| General Non-Fiction posted August 15, 2010 | Chapters: |
1 2 -3- 4... 
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Never doubt that things can get worse
A chapter in the book FAMILY - SHORT STORIES
You're Kidding - Right? Part Two
by Begin Again
Please note that this is the second part of a two-part story. Thank you....
How to scare your friends in two easy lessons.
After my first visit to the old house, I pulled myself together and started to form some kind of a plan in my mind. As I doodled my thoughts on paper, my cell phone started to ring. One family member or friend after another started calling, each distressed over my description of the house. Everyone offered sympathetic words and promised to help with whatever they could. Needless to say, I soon learned that most would be overwhelmed by the renovation and would soon discover their lives were really too busy at the moment.
Most offered to stop by and lend a hand, but few actually did. One or two accepted the challenge and managed a day or two before raising the white flag.
My son, John, ( a true blessing from God), and I spent the first week carrying an accumulation of furniture, broken toys, plaster, and junk, totally slightly more than 6000 pounds, to the dumpster. Enduring 93 degree heat, we sawed, chopped, and weeded until the majority of the yard was cleared. In the end, we were proud of our hard work and satisfied with the results ... until the next day.
The next morning, unable to open my eyes, I soon discovered we'd raised high fives too soon. Both of us were covered with oozy, itchy poison oak. Those hours of sweat and continuous wiping of our faces and body had spread the oils to every crevice. My "Australian Sis" flipped when I e-mailed her a photo of my charming "prize-fighter" eyes. Needless to say, after enduring the looks of other patients in the doctor's office, we were treated with prednisone and told to take it easy until the itching ran its course,
Impossible! I needed to get this house livable. Money was dwindling fast and poison oak wasn't going to derail this train.
My 90-year-old father gathered up his tools and ordered me to bring him to town. In long-gone-by years, he had built and renovated many, many houses. His aging mind told him what needed to be done, but it also forgot it as quickly as he started. In my heart, I knew he truly meant well, but after the first few days, I knew it wasn't going to work. The brand new bathtub had two big chips in it -- mysteriously appeared. The wall for the plumbing was offset by five inches - watering the edge of the tub. Searching for existing plumbing, he now had a huge jagged gap in my flooring - another job added to the ever growing list. By the end of the day, he was tired, frustrated, and suggested we hire someone. I was elated!
However, my balloon would be popped.
My dad called my niece's boyfriend, an out of work carpenter. He agreed and promised to have the job done in a matter of days. Unfortunately, working by the hour, the job stretched from two days to two weeks and only one wall was dry walled. His services were terminated.
Another friend of a friend, unemployed and willing to work, was hired. The first day was exciting. He sanded, painted and appeared to really want to get the job done. The next day, he was tired and sluggish. Sitting in the shade was far more appealing than working. Suddenly, he was gone - without even a goodbye.
My son and I trudged on. John with a little less eagerness than before, but still giving it his best.
On the weekend, my "honey" joined us at the house and started dry walling. I was amazed at how quickly he finished the room and started plastering. At last, I could see us moving forward. My mistake!
Satisfied we'd accomplished a lot, we closed up the house and headed home. Covered with plaster, I let Mike, my one and only, shower first. When he finished, I took one look at his legs and knew we were in trouble. From his knees down, his skin was purple - a dark, almost black purple.
To make a long, ugly story short, the doctors soon discovered he was only getting about 20 to 30 percent blood flow. I'm sure you guessed the results - no work for him.
My parents suggested I call it quits.
Never! I was raised to finish what I'd started, but I was willing to admit it might be a bit much to chew.
On the following Monday, my father sent a handyman ( a licensed plumber-electrician) to help me out. I was ecstatic - until he didn't show up. About three hours later, he called and said his van had broken down. Being an understanding person who'd had my share of vehicle trouble, I commiserated with him and then agreed to see him on Tuesday.
Tuesday came and went. Dave, the plumber, called and said his vehicle had stopped again, and promised to arrive, ready to work, on Wednesday.
On Wednesday, I was thrilled. My trusty plumber arrived and actually started installing some of the water pipes. Unfortunately, a tree had fallen on his mom's property and she needed his help. Now who am I to fault someone for helping their mom when in need. So I encouraged him to go to his mom's assistance. He promised to return the next day.
Removing the tree took longer and Dave didn't return until Friday. At noon, he started packing up his tools and apologized for the short day. Seems as though, he'd made plans with his grown children to travel out-of-town to his father's home to celebrate his birthday. Smiling with gritted teeth, I told him to have a nice week end. He promised to see me early Monday morning.
Hoping for a fresh start, I picked up John early Monday and we headed off to the house. Willing to accept any help available, I nervously let John pick up a paint roller and start to help me paint the front room and dining room. Much to my astonishment, he was very good at wielding the roller, especially since he didn't need to worry about getting paint on the trim or floor. I was amazed.
My special needs son was proving to be my greatest asset. We were both thrilled with our accomplishment, especially since the plumber arrived four hours late. Van trouble, of course.
My usual smiley face must have been sagging a bit, because Dave was extremely apologetic and suggested another friend that was looking for work. Aware of the situation, he told me Dan's work was precise, fast and cheap. The last word really caught my attention - cheap was what I needed.
After a short phone call, it was decided that Dan could start work the next day. I was told he could do anything and everything. Words that were music to my ears.
At the end of the day, John and I had finished two rooms. Maybe the house would be a home again, but it was still a mighty big maybe.
The next morning, my cell phone rang early. I recognized Dave's number and my heart sank. He explained he was borrowing a vehicle and would it be possible for me to pick up Dan. Without thinking, I immediately said yes - anything to get someone working.
Unfortunately, I soon discovered Dan lived in the next town, 20 miles away, but I was willing to make the sacrifice of time and gas to get him. If he was half as good as Dave promised, it would be worth it. Little did I know what my morning would be like.
Arriving at Dan's apartment, I saw a tall, long haired young man (in his late thirties) pacing outside the building. His legs and arms sported numerous tattoos. His yellow sun glasses hid his eyes, but his smile was friendly. He introduced himself and climbed into my car. He was very courteous and thanked me for coming to get him and for the ride. His manner instantly put me at ease. Putting the car in gear, we headed off to work or so I thought.
We'd only traveled two blocks when Dan told me he'd been up for hours, trying to calm down his girlfriend. Supposedly, she was at a friend's house just down the road and for some reason was having a panic attack. He asked if we could possibly pick her up and take her back to Rockford. Just call me Good Samaritan of the Day! Or maybe Sucker would be more like it!
The "just around the corner" turned out to be five miles out a country road. Two police cars were parked in the driveway when we arrived. Dan jumped out and hurried into the house, returning with a back pack that he placed in my trunk. One more trip back to the house and he returned with his arm around a young woman. I soon learned the "young lady" wasn't a lady in anyone's terms.
With cigarette in hand, she started to climb into my car. I politely asked her to put it out because I was allergic to the smoke. She belligerently got out of the car and walked away. Dan shrugged his shoulders and hurried after her. Consoled, she finally settled into the back seat and I pulled away from the house. Unfamiliar with the surroundings, I drove down the road, knowing it was taking us further away from the city as I searched for a crossroad. Seconds later, all hell broke loose.
A stream of vulgarity exploded in my backseat and threats of taking someone's life assaulted my ears. My new passenger was screaming and jumping around the seat while Dan kept trying to calm her down. The next thing I knew she was hanging between the front bucket seats, arms flaying and mouth sputtering swear words that would put any raunchy pirate to shame. To say my blood pressure escalated would be putting it mildly. I couldn't imagine what kind of mess I had gotten myself into and wondered if I would live through it, especially when she kept ranting about her blade.
Luckily, I found a road I recognized and pushed the accelerator to the floor, almost praying I'd be stopped by a patrol car. When the city limits came into view, I felt better. The voice from the back seat decided to take a different tactic and unceremoniously informed me that she knew I was having a "thing" with her man. I almost choked!
I'd had enough and I informed her I was old enough to be his mother and had a man I loved. Insulted, she demanded I stop the car and let her out on the side of the road. One part of me was screaming yes, yes, yes, but the strong side of me continued driving to my house (the one I live in currently).
Nerves shot and needing a bathroom, I parked and said I'd be right back. My passenger insisted she needed to come with me. Absolutely not! No way was that woman coming into my house ... sorry if that offends anyone, but this good Samaritan drew the line.
When I returned to my car, I was stunned. She was standing outside the car, pulling her pants up. It was daylight in the city and you can guess what she was doing!
Moments later, we continued our journey and I soon deposited my unwanted passenger a few blocks from her home. To make a long story short, she had another sugar daddy waiting for her and didn't want to be seen with us. She gathered up her belongings from my trunk, chugged a beer in the parking lot, and strolled down the street.
It was obvious Dan was embarrassed and deeply apologetic. Once at the house, I have never seen anyone work as fast and as accurately as he did. Whether urged on by the morning's events and his awkwardness or just the desire to work, I was extremely pleased with the results. His work truly surpassed any of my expectations. His "girlfriend" on the other hand was more than I ever wanted to see again.
The rest of the week was fruitful. The plumbing was completed, electrical was started, and all the walls were dry walled and plastered. Several more rooms were painted. The house was beginning to look livable.
Oh, I forgot to mention the poison oak. Did you know that even after a plant has been killed with Round Up or any weed killer, you can still get it? I am living proof of that one. I had doused the plants three times with the weed killer and it was brown and shriveled. I decided to remove it and put it in the garbage. A big mistake! The oils remain poisonous for five years on the dead plants ... so I read on the internet too late.
On Saturday, I was excited to show Mike how much progress we had made at the house. We even decided to take time to look for carpet since it wouldn't be too long before it could be installed. At the second store, he started staggering and complaining of being sick. By the time I got him to the truck, I knew we were in trouble. He couldn't stand, he couldn't see, and he was on the verge of passing out. You know where we spent out Saturday night and it wasn't out dancing.
After being admitted to the hospital, they discovered he had an infection somewhere, but they couldn't find it. We were in for a battery of tests and horrible food once again. This must be the worst, right?
Then the unthinkable happened ... as if it hadn't already been happening.
On Monday, my 90 year old father became ill and I had to take him to the hospital. He is suffering from Diverticulitus. At 6:30 A.M. Wednesday, my 90 year old mom was thought to have had a mini stroke and was taken to the hospital. Yesterday, my brother had a stroke and was taken by ambulance to the same hospital. I asked the nurse if we could just start our own wing.
Today, I sat down at my keyboard, wondering what I could write. My phone rang and I instantly thought, 'Come on, what else can go wrong?' I think I need to stop thinking, because the list is just endless.
Tomorrow starts another week as we move closer to finishing the restoration. At times, I have wondered if I will ever reach the end, but at this very moment, after typing this story, I believe if I have survived all this, I can endure anything else. I hope!
Please note that this is the second part of a two-part story. Thank you....
How to scare your friends in two easy lessons.
After my first visit to the old house, I pulled myself together and started to form some kind of a plan in my mind. As I doodled my thoughts on paper, my cell phone started to ring. One family member or friend after another started calling, each distressed over my description of the house. Everyone offered sympathetic words and promised to help with whatever they could. Needless to say, I soon learned that most would be overwhelmed by the renovation and would soon discover their lives were really too busy at the moment.
Most offered to stop by and lend a hand, but few actually did. One or two accepted the challenge and managed a day or two before raising the white flag.
My son, John, ( a true blessing from God), and I spent the first week carrying an accumulation of furniture, broken toys, plaster, and junk, totally slightly more than 6000 pounds, to the dumpster. Enduring 93 degree heat, we sawed, chopped, and weeded until the majority of the yard was cleared. In the end, we were proud of our hard work and satisfied with the results ... until the next day.
The next morning, unable to open my eyes, I soon discovered we'd raised high fives too soon. Both of us were covered with oozy, itchy poison oak. Those hours of sweat and continuous wiping of our faces and body had spread the oils to every crevice. My "Australian Sis" flipped when I e-mailed her a photo of my charming "prize-fighter" eyes. Needless to say, after enduring the looks of other patients in the doctor's office, we were treated with prednisone and told to take it easy until the itching ran its course,
Impossible! I needed to get this house livable. Money was dwindling fast and poison oak wasn't going to derail this train.
My 90-year-old father gathered up his tools and ordered me to bring him to town. In long-gone-by years, he had built and renovated many, many houses. His aging mind told him what needed to be done, but it also forgot it as quickly as he started. In my heart, I knew he truly meant well, but after the first few days, I knew it wasn't going to work. The brand new bathtub had two big chips in it -- mysteriously appeared. The wall for the plumbing was offset by five inches - watering the edge of the tub. Searching for existing plumbing, he now had a huge jagged gap in my flooring - another job added to the ever growing list. By the end of the day, he was tired, frustrated, and suggested we hire someone. I was elated!
However, my balloon would be popped.
My dad called my niece's boyfriend, an out of work carpenter. He agreed and promised to have the job done in a matter of days. Unfortunately, working by the hour, the job stretched from two days to two weeks and only one wall was dry walled. His services were terminated.
Another friend of a friend, unemployed and willing to work, was hired. The first day was exciting. He sanded, painted and appeared to really want to get the job done. The next day, he was tired and sluggish. Sitting in the shade was far more appealing than working. Suddenly, he was gone - without even a goodbye.
My son and I trudged on. John with a little less eagerness than before, but still giving it his best.
On the weekend, my "honey" joined us at the house and started dry walling. I was amazed at how quickly he finished the room and started plastering. At last, I could see us moving forward. My mistake!
Satisfied we'd accomplished a lot, we closed up the house and headed home. Covered with plaster, I let Mike, my one and only, shower first. When he finished, I took one look at his legs and knew we were in trouble. From his knees down, his skin was purple - a dark, almost black purple.
To make a long, ugly story short, the doctors soon discovered he was only getting about 20 to 30 percent blood flow. I'm sure you guessed the results - no work for him.
My parents suggested I call it quits.
Never! I was raised to finish what I'd started, but I was willing to admit it might be a bit much to chew.
On the following Monday, my father sent a handyman ( a licensed plumber-electrician) to help me out. I was ecstatic - until he didn't show up. About three hours later, he called and said his van had broken down. Being an understanding person who'd had my share of vehicle trouble, I commiserated with him and then agreed to see him on Tuesday.
Tuesday came and went. Dave, the plumber, called and said his vehicle had stopped again, and promised to arrive, ready to work, on Wednesday.
On Wednesday, I was thrilled. My trusty plumber arrived and actually started installing some of the water pipes. Unfortunately, a tree had fallen on his mom's property and she needed his help. Now who am I to fault someone for helping their mom when in need. So I encouraged him to go to his mom's assistance. He promised to return the next day.
Removing the tree took longer and Dave didn't return until Friday. At noon, he started packing up his tools and apologized for the short day. Seems as though, he'd made plans with his grown children to travel out-of-town to his father's home to celebrate his birthday. Smiling with gritted teeth, I told him to have a nice week end. He promised to see me early Monday morning.
Hoping for a fresh start, I picked up John early Monday and we headed off to the house. Willing to accept any help available, I nervously let John pick up a paint roller and start to help me paint the front room and dining room. Much to my astonishment, he was very good at wielding the roller, especially since he didn't need to worry about getting paint on the trim or floor. I was amazed.
My special needs son was proving to be my greatest asset. We were both thrilled with our accomplishment, especially since the plumber arrived four hours late. Van trouble, of course.
My usual smiley face must have been sagging a bit, because Dave was extremely apologetic and suggested another friend that was looking for work. Aware of the situation, he told me Dan's work was precise, fast and cheap. The last word really caught my attention - cheap was what I needed.
After a short phone call, it was decided that Dan could start work the next day. I was told he could do anything and everything. Words that were music to my ears.
At the end of the day, John and I had finished two rooms. Maybe the house would be a home again, but it was still a mighty big maybe.
The next morning, my cell phone rang early. I recognized Dave's number and my heart sank. He explained he was borrowing a vehicle and would it be possible for me to pick up Dan. Without thinking, I immediately said yes - anything to get someone working.
Unfortunately, I soon discovered Dan lived in the next town, 20 miles away, but I was willing to make the sacrifice of time and gas to get him. If he was half as good as Dave promised, it would be worth it. Little did I know what my morning would be like.
Arriving at Dan's apartment, I saw a tall, long haired young man (in his late thirties) pacing outside the building. His legs and arms sported numerous tattoos. His yellow sun glasses hid his eyes, but his smile was friendly. He introduced himself and climbed into my car. He was very courteous and thanked me for coming to get him and for the ride. His manner instantly put me at ease. Putting the car in gear, we headed off to work or so I thought.
We'd only traveled two blocks when Dan told me he'd been up for hours, trying to calm down his girlfriend. Supposedly, she was at a friend's house just down the road and for some reason was having a panic attack. He asked if we could possibly pick her up and take her back to Rockford. Just call me Good Samaritan of the Day! Or maybe Sucker would be more like it!
The "just around the corner" turned out to be five miles out a country road. Two police cars were parked in the driveway when we arrived. Dan jumped out and hurried into the house, returning with a back pack that he placed in my trunk. One more trip back to the house and he returned with his arm around a young woman. I soon learned the "young lady" wasn't a lady in anyone's terms.
With cigarette in hand, she started to climb into my car. I politely asked her to put it out because I was allergic to the smoke. She belligerently got out of the car and walked away. Dan shrugged his shoulders and hurried after her. Consoled, she finally settled into the back seat and I pulled away from the house. Unfamiliar with the surroundings, I drove down the road, knowing it was taking us further away from the city as I searched for a crossroad. Seconds later, all hell broke loose.
A stream of vulgarity exploded in my backseat and threats of taking someone's life assaulted my ears. My new passenger was screaming and jumping around the seat while Dan kept trying to calm her down. The next thing I knew she was hanging between the front bucket seats, arms flaying and mouth sputtering swear words that would put any raunchy pirate to shame. To say my blood pressure escalated would be putting it mildly. I couldn't imagine what kind of mess I had gotten myself into and wondered if I would live through it, especially when she kept ranting about her blade.
Luckily, I found a road I recognized and pushed the accelerator to the floor, almost praying I'd be stopped by a patrol car. When the city limits came into view, I felt better. The voice from the back seat decided to take a different tactic and unceremoniously informed me that she knew I was having a "thing" with her man. I almost choked!
I'd had enough and I informed her I was old enough to be his mother and had a man I loved. Insulted, she demanded I stop the car and let her out on the side of the road. One part of me was screaming yes, yes, yes, but the strong side of me continued driving to my house (the one I live in currently).
Nerves shot and needing a bathroom, I parked and said I'd be right back. My passenger insisted she needed to come with me. Absolutely not! No way was that woman coming into my house ... sorry if that offends anyone, but this good Samaritan drew the line.
When I returned to my car, I was stunned. She was standing outside the car, pulling her pants up. It was daylight in the city and you can guess what she was doing!
Moments later, we continued our journey and I soon deposited my unwanted passenger a few blocks from her home. To make a long story short, she had another sugar daddy waiting for her and didn't want to be seen with us. She gathered up her belongings from my trunk, chugged a beer in the parking lot, and strolled down the street.
It was obvious Dan was embarrassed and deeply apologetic. Once at the house, I have never seen anyone work as fast and as accurately as he did. Whether urged on by the morning's events and his awkwardness or just the desire to work, I was extremely pleased with the results. His work truly surpassed any of my expectations. His "girlfriend" on the other hand was more than I ever wanted to see again.
The rest of the week was fruitful. The plumbing was completed, electrical was started, and all the walls were dry walled and plastered. Several more rooms were painted. The house was beginning to look livable.
Oh, I forgot to mention the poison oak. Did you know that even after a plant has been killed with Round Up or any weed killer, you can still get it? I am living proof of that one. I had doused the plants three times with the weed killer and it was brown and shriveled. I decided to remove it and put it in the garbage. A big mistake! The oils remain poisonous for five years on the dead plants ... so I read on the internet too late.
On Saturday, I was excited to show Mike how much progress we had made at the house. We even decided to take time to look for carpet since it wouldn't be too long before it could be installed. At the second store, he started staggering and complaining of being sick. By the time I got him to the truck, I knew we were in trouble. He couldn't stand, he couldn't see, and he was on the verge of passing out. You know where we spent out Saturday night and it wasn't out dancing.
After being admitted to the hospital, they discovered he had an infection somewhere, but they couldn't find it. We were in for a battery of tests and horrible food once again. This must be the worst, right?
Then the unthinkable happened ... as if it hadn't already been happening.
On Monday, my 90 year old father became ill and I had to take him to the hospital. He is suffering from Diverticulitus. At 6:30 A.M. Wednesday, my 90 year old mom was thought to have had a mini stroke and was taken to the hospital. Yesterday, my brother had a stroke and was taken by ambulance to the same hospital. I asked the nurse if we could just start our own wing.
Today, I sat down at my keyboard, wondering what I could write. My phone rang and I instantly thought, 'Come on, what else can go wrong?' I think I need to stop thinking, because the list is just endless.
Tomorrow starts another week as we move closer to finishing the restoration. At times, I have wondered if I will ever reach the end, but at this very moment, after typing this story, I believe if I have survived all this, I can endure anything else. I hope!
How to scare your friends in two easy lessons.
After my first visit to the old house, I pulled myself together and started to form some kind of a plan in my mind. As I doodled my thoughts on paper, my cell phone started to ring. One family member or friend after another started calling, each distressed over my description of the house. Everyone offered sympathetic words and promised to help with whatever they could. Needless to say, I soon learned that most would be overwhelmed by the renovation and would soon discover their lives were really too busy at the moment.
Most offered to stop by and lend a hand, but few actually did. One or two accepted the challenge and managed a day or two before raising the white flag.
My son, John, ( a true blessing from God), and I spent the first week carrying an accumulation of furniture, broken toys, plaster, and junk, totally slightly more than 6000 pounds, to the dumpster. Enduring 93 degree heat, we sawed, chopped, and weeded until the majority of the yard was cleared. In the end, we were proud of our hard work and satisfied with the results ... until the next day.
The next morning, unable to open my eyes, I soon discovered we'd raised high fives too soon. Both of us were covered with oozy, itchy poison oak. Those hours of sweat and continuous wiping of our faces and body had spread the oils to every crevice. My "Australian Sis" flipped when I e-mailed her a photo of my charming "prize-fighter" eyes. Needless to say, after enduring the looks of other patients in the doctor's office, we were treated with prednisone and told to take it easy until the itching ran its course,
Impossible! I needed to get this house livable. Money was dwindling fast and poison oak wasn't going to derail this train.
My 90-year-old father gathered up his tools and ordered me to bring him to town. In long-gone-by years, he had built and renovated many, many houses. His aging mind told him what needed to be done, but it also forgot it as quickly as he started. In my heart, I knew he truly meant well, but after the first few days, I knew it wasn't going to work. The brand new bathtub had two big chips in it -- mysteriously appeared. The wall for the plumbing was offset by five inches - watering the edge of the tub. Searching for existing plumbing, he now had a huge jagged gap in my flooring - another job added to the ever growing list. By the end of the day, he was tired, frustrated, and suggested we hire someone. I was elated!
However, my balloon would be popped.
My dad called my niece's boyfriend, an out of work carpenter. He agreed and promised to have the job done in a matter of days. Unfortunately, working by the hour, the job stretched from two days to two weeks and only one wall was dry walled. His services were terminated.
Another friend of a friend, unemployed and willing to work, was hired. The first day was exciting. He sanded, painted and appeared to really want to get the job done. The next day, he was tired and sluggish. Sitting in the shade was far more appealing than working. Suddenly, he was gone - without even a goodbye.
My son and I trudged on. John with a little less eagerness than before, but still giving it his best.
On the weekend, my "honey" joined us at the house and started dry walling. I was amazed at how quickly he finished the room and started plastering. At last, I could see us moving forward. My mistake!
Satisfied we'd accomplished a lot, we closed up the house and headed home. Covered with plaster, I let Mike, my one and only, shower first. When he finished, I took one look at his legs and knew we were in trouble. From his knees down, his skin was purple - a dark, almost black purple.
To make a long, ugly story short, the doctors soon discovered he was only getting about 20 to 30 percent blood flow. I'm sure you guessed the results - no work for him.
My parents suggested I call it quits.
Never! I was raised to finish what I'd started, but I was willing to admit it might be a bit much to chew.
On the following Monday, my father sent a handyman ( a licensed plumber-electrician) to help me out. I was ecstatic - until he didn't show up. About three hours later, he called and said his van had broken down. Being an understanding person who'd had my share of vehicle trouble, I commiserated with him and then agreed to see him on Tuesday.
Tuesday came and went. Dave, the plumber, called and said his vehicle had stopped again, and promised to arrive, ready to work, on Wednesday.
On Wednesday, I was thrilled. My trusty plumber arrived and actually started installing some of the water pipes. Unfortunately, a tree had fallen on his mom's property and she needed his help. Now who am I to fault someone for helping their mom when in need. So I encouraged him to go to his mom's assistance. He promised to return the next day.
Removing the tree took longer and Dave didn't return until Friday. At noon, he started packing up his tools and apologized for the short day. Seems as though, he'd made plans with his grown children to travel out-of-town to his father's home to celebrate his birthday. Smiling with gritted teeth, I told him to have a nice week end. He promised to see me early Monday morning.
Hoping for a fresh start, I picked up John early Monday and we headed off to the house. Willing to accept any help available, I nervously let John pick up a paint roller and start to help me paint the front room and dining room. Much to my astonishment, he was very good at wielding the roller, especially since he didn't need to worry about getting paint on the trim or floor. I was amazed.
My special needs son was proving to be my greatest asset. We were both thrilled with our accomplishment, especially since the plumber arrived four hours late. Van trouble, of course.
My usual smiley face must have been sagging a bit, because Dave was extremely apologetic and suggested another friend that was looking for work. Aware of the situation, he told me Dan's work was precise, fast and cheap. The last word really caught my attention - cheap was what I needed.
After a short phone call, it was decided that Dan could start work the next day. I was told he could do anything and everything. Words that were music to my ears.
At the end of the day, John and I had finished two rooms. Maybe the house would be a home again, but it was still a mighty big maybe.
The next morning, my cell phone rang early. I recognized Dave's number and my heart sank. He explained he was borrowing a vehicle and would it be possible for me to pick up Dan. Without thinking, I immediately said yes - anything to get someone working.
Unfortunately, I soon discovered Dan lived in the next town, 20 miles away, but I was willing to make the sacrifice of time and gas to get him. If he was half as good as Dave promised, it would be worth it. Little did I know what my morning would be like.
Arriving at Dan's apartment, I saw a tall, long haired young man (in his late thirties) pacing outside the building. His legs and arms sported numerous tattoos. His yellow sun glasses hid his eyes, but his smile was friendly. He introduced himself and climbed into my car. He was very courteous and thanked me for coming to get him and for the ride. His manner instantly put me at ease. Putting the car in gear, we headed off to work or so I thought.
We'd only traveled two blocks when Dan told me he'd been up for hours, trying to calm down his girlfriend. Supposedly, she was at a friend's house just down the road and for some reason was having a panic attack. He asked if we could possibly pick her up and take her back to Rockford. Just call me Good Samaritan of the Day! Or maybe Sucker would be more like it!
The "just around the corner" turned out to be five miles out a country road. Two police cars were parked in the driveway when we arrived. Dan jumped out and hurried into the house, returning with a back pack that he placed in my trunk. One more trip back to the house and he returned with his arm around a young woman. I soon learned the "young lady" wasn't a lady in anyone's terms.
With cigarette in hand, she started to climb into my car. I politely asked her to put it out because I was allergic to the smoke. She belligerently got out of the car and walked away. Dan shrugged his shoulders and hurried after her. Consoled, she finally settled into the back seat and I pulled away from the house. Unfamiliar with the surroundings, I drove down the road, knowing it was taking us further away from the city as I searched for a crossroad. Seconds later, all hell broke loose.
A stream of vulgarity exploded in my backseat and threats of taking someone's life assaulted my ears. My new passenger was screaming and jumping around the seat while Dan kept trying to calm her down. The next thing I knew she was hanging between the front bucket seats, arms flaying and mouth sputtering swear words that would put any raunchy pirate to shame. To say my blood pressure escalated would be putting it mildly. I couldn't imagine what kind of mess I had gotten myself into and wondered if I would live through it, especially when she kept ranting about her blade.
Luckily, I found a road I recognized and pushed the accelerator to the floor, almost praying I'd be stopped by a patrol car. When the city limits came into view, I felt better. The voice from the back seat decided to take a different tactic and unceremoniously informed me that she knew I was having a "thing" with her man. I almost choked!
I'd had enough and I informed her I was old enough to be his mother and had a man I loved. Insulted, she demanded I stop the car and let her out on the side of the road. One part of me was screaming yes, yes, yes, but the strong side of me continued driving to my house (the one I live in currently).
Nerves shot and needing a bathroom, I parked and said I'd be right back. My passenger insisted she needed to come with me. Absolutely not! No way was that woman coming into my house ... sorry if that offends anyone, but this good Samaritan drew the line.
When I returned to my car, I was stunned. She was standing outside the car, pulling her pants up. It was daylight in the city and you can guess what she was doing!
Moments later, we continued our journey and I soon deposited my unwanted passenger a few blocks from her home. To make a long story short, she had another sugar daddy waiting for her and didn't want to be seen with us. She gathered up her belongings from my trunk, chugged a beer in the parking lot, and strolled down the street.
It was obvious Dan was embarrassed and deeply apologetic. Once at the house, I have never seen anyone work as fast and as accurately as he did. Whether urged on by the morning's events and his awkwardness or just the desire to work, I was extremely pleased with the results. His work truly surpassed any of my expectations. His "girlfriend" on the other hand was more than I ever wanted to see again.
The rest of the week was fruitful. The plumbing was completed, electrical was started, and all the walls were dry walled and plastered. Several more rooms were painted. The house was beginning to look livable.
Oh, I forgot to mention the poison oak. Did you know that even after a plant has been killed with Round Up or any weed killer, you can still get it? I am living proof of that one. I had doused the plants three times with the weed killer and it was brown and shriveled. I decided to remove it and put it in the garbage. A big mistake! The oils remain poisonous for five years on the dead plants ... so I read on the internet too late.
On Saturday, I was excited to show Mike how much progress we had made at the house. We even decided to take time to look for carpet since it wouldn't be too long before it could be installed. At the second store, he started staggering and complaining of being sick. By the time I got him to the truck, I knew we were in trouble. He couldn't stand, he couldn't see, and he was on the verge of passing out. You know where we spent out Saturday night and it wasn't out dancing.
After being admitted to the hospital, they discovered he had an infection somewhere, but they couldn't find it. We were in for a battery of tests and horrible food once again. This must be the worst, right?
Then the unthinkable happened ... as if it hadn't already been happening.
On Monday, my 90 year old father became ill and I had to take him to the hospital. He is suffering from Diverticulitus. At 6:30 A.M. Wednesday, my 90 year old mom was thought to have had a mini stroke and was taken to the hospital. Yesterday, my brother had a stroke and was taken by ambulance to the same hospital. I asked the nurse if we could just start our own wing.
Today, I sat down at my keyboard, wondering what I could write. My phone rang and I instantly thought, 'Come on, what else can go wrong?' I think I need to stop thinking, because the list is just endless.
Tomorrow starts another week as we move closer to finishing the restoration. At times, I have wondered if I will ever reach the end, but at this very moment, after typing this story, I believe if I have survived all this, I can endure anything else. I hope!
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Thank you anniepaige for the use of your photo.
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