I didn't lose my cool the other day when I ordered my front door over the phone and the girl didn't think the card was going through, so she kept putting the numbers in. Six times. My bank told me that it would probably take a couple of weeks to get the money back into my account. But I stayed calm, even when the girl called back to tell me that they actually didn't have the door in stock but would upgrade me...to some hideously ornate door. I thanked her politely and asked if she could find my door (the one I had just paid for six times, mind you) at another store, since my contractor really needed to pick it up immediately. I didn't raise my voice when she called me back in a few minutes to tell me she'd found the door and had arranged to have it transferred to her store and that it would be there in 2 or 3 days. I didn't even make a fuss when I found out that the store she was getting it from was only a 10-minute drive down the freeway from her store.
But the war zone that is my back yard is starting to make me a little crazy. A relatively small pile was supposed to be hauled off last week, but there was a change of plans. In the meantime, more debris from the roofing job has accumulated, and every time I look at my back yard, I feel myself getting a little closer to the edge. The new cedar fence is my only consolation right now.
One trailer is already loaded for a trip to the dump, and my contractor is here today with a second trailer, so I know it's going to be cleaned up. In the meantime, it's probably better if I just avoid the kitchen window.
|The mess that is my back yard|
|I try to look at the new fence and not the piles of lumber and concrete.|