Tree Woman Strikes Again

Many years ago I pulled down half a tree with my bare hands in front of a couple of smart-alec witnesses. I have been “Tree Woman” ever since. It’s a mark of two things, I guess, stupid impulsivity and a do-it-myself attitude. Plus, it’s funny to some people. Go figure.

So yesterday I noticed that my newly-installed dishwasher was leaking. When I looked, it wasn’t so much a leak as a current that was running under the cabinets, soaking the flooring underneath. To make matters worse, the reason I asked for help installing it the first time was that I have short pudgy everything, and the cut-off valve is in a crappy, unreachable place. I had literally snatch the thing sideways in order to reach the valve, which turned the current into a fountain. Lying in a puddle with live electrical wires millimeters away and water spraying me in the face, I finally managed to close the valve. Since there was a load running at the time, I had to drain the machine before I could do anything else, but I finally got everything unhooked and unwired and out of the hole. It was… well, let’s just say I am glad the people buying this house do not read my blog. God willing, it will hold this time and everything will be fine for a while.

The culprit was spendthrift, the jerk. Cheap always causes problems. In an effort to save $5, my “helper” INSISTED all I needed was a ferrule and a nut for one end of the pipe. Nut, indeed. When he left, things were fine. After the washer moved a little (because I hadn’t bolted it in yet, because I was watching for leaks), the non-reworked end of the pipe came unseated, and the rest is history. I cannot tell you the effort it took to get that stupid pipe to hold the first time, just to get it ON the washer, even. The fix was a $5 hose and some teflon tape, a headache from being on my back for an hour, and very sore legs from hopping up and down to turn off/on power, hunt tools, get towels, etc. By golly, it works now!

Geez, I hate this house.

I know it’s not the house’s fault. It has suffered from the half-a$$ed work done on it many years ago, which is now failing on my watch. Unfortunately, I can’t make the repairs without an income that does more than pay for gas and cat food. That’s about as far as my money goes these days. Still, I wish my mom had stayed put a little longer, had never moved here. She loved it while she had it, though, so I can’t blame her for it, either. I should have moved when she died. I feel like I need her approval to leave. Isn’t that silly? Every time something goes wrong or breaks, I just beat the crap out of myself for still being here, for not fixing it when I had a career. I don’t feel like I deserve to own a house, actually. How can I go to a new town and start over if I am simply a destroyer of dwellings?

Oops! I didn’t mean for this to turn into a rant. I have so much to write, but I don’t want to bore you to tears! Remind me to talk to you about “Black Empowerment Theology,” or maybe reality tv. Bet I could stir up something ugly with either of those little conversation starters.

On a happier note, the babies are starting to recognize me. They turn their little faces up to be rubbed, and cry and crawl toward me when they hear my voice. I guess their hearing is getting better – I suppose they are learning my scent, too. So darned cute.

OK, later. Hope your Tuesday is marvelous and full of love.

-Me