Bill came back from Lowe’s and wasn’t too pleased that I had heated up the kitchen. His solution was to open the oven door to let the heat escape. It old him there was a fan in the oven that cooled off the oven but Bill dismissed that outright. So we heated up the kitchen some more while he “cooled off” the oven.
It wasn’t too long before this quiet hump day turned into something else. My boss called me and asked if I could come into work this evening. Monica, the assistant manager who was scheduled for tonight, has food poisoning. I checked my calendar (like I have a full dance card) and I found that I was free. So I’m going in tonight plus Friday and Saturday on the 7 am to 3 am shift. When I applied for this hotel front desk job I said I was flexible and would be available on short notice for emergencies and to fill in when my co-workers needed time off for vacation or other activities. When I worked at the Hampton Inn in Lionville, PA I was frequently called on to fill in for my co-workers. I don’t mind and in fact like this kind of work schedule. I just don’t want to work full time, five days a week, 50 weeks a year. I like this “fireman” type of job in which I’m called on in emergencies.
After heating up the first floor of the house I retreated to my home office and got caught up on reconciling my bank accounts and paying bills. There are always bills to pay. When I see all the bills for the services that are necessary to keep this small modest household going (without children or pets), I often wonder “How did our ancestors manage?” Plant some corn and can up some vegetables and fruit for the winter and use an outhouse. It always amazes me the high cost of maintaining a basic lifestyle these days. And of course, the bills keep going up while my income goes down. This is called “The Squeeze.” I am so thankful that I have a job that I like and I get paid well.
While I was paying my bills this morning, I heard my Westminster chimes doorbell go “bong, bong.” My neighbor Shannon was at the door. She was with her adorable little baby, Rylie. As I opened my front door I could feel the heat and humidity rush in. Shannon wanted to ask me if we were having trouble with our air conditioner unit. We weren’t. She said hers had conked out and they were quoted $1,600 for repairs. And it make matters even worse, their air conditioner wouldn’t be operative until next week. Her husband works the night shift at the local hospital and sleeps during the day. What we call the “Vampire Shift.” I used to work that shift as a night auditor at the Hampton Inn in PA. I hated it. She said he has to sleep downstairs in his office because it’s too hot in his second floor bedroom. I would think so.
Shannon’s concern was that the houses we live in this development (Ryan Homes) are only four years old. She said some of the other neighbors are having similar problems with their air conditioning units. Thank God we don’t have a problem with ours, yet. She brought up a good point, these air conditioning units should last longer than four years. At our previous house in Pennsylvania, our air conditioning unit was twenty five years old. Something doesn’t seem right here.
We talked for a bit. I told her of my initial problems when I first moved in here and the toilets didn’t flush all the way. I called about it and was told that they were “short flush toilets.” Well, that’s all good and well but I needed the toilets to FLUSH ALL THE WAY. I did get that problem resolved after some back and forth. Since then I’ve had a few minor problems but nothing major like the neighbors on either side of me. My other neighbor had horrendous problems with his heat pump when he first moved in. He was receiving $900 monthly electric bills because his heat pump was running continually. He finally got that resolved and the builder reimbursed him for his electric bills.
So now I'm back at my computer updating my blog before I eat and take a nap prior to going in to face tonight's guests at the hotel. "No we don't have a pool and yes, breakfast does come with the room." I can say this mantra in my sleep.
To quote Mr. Rogers, “Just another day in the neighborhood.”