Having People
When you wade out into the waters of home-ownership, you begin collecting people.
No! Not as in collecting dead people ... in your crawl space.
No, I'd never do that.
I just collect dead birds in my crawl space ... and snakes ... and creepy-crawly bugs ...
No, what I mean is that you begin to have a virtual Rolodex of people that you collect and call upon for various services around your home.
For instance, I have furnace people. Yes, that's right. I have furnace people. And they are great people! Very helpful. Always friendly. Amazing furnace people.
In fact, I will be seeing one of those people soon to do some work on my gas fireplace. I am unable to contain the excitement that I have anticipating evenings in front of my very own fireplace with a glass of wine in my hand.
I will be a person with a fireplace!
I will be "fireplace people!"
What this poor man doesn't realize is that I've created an entire list of question I plan to pepper him with when he gets here.
Okay, yes, I will wait until he takes his coat off perhaps. I might even offer him a beverage before I begin the barrage of questions.
Top of the list will be an extensive tutorial on how to fire up that gas log. Gosh, I'd hate to blow myself up trying to become a "fireplace person."
I was mentioning to my mother this evening that I had people.
"Mom, I am not sure if you knew this, but I have people."
"Uh, huh..." Some things never change here, folks. She is still "multi-tasking" while I talk.
"I like having people."
"Yes, it is nice," she replied.
"It's sooooo nice," I agreed. "Until it comes time to pay their bills. Then, not so much."
"Boy, that's the truth. Why not have your neighbors pay it? You know? The same one's that paid for your garbage bill?" My mother still thinks that story is a hoot.
"You mean the Johnson's? I am not sure where they live."
"The City of Frankfort must. They took the Johnson's money to pay your bill. You could have bill-paying people!"
Hmmmm ... bill-paying people. Ummm ... isn't that what my parents were .... before they rudely booted me from The Nest and told me to become a functioning part of society with my own people?
No! Not as in collecting dead people ... in your crawl space.
No, I'd never do that.
I just collect dead birds in my crawl space ... and snakes ... and creepy-crawly bugs ...
No, what I mean is that you begin to have a virtual Rolodex of people that you collect and call upon for various services around your home.
For instance, I have furnace people. Yes, that's right. I have furnace people. And they are great people! Very helpful. Always friendly. Amazing furnace people.
In fact, I will be seeing one of those people soon to do some work on my gas fireplace. I am unable to contain the excitement that I have anticipating evenings in front of my very own fireplace with a glass of wine in my hand.
I will be a person with a fireplace!
I will be "fireplace people!"
What this poor man doesn't realize is that I've created an entire list of question I plan to pepper him with when he gets here.
Okay, yes, I will wait until he takes his coat off perhaps. I might even offer him a beverage before I begin the barrage of questions.
Top of the list will be an extensive tutorial on how to fire up that gas log. Gosh, I'd hate to blow myself up trying to become a "fireplace person."
I was mentioning to my mother this evening that I had people.
"Mom, I am not sure if you knew this, but I have people."
"Uh, huh..." Some things never change here, folks. She is still "multi-tasking" while I talk.
"I like having people."
"Yes, it is nice," she replied.
"It's sooooo nice," I agreed. "Until it comes time to pay their bills. Then, not so much."
"Boy, that's the truth. Why not have your neighbors pay it? You know? The same one's that paid for your garbage bill?" My mother still thinks that story is a hoot.
"You mean the Johnson's? I am not sure where they live."
"The City of Frankfort must. They took the Johnson's money to pay your bill. You could have bill-paying people!"
Hmmmm ... bill-paying people. Ummm ... isn't that what my parents were .... before they rudely booted me from The Nest and told me to become a functioning part of society with my own people?
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