Here I sit, in my half completed writing room. A few months worth of sweat, blood and tears and I’m almost there. Almost.
I like to consider myself a decently skilled DIYer. I’ve watched more than a few reruns of Renovation Realities on the DIY Network. If you ever need to feel good about yourself, just watch an episodes of this show. I swear to God, if I ever said some of the things these guys say to their significant others, I would be pushing up daisies.
The new wood floors are down, baseboards in, trim work done and all the walls painted. Sound like a job completed you say? Then why am I still writing from the dog bed?
The desks and credenzas will be finished soon, but in the interim, I’ve been relegated to using any space available. And, often that creative space has been the dog bed. My dogs look at me like I’ve lost my mind when I settle into their fluffy little nest. They will come and either pile on the bed with me, or bring me a ball to lure me away.
If that weren’t quirky enough, I’m writing form the dog bed, in the dark. Dark, you say? Then turn on the overheard light, the one on that fancy new ceiling fan you bought that squeezed the last dime out of your renovation budget.
Good idea, let me go flip the light switch.
Because the fancy new ceiling fan looks like this.
Ceiling fans are supposed to go on the ceiling, rather than become an art piece on the floor.
It seems that one piece, one not so insignificant piece, was missing from the fan’s factory sealed container. A part called a mounting ball that holds the fan into the ceiling bracket. Kind of important, I would guess. To the fan manufacturer, apparently, the part is something akin to a prostate, something you don’t think about until it doesn’t work.
And tracking down the missing part was something of a prostate exam. The manufacturer’s website provides all kinds of instructions and tutorials on installation and operation. But you have to have the mounting ball. Their FAQ’s link, concerns me because they have a link, “What to do if you’re missing a part.” LIKE A MOUNTING BALL. Their advice – go to where you came from. Well not exactly in those words, but I needed to go talk to the distributor to get a replacement part.
The anger sharks are swimming in my head.
Luckily, the place I needed to find isn’t far from home, so off I went. Unluckily, they don’t have the part in stock. It will be a special order and it will take a week to get it here. Customer service has gone the way of the Albatross and Pig-Footed Bandicoot – extinct.
I’m doomed to a lightless writing cave. Maybe I’ll take up cave painting.
The good news is that the mill called and the desks will be done this week. Until then, I’m writing Stories From the Dog Bed, in the Dark.