DEMO-DEMON - THE HANDIMAN FROM HELL

     Together with my brilliant, talented, designer/decorator friend, whose taste is impeccable, I made my renovation plans and asked around for contractors and workers to do the job.  I thought myself lucky when a builder friend loaned me his demo man who promised to dig out tiles, rip up carpeting, scrape ceilings, break into dry wall and other such noisy messy undertakings in a day and a half, over the weekend, at a price I couldn’t refuse.   

     Do I need to tell you what happened next?  Sneaking out to do other jobs, disappearing for hours, not answering his phone, leaving early, fixing his truck, and telling me his back hurts.  Three days later we’re about half done, and there was a big pile of debris that needed to be hauled away. 

     At least I learned my lesson at the outset, early in the game, and won’t do that again.  I’m going to hire a proper contractor from A to Z, with references and a bona fide business here in town.  Ok. That was a fast weekend seminar in what not to do in home renovation.   I got it.  It was worth the price.  

NEWS FLASH: The consignment store in Berkeley where I purchased two large book cases, a beautiful  bamboo desk, and the most extraordinary Egyptian Revival chair, which they kindly agreed to hold delivery on until my condo was ready, burned down last night.  According to early reports, it happened in the middle of the night; no one was hurt, but at this point I don’t have great hope that my beautiful, albeit second (or third) hand furniture survived. 

PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM…

     Remember the Christmas party with the singing neighbors who welcomed me to the place where I thought I’d buy a home when I first arrived in Vallejo?  How I’ve longed to be among those gentle folk and become part of that community!  So, imagine my surprise when the day before I received the deed title papers, or whatever you call them, to my condo, I bumped into my future next-door neighbor who invited me to a party in her home the following Saturday.   

     Of course I went, bearing a bottle of Bordeaux, and while I discovered they didn’t sing, they did sit around and talk and laugh, wined and dined, and enjoyed each other’s company.  Everyone told me how much they loved living in that community, how they all knew and looked after each other, and winked when they told me that our group of units were the “best” in the complex, and with the “best” people.   

    They welcomed me warmly, and said they looked forward to my becoming part of the community.  It’s the fulfillment of what I’ve longed for a long time, and what I missed so much in Los Angeles.   They also told me that they gave neighborhood parties from time to time, and got together to celebrate the 4^th. of July, and other holidays.  It wouldn’t surprise me if they sing at Christmas time as well.

BREAKING NEWS:  The Berkeley consignment shop escaped the fire, my furniture has survived.   

HAPPY PASSOVER – HAPPY EASTER – HAPPY RETURNS OF THE TAXES