April 17, 2007

This week our remodel was supposed to officially get underway, starting with the demolition work in the carport. JB prepared by tearing apart our fence and building a temporary area for Dog, before getting a call from the general contractor that they were walking away from the project. The company that’s worked with us over the last several weeks to get bids in place and draw up plans for the new kitchen and living area just up and dumped us, for no reason we can figure other than JB had tried to negotiate on pricing. They told him they always want their customers to be happy, and they weren’t sure they could make us happy, so they’d rather just sever the relationship.

Is that weird, or what? I guess they must be drowning in work, because I can’t fathom why else a contractor would bail on such an expensive project, especially over something as commonplace as pricing negotiations.

JB has been pretty spun up about it, having essentially planned a complicated wedding only to have the bride run off in a childish snit. He’s getting new bids, but now that we have to start over and not only find the right people but get on their schedules, I imagine it will be a while before anything happens.

In the meantime, I’m trying to view those paint sample squares in the kitchen as modern art. When people come over, I’ll tell them I’ve been in a Cubist Period, experimenting with representing Benjamin Moore’s yellow-beige oeuvre in a two-dimensional space. Then I’ll adjust my beret and moodily smoke a Gauloise.

Lucky for JB’s blood pressure, he’s been a trooper about doing yoga with me in the evenings lately. He’s about as bendy as a two-by-four, but he gamely cranks himself into Upward Dogs and Chair Poses and only minimally bitches about the annoying Inhale music and the balding dorkiness of Steve Ross.

I’m really grateful for his participation, because it’s highly unlikely I would be sticking with the night-time yoga if I were the only one repeatedly heaving my butt into the air like a startled skunk while listening to “Mustang Sally”. Yoga feels amazing but it looks downright hilarious, no matter how sinewy your muscles or how flattering your pants. It’s definitely not a spectator sport.

On a related note, I’ve decided that people who can do the splits are alien life forms. Can you do the splits? If so I fear both your inhuman flexibility and your no-doubt powerful anal probe.


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samantha jo campen
17 years ago

Your influence over me is overpowering. Seriously. If you suddenly write that you now raise Alpacas, I’d probably jump on that Sundry wagon too.

So yeah, in addition to eating healthy and working out, I’m now doing freakin’ yoga (with a little Pilates mixed in). I am completely fine with not losing pounds on the scale, but just fitting in my clothes better and seeing a physical change. JUST. LIKE. YOU. If it doesn’t work, it’s TOTALLY your fault.


Oh, but I’m not going to do a remodel or anything. We live in an apartment and I think the property manager would get pissed.

inexpensive wedding catering

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