This is week 77 of The Life of Riley, a weekly post detailing my activities since I ended a thirteen year career as a corporate drone. These posts are usually long, personal, and geared more for my own memory than the reader’s entertainment. This edition was a lost episode that was written later and back-posted just to keep the dates straight.

Sunday (Day 532): Thinking Like I’m Broke

I dragged #1GF! to a furniture store in Natick and to another in Avon in the off chance the we might find some furniture for the new house. We found a couple of things that we liked, but in the end, I wasn’t ready to buy them.

Because #1GF! and I have very different tastes, large household purchases take a lot longer than normal. Having a couple of pieces of furniture actually picked out and not buying them understandably frustrated the living crap out #1GF!. We never fight, but I had to stop her halfway down a staircase to explain to her why I wasn’t ready to buy anything.

Even though I don’t bother looking at the price of gas when pulling into a gas station, I have a tendency to think like I’m broke on nonessential purchases. I delay purchases as long as possible, spend more time than is necessary price checking to get the best deals, and run everything into the ground before buying anything new. And if that isn’t bad enough, I have a lot of trouble finding things that I like well enough to buy. Usually, I find that I can do without. It wasn’t losing everything in a house fire or walking away from a steady income that set up this way of thinking. As far as I know, it’s always been like this.

There’s a story that my father tells me about going to the beach when I was small enough to want ice cream from the ice cream truck, but not big enough to reach the window too well. It was hot and the ice cream truck was jingling its bells at the edge of the sand, so I asked my father if I could have an ice cream. He said that we could, and we made our way across the hot sand.

My father asked me what I wanted and I told him. Instead of buying the ice cream for me, he gave me the dollar. I guess I was confused by the whole thing, and asked if I could do whatever I wanted with the dollar. He laughed and said that I could. I folded up the dollar and took it back to the blanket without the ice cream.

So, when I say that it’s always been like this, I mean it’s always been like this.

With the house going the way that it’s been going, I’ve been concerned that there’s a multi-zero invoice lurking around every corner. Every time we settle down and think we’re finally in the clear, another expensive problem crops up. And with no job, there are no are no excess funds coming in to hedge against too many more zeros. I haven’t been taking all this time off by being thinking rich. I’ve been taking it off by living like I’m poor. And all of that coupled with the state of the economy leads me further down the path of fiscal conservatism.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, #1GF! seemed to understand where I was coming from. I then relented and told her that it’s not really fair of me to drag her into living like she’s poor. We split everything, but she shouldn’t have to live like she’s poor just because I do. She works hard, and there has to be some sort of reward for spending half of your day trapped in a large grey maze chasing cheese.

My reward is not listening to anyone yakking in my ear about having the wrong cover page on my TPS report, and corresponding with all you folks, but people who work all day should get a reward paid out of their wage. If there is no reward for your work, then you’re wasting your time. If you’re wasting you’re time, you’re wasting the only finite resource you have.

I told her that she should buy the furniture if she wanted. It seemed a little crazy to say given the way the house is going, but we work out everything evenly so that we don’t ever argue about money. If she bought a couch, then she’d get half the money back somehow. We’re a team, but we are running completely different plays, so I felt like I needed to stop making her read from my playbook.

We didn’t buy anything, but I think she better understood that I wasn’t intentionally wasting her time by walking through the motions. I was just being cautious.

Monday (Day 533): The Impossible Dryer Vent

I met the dryer guy from the appliance place at the house, and we ran through all the scenarios of how to vent the dryer in our laundry closet. Despite knowing the exact model of the dryer and where the dryer vent would be, the former contractor didn’t bother putting a vent into the wall before at all. The way it was now, if the vent were installed in the back of the dryer, the dryer would be too deep for the closet and the door wouldn’t close. Thanks, guy.

The only solution that I had come up with was bottom venting the dryer, and that’s why the dryer guy was there. He was going to divert the vent on the back of the dryer to go through the bottom. After looking at everything, he recommended against the bottom vent because he said that he’d have to add an extra elbow that would impact the dryer’s ability to get clothes dry.

I called the contractor, who had no input either way on the decision. I was pretty much stuck between the a rock and a hard place with no real guidance. I opted to leave the dryer in tact and try cutting through the back wall to retro-fit a vent. I sent the appliance guy on his way and let the contractor know that we’d need to cut a hole in the wall.

I went home and wrote LOR. In the late afternoon, I headed for my parents’ house to see what sort of awesome tools I was storing there. I couldn’t stand being at the apartment or the house anymore, and I thought the drive might do me some good.

Ten minutes into the drive, I got a call from the contractor asking me to meet him at the house. I told him that I was on the road, but he said it would only take a minute. Because I need this job done, I squeeze myself into other people’s schedules. I told him that I’d be there in five minutes.

I swore and turned the car around. I might not have used an e-brake slide, but the turbo was whistling and rolling it’s eyes at my frustration. I got to the house in record time. And waited. And waited. And after 30 minutes, I called the contractor. He said he was right up the road. Ten minutes later, he showed up. I was not fucking happy.

I was less happy when the contractor cut through the baseboard and found out that the first contractor had OK’d a 220 volt line exactly where we were supposed to install back vent. He also had also allowed pipes to be run in such a way as to stymie any other configurations (like reversing the washer and dryer) that might allow the dryer a place to vent.

The one minute meeting turned into me agreeing to stay to help with cutting a dryer vent into the floor. Hell, I’ll help if it will get things done. The guys left to get more tools, and I waited for them to get back. I called my father and explained that I’d have to come up the next day. He understood.

One of the guys came back to do the work, and I pretty much stood around and watched. My role ended up being pulling a vent through a hole. I was there two and a half hours for a procedure that took ten seconds and required the skill of a fishing weight. Don’t get me wrong: the contractor and crew are nice guys who do a good job, and I was glad to help move the job along in any way I could, but having me at the house for two and a half hours for a two second install reinforced something that I’ve been thinking for a while: there is absolutely no perceived value to my time.

Once the vent was in, the guy thanked me and said he could finish up the rest on his own. I headed home. When #1GF! showed up, we went to the local home store to look for the materials I needed to get the phone and network wiring done. I went to the network aisle and she went to look at mats or something.

When #1GF! arrived in the wiring aisle, she noticed that I had nothing in my hands. She was not psyched about this, but I explained that I wasn’t being picky or thinking like a poor person. The store just didn’t have what I needed. I started to go into detail, but noticed that her eyes were glazing over. I stopped myself mid sentence and assured her that they didn’t have the right parts. I promised to make a special trip to You Do It Electronics the next day to pick up the right stuff, but #1GF! knew that for geeks, going to You Do It only needed more of an excuse than a promise.

Tuesday (Day 534): You Do It, Packing, and Geraldo

I went to the house in the morning to let the floor guys in to do the final coat. I got there a little early, so I spent the time cleaning up and doing some rough measuring of how much wire I’d need for cable, network, and phone. Once the floor people showed up, I headed to my parents to sift through the mysterious cornucopia of tools and awesomeness that I had stored there.

When I pulled into my parents’ driveway, I was practically rubbing my hands together and wondering if everything would all fit in the car. That’s why I was a little surprised to find that there were only three things stored there: a work bench, a spreader, and a table saw. This was not my treasure trove. Like opening our storage space after years away, this felt like Geraldo Rivera opening Al Capone’s vault all over again.

I stayed at my parents’ for a little while before heading out to You Do It Electronics. I’m telling you, You Do It is like heaven in Massachusetts for hands-on geeks. If you’ve never been there, it’s like a Radio Shack if they got rid of their cheap consumer crap and hired an extremely knowledgeable staff. I won’t say that I ask the most remarkably tough questions, but I’ve never had a question that the staff couldn’t instantly answer.

I mean, when was the last time you got to go into a store and discussed whether there was any real world benefit to T-568A over T568B specifications while you were rung up? Most Radio Shack employees would just blankly smile and try to sell you a radio controlled car.

I blew money in there like an short guy in a night club, and on the way home, I realized that I forgot to pick up some low voltage retro-fit jacks. I stopped into the local home megastore to pick up a pack, and couldn’t help checking prices against the things that I had bought at You Do It. I was shocked to find that You Do It’s prices were a buck cheaper per jack. Per jack. Over a home improvement megastore. Despite your size, you lose, home megastore. You looooose!

When I got home, I piled up my bags of geeky goodies in a corner and smiled at them. I was going to give them a little wave, but I didn’t want them to think this was play time. Play time was over. I had to get a few of the less fun things on my list done. I checked into prices for trash service, called for a building inspection, and once I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I started packing the apartment for the move.

#1GF! came home and did her best to contain herself from freaking out over my packing style. When #1GF! packs, she takes things out in a very orderly fashion, and puts each item into a box. If she gets interrupted and has to stop packing, there’s no mess left behind.

When I pack, drawers and cabinets are emptied and the contents are spread over any and every available flat surface. Everything comes out and ends up on the floor. This gives me a good overview of everything and allows me pack boxes Tetris style. The downside is that if I get interrupted, the place looks like a bomb hit it. I create massive disorder to create the most efficient order. #1GF! is willing to give up a little efficiency to keep the disorder in smaller doses. She has her way, I have mine.

In the middle of everything, I got a call from the contractor offering his truck to help us move. It’s not like he’s waiting for a check or anything. He was pretty much done and paid. He was just being nice. And I know how this guy feels about his truck. It’s almost the same way I feel about my nuts: If there is any slight scratch or dent, I want it solved yesterday by a highly trained professional. So, even though we already had a few trucks lined up, I thought it was really nice of him to offer.

Wednesday (Day 535): Unnecessary Frustration

I drove around looking for a moving truck because the stupid moving company web sites listed offices all around the area. What I found out was that the “offices” were merely drop off points. Drop off points aren’t worth shit if you want to rent a truck. After a lot of driving and a mounting sense of frustration, I found that there was only one place to rent a truck around here.

Right before I actually got to the only real truck rental place, I stopped into a local home store to try to pick up blinds for a couple of windows. They didn’t have the size I needed, which just added to my frustration. By the time I met #1GF! in the local home store parking lot, I was really frustrated because I had been going in circles and getting nothing done while the time before we had to move got shorter and shorter. The interaction between us would not be described as jovial and I’m willing to admit that it was entirely my fault.

#1GF! went home to pack and I went across the street to reserve a moving truck. That was the easiest five minutes of the day. On my way home my sister called to tell me that she had a bike accident. She was Ok, but not Ok, and I think it was the craziest biking injury that I’ve ever heard of. The odds are that she’ll be fine, but it made me think that there might be a distinct cloud of bad luck hanging over our family these days.

Thursday (Day 536): The Black Cloud of Luck

I met the building inspector in the morning to get our occupancy permit, and everything went smoothly and quickly. I was cleared for occupancy in fifteen minutes. Even though it seemed a little to quick and easy, I allowed myself to feel relieved.

A little while later, all the parents met at our new house to help us clean it. Everyone worked on the upstairs and I worked on the basement. I can’t tell you how much dirt can accumulate in fifty years of not cleaning your basement, but it took me all day to get a handle on.

I was so dirty that I stayed out of the upstairs completely. I wouldn’t even cross doorways into the upstairs on the off chance that I’d sneeze and soil the surrounding area like an exploding vacuum bag. At the end of the day, I exited the basement out of the bulkhead and asked #1GF! to hand a piece of apple cake and some water out the window to me. This would be the reward I would give myself for cleaning the basement.

I stood out in the cold talking to the parents through the window between bites of apple cake. It was late afternoon, and they were all done cleaning, so they were all getting ready to salvage the rest of their day. They all headed out, and I climbed back down into the basement to continue cleaning.

A few hours later, #1GF! showed up to see if I was done. It was around 8PM, and I had just finished. I was beyond tired. #1GF! walked around closing some of the basement windows that I had left open to get rid of the incredible amount of dust in the air. I cleaned up the last small piles of debris from the floor.

“Hey, can you close this window? I can’t get it closed,” #1GF! asked.

Without looking, I waved her off. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it in a minute.”

“Ok.” She walked back over to me.

“So what time do you think you want to get out of…”
CRASH!

We both stared at each other trying to figure out what had just happened. I walked over to the window that I told #1GF! not to worry about, and a gust of wind had blown it off its hinges and it lay smashed all over the basement floor. The cold New England wind was blowing in through the hole.

“Argh! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You were almost done, and I come in and ruin it in ten seconds.”

She was ready to cry. I was thinking about that giant luck sucking cloud that wouldn’t leave us alone. I told her not to worry about it because it wasn’t her fault. The wind blew the thing open. I was absolutely beat though, and was ready to get myself into an environment that wouldn’t turn my snot black.

I thought, “Don’t blame. Don’t yell. Don’t get pissed. You’re tired. Just be a man and get the problem resolved. Whether you wanted this problem right now or not, you have it. Just get through it so you can get home.”

I told #1GF! not to worry and found some plywood to cover the window with. Unfortunately, the basement only had a broom in it, and brooms can’t cut plywood. We wrapped the screen in trash bags to keep the wind and water out, and then went to the closest home improvement store we could find to buy a hand saw. Luckily, they were still open.

We grabbed a cheap saw and headed back to the house in silence that was only punctuated with apologies and me telling #1GF! not to worry about it. I cut the plywood by leaning it on some old bricks in the basement.

Note to self: Bricks are not sawhorses, and hand saws are complete fucking bullshit. Between the falling bricks and the crooked cuts, it could’ve been a three stooges routine if there was only one stooge, and he closely resembled an insanely dirty homeless person. Once everything was cut, I screwed the plywood in with some drywall screws that I scrounged from the piles of debris that were still waiting to be swept up as if nothing were wrong.

Within an hour, the window was sealed, the glass was swept up, and we were headed back to the apartment. Yes, the house had been habitable for roughly an hour before something got broken. Yes, I’m glad that it was only a basement window. Yes, I wonder what cheap shit windows the last contractor put it that a gust of wind sends them off their hinges and on to the floor. I wish I could say that I was surprised, but I wasn’t. I was too tired to be surprised, which had become a theme on this job.

Friday (Day 537): Pre-Moving

#1GF! had a borrowed truck and I had an SUV, so we spent the day packing and running boxes between the apartment and the house. We eventually had to stop packing because we ran out of boxes. Only then did we take the time to go over to our storage space to see exactly what was in there.

The space was packed to the roof, and both of us found ourselves amazed that there was no end to the amount of crap we have accumulated. I’m probably way to old to say that it was “redonk”, but that’s really the best word to describe the amount of crap we’ve accumulated despite reducing the clutter by moving regularly. It made me wonder what people who don’t move do with all of their crap.

Saturday (Day 538): Moving Into The New House

I picked up a 24 foot truck at 7:30 AM and went to our storage space. I told those gracious folks who offered to help us move to meet us at the storage space at 9, just in case something went wrong with the rental. They were nice enough to help us move, and I didn’t want them sitting around waiting for the truck to show up.

I was waiting for something to go wrong, but everything went smoothly, and I pulled into the storage space parking lot at 8:58 AM. I felt like Mr. Perfect Von Goodtiming. What I didn’t realize was that the clock in the truck was an hour off and it was only 7:58. We had arrived an hour early. Hey, at least we weren’t late.

#1GF! and I started loading the truck, and my dad showed up, then some friends and #1GF!’s family. I didn’t pack the truck half as well as I should’ve, but we had it loaded quickly and were at the apartment and packed up in another couple of hours. We ended up filling a 24′ truck and a bunch of pickups even though we made runs the whole day before. We had a lot of stuff.

I didn’t hit anything with the truck (despite backing up a couple of hundred feet) and the only victim of the move was a spare printer that hadn’t been used in years. By 2 PM, everything was moved and #1GF! went out to get the typical payment for move help: pizza and beer. We all sat around eating, and everyone was off to enjoy what was left of their day by 3. Once they were gone, #1GF! and I emptied some boxes so that we could take them back to the apartment and fill them up again. We went back for two more pickup runs that day. We have a lot of stuff. Or one of us does.

By the end of the day, #1GF! and I were exhausted. I don’t think that the moving was incredibly difficult, but it had been hectic just about every day and I think that slowly chipped away at us. We made the bed in our new bedroom, shut out the lights, and looked out the window. It was a lot different than being next to a pool area and and listening to the kids partying all night. It was quiet and the lights across the water sparkled in the darkness.

Flash “Did you see that?”
“Wow. Is that the lighthouse?”
Flash
“Oh that’s so cool.”
Flash
Flash
“Um…”
Flash

We are in view of a lighthouse, which is pretty cool… unless you’re laying in a shadeless room and are awake long enough to figure out that it lights up your every ten seconds. If we weren’t so tired, it might have mattered, but as it was, we fell into a fast, deep sleep in our new home.

What I Learned

• Just because I choose to live like I’m broke, that doesn’t mean #1GF! has to.
• It’s questionable whether my original contractor knew that dryers needed to be vented.
• There isn’t a lot of perceived value to my time.
• Adding a ninety degree elbow to a dryer vent shortens the distance that it can be vented by several feet.
• When there is no good way, sometimes you just have to pick a way.
• You Do It Electronics significantly beats the local home megastores for cabling and jacks.
• 50 years of dirt doesn’t clean up easily.
• Fixing the problem instead of spreading the blame is a better use of everyone’s time.
• Most rental truck “offices” are merely drop off points.
• Boston Light revolves every ten seconds with a beam that is visible for 16 miles.

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