Hiya,

How's it going?

I forgot to mention that I had the day off today (in yesterday's blog). Well, I kind of had the day off. I was getting some drywall stuff done in the city home, so I had to be there for that.

Which is one of the topics of today's blog. How being "serviced" is quite the uncomfortable feeling for me.

My first memory of just being weirded out was when I was visiting my brother out in MA many years ago. We had stopped to take his car in for an oil change. It was one of those drive in joints where there's a access hole below the car and the people change your oil while you just sit in the car. Afterwards, you just drive out the back. I never told him that I was kind of weirded out - Well, I'm sure when he reads this, he'll know now...

Anyway, whenever I get my oil changed, I just stop the car at the dealership, and the supafly ride magically comes back a half hour to an hour later with "changed oil." I have my own hangups about car servicing, but that discussion will be for a later time...

So we pull into the bay (my brother had done this many times before, so it was no thang for him, I'm sure)... And we just sit there. There's definitely stuff going on under the car (we could hear people talking and tool-like noises under the car. And I was thinking to myself - should I get out of the car? Do we talk to the people that are around? What do we do while the servicepeople are changing the oil? I wasn't freaking out, but it was just a very foreign concept to me, I guess.

I'm sure I've peppered the blog about my hangups about being "serviced" by people, but here's another story...

So the year warranty on the city home is coming to an end (come 3 days on the 25th). And on the 11 month, you can call the developer people to come back and fix stuff that has gone wrong in the last year. One of the things on the agenda (the main thing, actually) was to redo some of the drywall that had shifted over the seasons, nail pops, etc. So today these two drywall dudes came by and worked at the house for about 5 hours or so. Patching, sanding, you name it. Anyway, the entire time these dudes were there, I felt uneasy. My mom had come along as well to keep me company, so at least I wasn't alone. Don't get me wrong. These blokes were really nice and friendly. No reason to think that they were sketchy. But that's the thing, I just didn't know what to do while they were there.

I didn't want to be in the way, but there was really no place where I felt we could really stay without being in the line of drywall repair. We ended up hanging out in the kitchen, because there was only one small area that needed patching.

I tried to be hospitable, offering them beverages and even lunch. They refused on the latter (apparently they had eaten on one of their breaks) so I went to get some sandwiches at this new restaurant that opened a few miles away. As a sidenote, these sandwiches were kickass. the shakes were really good as well.

anyway, back to the original topic.

So, after I brought the loot back to the house, I felt weird eating in front of the dudes. So I ended up eating my sandwich (which did I mention it was good? ;) really fast... My shake too. Even though they had told me that they weren't interested in lunch. And of course, the entire time I was eating, one of the dudes was mixing stuff at the kitchen sink. Ugh, who knows.

I dunno, maybe it was just odd for me to "carry on" as if nobody else (besides my mom) was there. For me it's like being in a room with a huge elephant in the corner that nobody is acknowledging.

So I'm a little odd. So what? ;) This is the same reason why I don't think I could fully enjoy room service. I know, I know. Don't knock it until you try it (or something like that).

what else...

So now in the city home, the walls are in need of a good painting since I have patches of bare drywall cement here and there. I wonder how much that is going to co$t.

I managed to set everything back up and normal again - In preparation for the drywall day, I put a bunch of stuff away to save it from the dreaded drywall dust that gets everywhere.

Tomorrow it's back to the grind...

-Kirk