The Home Front

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Before I expose yet another degree of my dorkiness, let us revel in some boy booty, shall we?There. Don’t we all feel better now? I thought so.

Back to my dorkitude: my closet organizing spree led to a run to Goodwill this afternoon. Total whee. We packed so much crap in our car, Urban Street Pirate riding in the back seat barely fit; it looked like the Clampetts on the move. We unloaded all of it, busted lamps, unflattering jackets and personal electronics so old they belonged in museum instead of a thrift store. Everything except the collection of curtain rods in various sizes. The guy on the truck eyed them and announced, very firmly, he was obviously accustomed to donors not wanting the crap denied, “Are those curtain rods? We don’t take curtain rods.” I immediately considered denying they were curtain rods, except, you know it’s hard to pass them off as anything else. Plus I thought about all the curtain rods I’ve seen in Goodwill Stores over the years. Barrels of them. Where do those come from? Is there some kind of drapery hardware genesis going on I don’t know about?

I refused to argue and just dragged them back home to shove them in a corner of the garage. And having hauled off a gross ton of household goods and debris, shouldn’t my garage look swept clean? Nope. It looks just the same as it did before I crippled my self digging all this stuff out. I think my neighbors are sneaking castoffs in here behind my back. Bastards.

So the point of digging through our garage is in preparation of our Energy Audit on Tuesday. That is the real level of what a dork I am. Not only are we getting our insulation checked, but I am looking forward to it. I love having someone who nominally knows what they’re talking about examine my house and tell me what to do to keep it from falling down around my ears. If they’re cute, even better, but as long as they have a clip board, I’m all on it.

The nice lady scheduling this warned that it’s so thorough, it would take a couple of hours. Ooh, daddy. Talk to me about my dirty furnace, my clogged ducts, my shameless lack of insulation. And then fix it. No more drafty living room, no more chilly bathrooms, heaven.

6 responses »

  1. My mother used to run around and clean up the house before the maid would arrive just so she would know as to what level of cleanliness is to be expected.

    I didn’t inherit that trait.

    When inspectors snoop around my place I casually forget to warn them about the vicious dogs and the fact that if you touch the refrigerator and the stove at the same time you get electrocuted or that nail that lobotomizes guests, sticking out at the top of the stairs and…

    Like

  2. Energy Audit? Geesh is that what we in wilderness have to look forward to in the future?
    I guess it'll be decades before it makes its way here, however. We're just hearing about those hippy fads of “sushi” and “solar” energy.

    Like

  3. MDP
    Inspectors snooping around your place seem to imply the vice squad hitting the truckstops again. They deserve what they get.

    Jason
    Lave that sushi out in the sun and you'll get all the energy you need.

    Mikey
    It does sound like porn waiting to happen, doesn't it?

    Diane
    Define “good.”

    F Psyche
    where were you when I needed you?

    Like

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