for its trapeze artists that swing above the diners. The restaurant gave me more of a sense of a circus than a cabaret, but that was probably due to the juggler and the staff member who looked like one of those old-time circus strong men. As a contrast, the bar staff was dressed up in their best Tour de France uniforms.
Michelle and Tom picked us up and dropped us off at the Green Tortoise Hostel. It was incredibly nice of them to chauffer us around, but I'm afraid I was so out of it that I didn't thank them a quarter as much as they deserved. Especially considering that Tom had been in Seattle for six weeks and was going to spend his first weekend off listening to our inane prattle and trying to ignore our silly suggestions (such as donning a tea cozy a la Dobby in the Harry Potter series or stopping at the Kwik E Mart so we could investigate whether or not Apu was working behind the counter).
My body had not yet adjusted to the vigors of the Northwest coast so I was also beginning a low level sinus infection that weekend. Boy, was I ever LAME. (Although not quite as lame as the kid who sat diagonally from us on the train for the five hour ride from Portland to Seattle. When we were getting off the train, he was regaling his seat partner about an invention of his that would suck all the oxygen out of the earth's atmosphere. All he said he needed was about $10 million in government funding. Yes, he was totally serious. And no, I don't think he knew the guy sitting next to him. But the seats on the train were assigned and that poor guy just couldn't get away – he was assigned to the window seat.)
Our first night in Seattle offered us all the comparison we needed to differentiate it from Portland. I've been told that Portland is exactly like Seattle was about 10-15 years ago but it is hard to imagine that much transformation in so little a period of time. Portland is extremely quiet. Most of the stores and cafes close down by 6PM every night. There were never a lot of people out on the streets, whether it was a Saturday night or a Tuesday morning, and, unless you staid downtown, many of the storefronts were vacant. Although I am willing to concede that we may have missed some of the more vibrant corners of Portland, none of these descriptions even begin to apply to Seattle.
Seattle is far more cosmopolitan. The streets pulsed with the bustle and movement of people, something I've grown accustomed to associating with city streets. On the Thursday night we arrived, the sidewalks were still full of young twenty- and thirty-somethings, all dressed up for a night at the local club, bar, or restaurant. There were also the requisite homeless people (largely gathered in the waterfront park at the north end of Pike's Place Market) and gobs of tourists.We quickly caught sight of what appeared to be a fire dancer, entertaining a crowd on a rooftop deck a block or two away from the water and tracked him down to The Pink Door, an interesting blend of Italian restaurant and cabaret. It turned out that the night's entertainment was a juggler (apparently he juggles fire), but The Pink Door is renowned for its trapeze artists that swing above the diners. The restaurant gave me more of a sense of a circus than a cabaret, but that was probably due to the juggler and the staff member who looked like one of those old-time circus strong men. As a contrast, the bar staff was dressed up in their best Tour de France uniforms.
Martha and I ordered some tea and coffee to help us stay awake long enough to enjoy our first few hours in Washington. Two seats down the juggler kept at his whiskey, occasionally moving to another part of the restaurant or deck to perform.
Eventually we wandered back to the hostel, window-shopping all the way. We saw a good number of the Pigs on Parade during our travels and probably dreamed sweet dreams of happy cow-pigs or bumble-pigs or even bronze pigs…
Our Friday in Seattle was actually spent in Snoqualmie and North Bend, WA. After rudely awakening Michelle (and probably Tom), we drove out to the Salish Lodge for breakfast. The food was quite filling and totally necessary for the day we had planned. I ate the Railroad Avenue; Martha, who was apparently on a eat-anything-that-looks-like-oats diet all week, got the Bircher-Brenner Muësli; and Michelle got the Dungeness Crab Almaviva. If I remember correctly, I did eat off of everyone's plate and therefore can fully recommend the Lodge to any passersby who are looking for a good meal. It's a bit pricey, but you can easily fill up your hollow leg with the size of their meals.
To keep from falling into a sweet, sweet nap, we went on a quick, one-mile hike across the street from the Lodge. We sort of pretended it was a warm-up for what lay ahead. Although what lay ahead did not have quite so many banana slugs.
The big event of the day was our 8-mile roundtrip Mount Si hike, also known as Twin Peaks as per that 1990s television show. I can't even begin to tell you how exhausting that was. Martha claimed to be really slow so we let her lead us up. But by "lead us up," I mean that she sprinted up, leaving me to slowly amble my gasping way to the top. I brought up the rear with such panache.
The hike was beautiful, of course. At the top, we experienced clear skies and an excellent view of Mount Rainier along with other mountains in the Cascades. We even glimpsed a forbidden-city-in-the-sky view of downtown Seattle. But mostly, we congratulated ourselves on surviving the hike and celebrated with a round of dried fruit.
Eventually we wandered back to the hostel, window-shopping all the way. We saw a good number of the Pigs on Parade during our travels and probably dreamed sweet dreams of happy cow-pigs or bumble-pigs or even bronze pigs…Our Friday in Seattle was actually spent in Snoqualmie and North Bend, WA. After rudely awakening Michelle (and probably Tom), we drove out to the Salish Lodge for breakfast. The food was quite filling and totally necessary for the day we had planned. I ate the Railroad Avenue; Martha, who was apparently on a eat-anything-that-looks-like-oats diet all week, got the Bircher-Brenner Muësli; and Michelle got the Dungeness Crab Almaviva. If I remember correctly, I did eat off of everyone's plate and therefore can fully recommend the Lodge to any passersby who are looking for a good meal. It's a bit pricey, but you can easily fill up your hollow leg with the size of their meals.
To keep from falling into a sweet, sweet nap, we went on a quick, one-mile hike across the street from the Lodge. We sort of pretended it was a warm-up for what lay ahead. Although what lay ahead did not have quite so many banana slugs.
The big event of the day was our 8-mile roundtrip Mount Si hike, also known as Twin Peaks as per that 1990s television show. I can't even begin to tell you how exhausting that was. Martha claimed to be really slow so we let her lead us up. But by "lead us up," I mean that she sprinted up, leaving me to slowly amble my gasping way to the top. I brought up the rear with such panache.The hike was beautiful, of course. At the top, we experienced clear skies and an excellent view of Mount Rainier along with other mountains in the Cascades. We even glimpsed a forbidden-city-in-the-sky view of downtown Seattle. But mostly, we congratulated ourselves on surviving the hike and celebrated with a round of dried fruit.
The trek back was long, painful, and led by a nearly sprinting Michelle. Guess who lagged behind...again? That would be me, the sole reason it took us five hours from start to finish. If Martha or Michelle had their way - i.e. kept their pace - it probably would only have taken three and a half hours.
Our victory dinner was at Twede's, also apparently made famous by Twin Peaks. It was the only time all week that I saw Martha do anything so unhealthy - she ate a burger AND a sundae!
Saturday was spent mostly wandering around. Other than the Market, I can't tell you all the 
places I've been! Tom chauffered us everywhere (including the flagship REI which, incidentally, has a little coffee cart set up outside where you can get the most amazing Toffeefay ever!) like the good little boyfriend of Michelle's that he is. I hardly knew where we were half of the time.
places I've been! Tom chauffered us everywhere (including the flagship REI which, incidentally, has a little coffee cart set up outside where you can get the most amazing Toffeefay ever!) like the good little boyfriend of Michelle's that he is. I hardly knew where we were half of the time.Before I knew it, Sunday arrived and our last moments together were spent at the Crumpet Shoppe, Martha chowing down on her groats and me scarfing all the crumpets I could find...
On stalking Martha...
As many of you already know, I vacationed in the Northwest in July. I flew to Portland, Oregon to experience an increasingly rare thing: time with Martha. For those of you who don't know who Martha is, the explanation is simple: Martha was one of my famed roommates from the University of Pennsylvania and, more importantly, one of my closest friends. After obtaining her undergraduate degree in Spanish from Penn and her masters in Spanish from UVA, she is going to attend the University of St. Louis for her second bachelors degree: a BSN. However, it's not really St. Louis she's after; she will spend the next two years in Madrid, working towards her nursing degree at St. Louis University's sister school. When she completes her schooling, she will be licensed to practice in both the U.S. and the E.U.
With all these accomplishments under her belt, it's really no wonder why I would stalk Martha to the far Northwest reaches of the States. Since she was traveling to Portland for an oncology massage class, it made perfect sense for me to climb into her suitcase and travel with her. (Boy, was she ever surprised to see that, instead of clothes, she had only packed me! Talk about taking stalking to a whole new level!!!)
Anyway, I was on the ground in Portland for about six days and six nights. My first night in the city gave me an awful first impression that thankfully did not hold true for the rest of my stay. I arrived at my hostel to discover that they had mistakenly booked me for Saturday night instead of Friday night. As it was already late at night, I booked at the hotel where Martha and I would be staying for the rest of the week for an ungodly rate. The cab driver thought I took the upset quite well (surprisingly well, one could say) so you'll have to take his word on the matter. I managed to smile and partake of pleasant conversation even while being royally screwed. I think they call that "poise" in the pageant circuit.
The next morning did not start any better when I realized that they had canceled Martha's week-long reservation when they booked my room the night before. It took some work, and a little bit of Martha's happiness, but in the end, things got sorted out.
Most of the week was spent as an individual tourist, as Martha's class lasted from about 9AM to 5PM every day. My days were spent in pursuit of all things uniquely Portland, while my nights were spent hanging out with Martha and experiencing the culinary delights of this foodies' haven.
If you ever make it out to Portland, here is a nice convenient list of my impressions, recommendations, suggestions, and thoughts, served up Andrew-style (aka in numbered format):
1. Places worth the visit: International Rose Test Garden; Japanese Garden; Colombia River Gorge (even if, like me, you manage to accidentally delete all your pictures); Pioneer Square (just randomly visit at different times of day to see what the city's residents are up to – I managed to catch a transvestite show one day); Saturday Market; Powell's bookstore (basically, heaven on earth for the literate); Chinese Garden. 
2. Places not so worth the visit: Marquam State Park; the OHSU air tram; walking along the waterfront; getting a pedicure at Spa Sasse (can I say "Ow!"??? The pedicurist tried to treat my toes like a wishbone! Not relaxing at all…); every single coffee shop and café that closed their doors by 6PM.
3. Dining experiences that make Portland a culinary destination: Mother's Bistro (my all-time favorite); Half and Half; Sin Ju; Fratelli; Tea Chai Te; Pazzo's; and Mio Gelato. I am convinced there are more, but there was only so much I could eat in six days! (And, seeing as I spent at least one meal a day at Mom's (read: Mother's Bistro), there weren't a lot of places I tried.)
4. Dining experiences to avoid: even though we only tried dessert and coffee here, Martha refused to drink both the tea and coffee she ordered. My profiterole was only middling. This does not bode well for such an expensive place, supposedly renowned for its quality Northwest cuisine. The Heathman Bar and Restaurant wins the Tastes Like Butt award.
5. Random commentary: If at all possible, do not walk around Chinatown or Skidmore. The only reason to be in either of these places is to see the Chinese Garden or to experience the jeering and come-ons of homeless people. Although, if you are with Martha, it IS worth it. Then you get to watch as the jet-propulsion engine that is apparently stowed in her butt comes to life and she zooms across the street and down the block before you can say, "Scary homeless person!"
6. Totally necessary comment on the weather: The weather in July is absolutely exquisite. There really is no other word for it. Temperatures top out in the mid-eighties, but there is no humidity and you can comfortably wear a long-sleeve shirt all day. I returned home to 100+ degree weather, where the air had a viscous quality to it and immediately began planning my life out in the Northwest. If there is any weather condition that makes life unbearable, it's humidity.
7. The people: two things about Portland's population immediately jump out at you. First, there is a disproportionate amount of homeless people on the streets. The appeal of Portland is its temperate weather and the number of services it offers the poor and homeless. The city therefore attracts a lot of young runaways and older homeless people. Since there aren't a lot of people out on the streets at any given time of day, the homeless population becomes quite conspicuous. The second generalization about Portland's people that I could make very easily is that the city appears to attract a lot of society's outsiders. There are a significant amount of goth kids, heavily tattooed and pierced people, and grunge kids loitering about the streets. You leave the city with the impression that much of the rebellious fads pursued by teens in the 1990s never quite died out with the new millennium. A little less obvious, but still quite prevalent is the attitude of the people of Portland. They can be very Southern. By that I mean that asking a simple yes or no question will never give you a simple yes or no answer. Northwesterners are more likely to give you their life story before even getting around to your question. So be prepared for incredibly friendly people to chat, and chat, and chat, and…
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
If anything could burn in hell, Comcast would
I have five reasons to loathe Comcast now:
1) Their low-wage customer service employee processed the wrong work order and sent the wrong guy to the condo for the first appointment;
2) The second Comcast service dude did not show up;
3) The third Comcast service dude did not show up;
4) The only thing Comcast could do to make up to us for all this crappy service was to offer us a $40 credit on our bill, despite the fact that we cut out of work for at least a combined eight hours. My time off of work is worth well over $40;
5) The fourth Comcast service dude did show up, but called Anthony’s cell phone to be let inside. Anthony was in Ghana. Needless to say, he did not answer. So I cut out of work early yet again for no reason. And then I called to complain and they told me they could not help me because I am not an authorized user of the account.
My loathing of Comcast is growing in leaps and bounds.
And what, pray tell, do I want them to do? Anthony and I paid a contractor to build a nice flat wall in our condo just so we could hook up our t.v. and other electronics right there. So we need a cable wall plate installed. That’s it. I would imagine it might take someone two hours to finish said job, if s/he were to patch up all the holes in the wall that would be needed to move the wires. Yet Comcast insists on two visits – the first to conduct a survey of the work needed to be done, and the second to actually do it. And we can’t even get the surveyor to appear.
Grumble, grumble.
1) Their low-wage customer service employee processed the wrong work order and sent the wrong guy to the condo for the first appointment;
2) The second Comcast service dude did not show up;
3) The third Comcast service dude did not show up;
4) The only thing Comcast could do to make up to us for all this crappy service was to offer us a $40 credit on our bill, despite the fact that we cut out of work for at least a combined eight hours. My time off of work is worth well over $40;
5) The fourth Comcast service dude did show up, but called Anthony’s cell phone to be let inside. Anthony was in Ghana. Needless to say, he did not answer. So I cut out of work early yet again for no reason. And then I called to complain and they told me they could not help me because I am not an authorized user of the account.
My loathing of Comcast is growing in leaps and bounds.
And what, pray tell, do I want them to do? Anthony and I paid a contractor to build a nice flat wall in our condo just so we could hook up our t.v. and other electronics right there. So we need a cable wall plate installed. That’s it. I would imagine it might take someone two hours to finish said job, if s/he were to patch up all the holes in the wall that would be needed to move the wires. Yet Comcast insists on two visits – the first to conduct a survey of the work needed to be done, and the second to actually do it. And we can’t even get the surveyor to appear.
Grumble, grumble.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Things that annoy me
Have I ever told you about Ben’s “bitch list?” Back in my undergraduate years, personal webpages were pretty popular and Ben made one to list his general grievances of the world at large. He listed really annoying things such as the speedbumps in his Bethesda neighborhood. They really tend to slow you down from that 90mph you’re trying to achieve.
Well, I have a few problems lately here in DC and I always find that it’s better to get them out than to keep them in. “Better out than in,” I was told recently.
So, without further ado, here is my very own, miniaturized “bitch list:”
○ DC cab drivers. Hands down, no contest, DC cab drivers are the most likely thing to give me a raging ulcer.
○ General DC attitudes. The veneer of politeness that just barely conceals the utter loathing the general DC public has for you is a load of crap. At least in NYC, if a random person on the street doesn’t like you or something you’ve done, they let you know in no uncertain terms. You always know where you stand. In DC, it’s a completely different political landscape.
○ DC food. What is with this place? Everyone keeps telling me that DC has a fine tradition of a wonderful variety of dining experiences. Yet I haven’t been to more than one place (Marcel’s; and we can’t go that often because they charge an arm and a leg and your firstborn for a meal) that makes me want to come back on a regular basis. Most of the restaurants here are more focused on the environment instead of the food (which clearly should always be the top priority). At least in Philly, there were a lot of quality options that didn’t break the bank. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked about the food trucks, or the Royal, or Sabrina’s, or Monk’s… Dammit, where has all the good food in DC gone? (Of course, if you have suggestions, I’m all ears…)
Now that I sound like I hate living in the District, I should probably point out some of the really cool things about the city:
○ The amount of green space. I love the fact that we have a huge park slam-bang in the middle of the city. And I like it much more than Central Park in NYC because there are far fewer people in it; it feels more like nature.
○ My condo. More importantly, my condo’s parking space. This is the equivalent of having my old NYPD parking permit in NYC. It just kicks ass!
○ The museums. Granted, I hardly ever go to museums because I have this (teeny, tiny) problem of becoming extremely bored when forced to appreciate art or history as a totally passive bystander – BUT, just knowing they are there at my disposal makes me a happy chica. And one of these days, I will see one of ‘em.
○ The National Zoo. Yeah, they haven’t always had a stellar reputation for their animal care, but they are working on it. And I love the animals. And the fact that it’s free. In fact, that applies to the museums as well. You can spend a lot of time in this city, reaping the awards of culture and not spending a dime. (Even Kennedy Center performances are free – they have daily live shows in one of the halls that are absolutely free.)
○ My friends. In fact, to make me sublimely happy, the few of you who are not here at this very second merely have to move. (Yeah, that means you.)
○ The Metro. I’m not going to lie – it could be a LOT better. But it does a tap dance on the dead corpse that is LA’s public transportation system and is the cleanest system I have ever seen in a major metropolitan area. And, unlike London’s tube system, DC’s Metro has air conditioning in the summertime. What a novel concept.
○ Dr. Rhea (now Elliott). She is the coolest vet EVER. I was just at the Dupont Vet Clinic yesterday so I may still be basking in the glow that is coming from the fact that Pookie’s urine is now completely crystal-free.
○ Furry children. The fact that this is where I got my kids should also be part of this “pro” list. Grace came to us through the hard work of HART and Pookie was originally fostered through the Feline Foundation.
Well, I have a few problems lately here in DC and I always find that it’s better to get them out than to keep them in. “Better out than in,” I was told recently.
So, without further ado, here is my very own, miniaturized “bitch list:”
○ DC cab drivers. Hands down, no contest, DC cab drivers are the most likely thing to give me a raging ulcer.
○ General DC attitudes. The veneer of politeness that just barely conceals the utter loathing the general DC public has for you is a load of crap. At least in NYC, if a random person on the street doesn’t like you or something you’ve done, they let you know in no uncertain terms. You always know where you stand. In DC, it’s a completely different political landscape.
○ DC food. What is with this place? Everyone keeps telling me that DC has a fine tradition of a wonderful variety of dining experiences. Yet I haven’t been to more than one place (Marcel’s; and we can’t go that often because they charge an arm and a leg and your firstborn for a meal) that makes me want to come back on a regular basis. Most of the restaurants here are more focused on the environment instead of the food (which clearly should always be the top priority). At least in Philly, there were a lot of quality options that didn’t break the bank. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked about the food trucks, or the Royal, or Sabrina’s, or Monk’s… Dammit, where has all the good food in DC gone? (Of course, if you have suggestions, I’m all ears…)
Now that I sound like I hate living in the District, I should probably point out some of the really cool things about the city:
○ The amount of green space. I love the fact that we have a huge park slam-bang in the middle of the city. And I like it much more than Central Park in NYC because there are far fewer people in it; it feels more like nature.
○ My condo. More importantly, my condo’s parking space. This is the equivalent of having my old NYPD parking permit in NYC. It just kicks ass!
○ The museums. Granted, I hardly ever go to museums because I have this (teeny, tiny) problem of becoming extremely bored when forced to appreciate art or history as a totally passive bystander – BUT, just knowing they are there at my disposal makes me a happy chica. And one of these days, I will see one of ‘em.
○ The National Zoo. Yeah, they haven’t always had a stellar reputation for their animal care, but they are working on it. And I love the animals. And the fact that it’s free. In fact, that applies to the museums as well. You can spend a lot of time in this city, reaping the awards of culture and not spending a dime. (Even Kennedy Center performances are free – they have daily live shows in one of the halls that are absolutely free.)
○ My friends. In fact, to make me sublimely happy, the few of you who are not here at this very second merely have to move. (Yeah, that means you.)
○ The Metro. I’m not going to lie – it could be a LOT better. But it does a tap dance on the dead corpse that is LA’s public transportation system and is the cleanest system I have ever seen in a major metropolitan area. And, unlike London’s tube system, DC’s Metro has air conditioning in the summertime. What a novel concept.
○ Dr. Rhea (now Elliott). She is the coolest vet EVER. I was just at the Dupont Vet Clinic yesterday so I may still be basking in the glow that is coming from the fact that Pookie’s urine is now completely crystal-free.
○ Furry children. The fact that this is where I got my kids should also be part of this “pro” list. Grace came to us through the hard work of HART and Pookie was originally fostered through the Feline Foundation.
Closet, what closet?
Yesterday was the last day of the living room doubling as a construction zone. That nearly useless coat closet that used to reside there has now gone into hiding…behind a big, beautiful wall!
We couldn’t quite undertake the home improvement project we wanted to (which involved installing a pocket door to the bathroom) because there was a large concrete support hidden in the wall where we wanted to work, but the end result is pretty sweet. I could have lived without the massive amounts of drywall dust that settled everywhere throughout the condo (apparently so fine that it can fit through key holes and such), but I am quite pleased with the wall that resulted.
I can now get to work on convincing my cable company to install a cable outlet in the wall and on getting a flooring contractor out to install wood flooring throughout. Someday, this place will be fit for living!
And then we’ll move, of course…
We couldn’t quite undertake the home improvement project we wanted to (which involved installing a pocket door to the bathroom) because there was a large concrete support hidden in the wall where we wanted to work, but the end result is pretty sweet. I could have lived without the massive amounts of drywall dust that settled everywhere throughout the condo (apparently so fine that it can fit through key holes and such), but I am quite pleased with the wall that resulted.
I can now get to work on convincing my cable company to install a cable outlet in the wall and on getting a flooring contractor out to install wood flooring throughout. Someday, this place will be fit for living!
And then we’ll move, of course…
Thursday, June 28, 2007
How not to spend your summer vacation
These past two days were the hottest, most humid days of the year so far. Clearly, it was the perfect time for my heat pump to stop functioning. On Tuesday morning, my air conditioning just stopped. Just like that. No workie-workie.
Forty-eight hours later, with most of the humidity down to an acceptable level, our HVAC guy is able to fix the problem. The bonus was that he also installed our new thermostat. Double bonus: he only charged us for one hour of labor, instead of the three hours that he could have. Triple bonus: my thermostat cost me $40 at Home Depot, which I thought was expensive until the HVAC guy told me that for the same exact model his company would have charged me $210. Quadruple bonus: I now have a functioning air conditioner.
Yay me!
Forty-eight hours later, with most of the humidity down to an acceptable level, our HVAC guy is able to fix the problem. The bonus was that he also installed our new thermostat. Double bonus: he only charged us for one hour of labor, instead of the three hours that he could have. Triple bonus: my thermostat cost me $40 at Home Depot, which I thought was expensive until the HVAC guy told me that for the same exact model his company would have charged me $210. Quadruple bonus: I now have a functioning air conditioner.
Yay me!
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