Our tenant “Wheelie”

Ok, so it’s not entirely PC but we have a rugged, unkempt tenant who gets around in a wheelchair. So we call him “Wheelie.” Before you start bashing me, I fully believe Wheelie’s condition is his own fault. He’s extremely over-weight and his legs cannot support his massive body. He’s on disability so the county pays his rent. He’s also dumber than dog shit and lazy as can be.

Anyway, Wheelie is in the habit of calling us for every little goddamn issue that comes up. He’ll call to replace a lightbulb. He’ll call for a missing screw in the mailbox. He’ll call for people loitering in front of his house. You see my point? He’s the worst kind of annoying tenant.

Well, last week the fire alarm on the top floor starts to go off. Wheelie lives below it. The top apartment is empty. My husband has been prepping it for a new tenant. Wheelie knows the apartment is empty and realizes the alarm isn’t going off anytime soon. So rather than call my husband (who is literally 5 minutes away) Wheelie calls 911 (who responds 20 minutes later).

The fire department shows up and since no one is answering the door (well, duh it is vacant), they bash in the solid metal door. The impact is so alarming the frame of the door splits. They go in, replace the battery of the fire alarm, and leave. No one bothers to call my husband to report the incident – not the fire department, not Wheelie. How lovely.

My husband shows up at the apartment the very next day, ready to show it to a potential tenant. To his dismay the door is wide open and off the hindges! You can imagine what a selling point THAT was to the potential client. He walks downstairs and asks Wheelie if he knows anything about it. Wheelie states that he didn’t know what to do when the alarm went off so he called 911. My husband was livid! What a freaking idiot! He calls for the dumbest damn shit but when something involves trashing the apartment building he does nothing.

Needless to say the damage to the door was extensive and the entire thing needed to be replaced. Twelve hours and a few hundred bucks later , there was a new door. My husband is taking the money out of Wheelie’s security deposit under the condition called “stupidity.”

Why did we ever buy these units?

My Daughter the Poet

My daughter is five years old and goes to kindergarten. For her first homework assignment she was to collect leaves from our yard and take them into class. The idea is to identify the different shapes and sizes and other properties of the leaf.

Now I have two trees in my yard. One is where my dog is buried, so we planted a dogwood tree. The other is where my cat is buried so, obviously, we planted a pussy willow tree.

I tried to explain to my daughter the names of the trees in case her teacher asked her to get up and give a little presentation to the class. I wanted her to sound prepared and intelligent. I’m a good mom, right? I’m trying to prepare my little girl for a public speaking future.

My plan did not go quite as well as I crafted. Anyhow, she seemed to merge the two tree names into one.  When she presented her leaves to the class she proceeded to explain that they were “Pussy Woods.” It’s every man’s dream to have a whole forest of Pussy Woods, I bet. And now I know where the term “she was stiff as a board” came from. It must be the Pussy Wood Tree!

Anyway, I about wet my pants when she told me that story. I hope you enjoy it as well.

What I Did for Fun Over Labor Day

Ok, so we know I know how to have a rip roaring good time up here in the boonies. But this weekend was the end all, be all, weekend of fun. I built a CORNICE BOX! Can you stand it? Omigod. What a wild woman I am. For those who are not addicted to HGTV like me, a cornice box goes at the top of a window or panel of windows and adds elegance to the room.

I simply had to have one. And since my husband is frugal at times, we decided to build one! I downloaded samples, material lists, and instructions from various sites. We loaded up the family truckster and headed out to Home Depot and Wal-Mart! Yeehaw.

We got the supplies and 5 hours later had a finished project. I felt a little bad about it because I told my husband it would only take 30 minutes. Ok, so I fibbed a little. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise.

Here is the finished product. I think it is rather glamorous. Don’t you agree?

How I Spent My Labor Day...

My Dog Thinks She is Human

I have a pitbull, who is ironically named “Angel” (the kids named her; not me). I love her to death, but she thinks she is human and it gets annoying sometimes. She allows my daughter to dress her like a baby and eat from a bottle. She gets so excited when she sees the bottle. She also loves to have her “hair” done. My daughter puts hair ties on her ears and she just sits there. Weirdo.

She is obsessed with scrunchies. I wrap my hair up in a scrunchy to go to bed every night. I also wear one if I am doing Taebo. If she notices the scrunchy she will pounce on me and rip it out. It never fails.

She showers with me. She has severe separation anxiety that she can’t even stand to be away from me when I shower. So I stand in the shower and she sits in the corner and gets drenched. She also sits on the ledge when anyone takes a bath. She enjoys popping the bubbles.

Speaking of bubbles, she enjoys red wine and beer. If I set down a glass I have to keep my eye on it or she makes a bee line for it and licks the rim. Gross! She may be fond of my backwash but I do not reciprocate those feelings.

My husband rarely sleeps in our bed. The pitbull has taken over. She sleeps in his spot, under the covers, with her head on a pillow. See for yourself:

Who Needs a Husband When You Have a Puppy - ha ha

Too much to drink, little girl?

 

What can I say? My dog is a nut. I wouldn’t have it any other way.