I've been terrible at working hard as of late. It's oppressively hot in Providence, plus super muggy, and I've been getting sucked into sitting on the couch. Add to that the fact that Al Medina, General Contractor and Richard, The Guy Who Hands Me Money were on vacation for the past three weeks, and you get an unmotivated Ryan. I stink.
Things got back to full tilt this weekend. I finished up a lot of little things and the Guy Who Hands Me Money will be coming over today to take a look. Hopefully he'll sign away the last of the money and I will be able to schedule the final inspection (with the terrible city inspectors) for Friday (right before Amanda and I fly to Philadelphia for the weekend).
Here's a sampling of what I did over the weekend:
Glued some trim in the bathroom and fireplace hearth
Caulked a terrible shower enclosure
Cleaned some windows (more time consuming than you think)
There are a ton of little things left to do, but I got a lot of little things done over the weekend, so I'm starting to feel a little better about where the house is. Hopefully it will be inspected a few times this week, and pass. Once inspected, I get to tear down a shower stall and replace it with a tub (long story). Once the tub is finshed, it'll be on the market. Hooray.
Also, great news from Friday: Jeff Doors is done. Really, very great. He finished up his kind of OK work, I didn't yell at him, and he was on his way with some of my money.
On Friday, when I got home from work, he was there, as was his gigantic girlfriend (?). As I am obliged to do, I stopped to chat with the enormous woman while she was in her white Caravan waiting for Jeff to finish packing up. Since it's been so hot, the conversation obviously took a turn for the weather. I explained that the house isn't too bad heat wise, plus we have ceiling fans, so while hot, it could be worse. She then let me know the following, white sweating, possibly panting and leaning halfway out of her car with the door open. I have typed it up as best as I could from memory:
"When I get home after a day with doctors or taking Jeff around town, I usually go straight in the house. It's too hot for being outside this week. It's just awful. When I get home I just lock the doors and strip off all of my clothes. I strip 'em off and try to cool down in bed or something."
Really. She said this to me. Ugh.
In other, less debilitatingly disgusting news, here are a few pictures of some progress.
Amanda, scraping a freshly painted exterior window:
The Master bedroom (also known as "Dan's Bedroom"):
The Master Closet (it's huge):
And lastly, not house related, this great mural:
I drive past it everyday on my way to work. It is just fantastic. Not only is the art style great (terrible) but there are two very peculiar portions of the mural.
Here they are, side by side:
The first one, of the basketball player, first caught my attention when we moved to River Ave, all of those months ago. You cannot tell me that the person who painted it said, "this is not a person squatting, and pooping out a basketball as a gift for an unsuspecting mailman coming to pick up the letters in the adjacent mailbox." I cannot be convinced otherwise.
The other, I just noticed this morning, while snapping these photos. It appears to be an adult man, calling over a running midget in semi-business attire for a warm embrace. This made me laugh for the entire 10 minute ride to work.
The question is: what kind of person is that little one? He looks kind of like a midget, but his proportions aren't midget-esque. His face and hair are much too adult to be a child running to hug his relative/mentor, plus what kid wears a tie? Does he attend a private school, with a dress code? If so, what kind of self respecting private school allows shorts? This isn't a movie set at a boarding school in Leeds, England, so that option is out.
On the other hand, and presuming that the man on the bench is a giant, what adult male wears red shorts with a shirt and tie? Does he work behind a desk, and thus, only have to appear to be dressed professionally from the waist up? Is he a Telemundan news anchor?
On the third hand (that's poor writing), was he in the middle of changing, when the obviously creepy man on the bench somehow caught his attention? If so, why would he tuck the professional looking shirt into his obviously casual shorts? Is he afraid of looking slovenly to his seated friend?
The point is this: think about things before you paint them. If you don't, I will be forced to over-think about them when you've finished. Idiots.