Snarkling Clean

Snarkling Clean- because you don't have to cuss to make fun of stuff. Two dedicated readers discuss romance novels- from what made us weep with joy to what made us want to poke pencils through our eyeballs.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


First, a big hi to all the visitors and thanks to my regulars who prayed, stuck pins in voodoo landlord dolls, or otherwise sent good juju. I appreciate it. A big thank you to my fellow snarkista who kept you all amused. I owe you, Missie.

We are finally officially moved into this townhouse. The priest just left and is now completely out of holy water, but them's the breaks.

In one way, it was a good move. Since we only went 2 miles away, we moved with a friend's small trailer one room at a time. We don't have to be out of the house until Dec. 6th, but we wanted to move before the cold and the holidays. So, the day before the move we excitedly go in to sign the lease and get the keys. The secretary has the day off. The woman in charge has left to go to the doctor, her son the manager is who knows where and her poor little husband, who is retired and has nothing to do with this business, is answering the phone for her. All questions posed are answered with a shrug and a helpless look.

The lease, though, is filled out, asking for the full month's rent. In spite of the fact that we're moving in on the 15th. Well, he calls desperately all over creation looking for his wife or his son, and finally we get the twelve things changed on the lease that needed to be rewritten.

Ah, the keys! We waited 15 days so they could finish repairs, and we entered our new domicile in happy anticipation. Clean carpet, check; new paint; check...and that's it. At least they threw away the cheetos that someone had left in the kitchen. Our new landlord calls. "Oh, yeah...we couldn't get to everything. We'll send someone over as soon as we can." I was soooo comforted.

One defect I was glad they hadn't touched- the downstairs bath. It's a little half bath, just a stool and a sink with a cabinet underneath. And someone chose dark brown wallpaper. I mean, it's the color of chocolate. Normally I wouldn't mind any reminders of chocolate, but I mean...that particular color in a bathroom? I'm sure you catch my drift. It looks like a cave. Except that there are these tiny beige chevron looking thingies in opposing diagonal lines, which form lots and lots of little bitty diamonds. If you look at it too long, you get mesmerized. So it's a good thing there's a big chunk ripped out of it near the door. If you didn't have that white expanse to stare at, someone could give you subliminal suggestions to moon the President or something. We immediately dubbed it the Hypno-Hershey Bathroom.

"We didn't get the wallpaper changed yet," says Landlord.

"No problem!!! Can I do it?"

So at least I get to choose my own wallpaper. But of course, the back sliding glass door opens just enough to squeeze through because the runner is bent, and the closet doors on the master and my daughter's rooms are stashed behind furniture in the living room because they don't work and are actually really old and use sliding mechanisms from the fifties that they can't get parts for but naturally the repair guy came out, took the doors off and stared at them for an hour and a half while muttering 'Hmmph' to himself and still hasn't been back to put them on. I'm going to tell him forget it. I'll hang curtains or love beads or something.

Then I noticed another sweet little quirk. The kitchen is cute but tiny; the dishwasher opens to the east. The oven opens to the south. Apparently when they replaced the oven with a newer model, they didn't realize the newer ones are deeper. Result? The dishwasher door knocks into the oven. I can't open my dishwasher unless I open the oven first. About this time, I'm thinking I'd better get one great book out of this.

And two showers and a load of laundry later, hubby notices water is absolutely spewing from the sides of the Hypno-Hershey toilet. The previously clean carpet in front of the door is now soaked (and gross) and our lightning quick repair guys must visit us three times before concluding that they need an actual plumber. They at least got the water to spew from the broken access valve in the back. And sitting on our back porch was so pleasant as long as you didn't forget your haz-mat suit. But after the real plumbers ground three feet of tree roots out of the line, it's all good.

What would have made it bearable was snarking and surfing. But no, we had all sorts of phone and DSL issues, too, including putting in a hundred dollar phone jack. He came out, punched a hole in the wall and put a plug in it. A hundred ten dollars for that?

Thanks again, Missie, for helping keep everybody going. Hugs and cyber candy to one and all!


Anonymous Amy said...

Uh, your move sounds absolutely nightmarish! Hope you can work out the issues and make it homey with your love beads! :)

6:30 PM  
Blogger Jolene*Marie said...

Aw, Welcome back Robyn! Sorry to hear about all of the moving troubles! We're moving too, soon. To the apartment above my grandmother's. Now, 6 people and a cat in a tiny apartment is not my idea of fun. But my parents seem gluttons for torture. 5 women and one bathroom, my dad is destined to love nature after this experience...I'm off! :) Hope you get some hugs n chocolate to take away all that moving stress!


7:33 PM  
Blogger Robyn said...

FIVE women and ONE bathroom? Lemme get that priest back. You need the blessing a lot more than I! ;)

9:39 PM  
Blogger Missie said...

I am so glad you are back, I could cry. The blog has been incredibly lame without you. :)

10:53 PM  
Blogger Bernita said...

Had a kitchen like that once, though not as bad. You didn't take a deep breath and open the oven door at the same time was all.
You shall overcome.

5:24 AM  
Blogger Jolene*Marie said...

hehe Robyn, remind me to take a picture of my McDonald's kitchen for you one day soon. haha Whoever's bright idea it was to cover half the walls of our kitchen in red and yellow tiles must be somehow related to Ronald himself. I'm serious. The top of the walls is covered in a hideous orange wall paper littered with ugly lookin flowers of all shapes and sorts, not to mention colors. heh. Though, no one who visits mentions this they just mention the size of the kitchen. What's really going through their mind is "Stop the world, I want to get off!"


PS: Robyn, it's okay that you sent the priest away..My Dad is a pastor, so he's in direct connection with the man upstairs. Though, how this didnt benefit him in a quest for a son, I'll never know!

7:44 AM  
Blogger Robyn said...

Jo, tell your dad to cast the spirit of Hamburglar out of that place!

4:41 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home