The good news is that part of my hefty rent price tag goes towards someone else doing the major maintenance on the property. This includes the gutter cleaning. Sweet. In theory. In practice it involved me arriving home from the market to find my entire front walkway, front planting beds and deck covered in gutter slime. Complete with a huge smear of crud down the front of the house. For realsies.
Once I abandoned my initial theory that the house had undergone a wild animal attack, I did what any self-respecting women would have done: I made Chris call the property manager. While that was a real wussy thing to do, it was was probably the best choice since my message would have been something akin to "listen up you effing F-tard, WTF is wrong with you, get you ass over here and fix this before I kick you in the face." See, that was a good decision.
The story ends with a guy coming and blowing the crap off the porch, then leaving. Followed by a rainy night that turned the deck into a mud pit of festering gutter crud. The grand finale was when the guys finally came and power washed the deck and front of the house. Heck, the guy was even smart enough to ask me to move my car so as to avoid just spraying the mud off the house and onto the car. Good news, they are learning.
Now, in hindsight I do realize that I may have overreacted just a bit. A bit of mud is hardly the end of the world. However, it was just the last straw in my life. I spend every waking minute of my life keeping up with the this house. If I am not actively doing laundry/sweeping floors/picking up after the kids then I am mentally streaming the endless list of laundry/sweeping/picking up after the kids that needs to be done. Now I know these are first world problems. Boo-hiss that I have such a time keeping my giant water-front house clean between shuttling my wonderful and healthy kids to all their swanky activities. None the less, I work damn hard around here and when I arrive home to see the yard, the yard that I maintain more of less on my own (more on how I probably shouldn't be doing all this alone given Chris' new work schedule later), destroyed by a job poorly done, I just want to scream.
All is well that ends well, but let there be a few lessons learned here:
- A job is not done until it is actually done. Like completely finished with no remaining signs that a job was being done.
- I am a total B and I will make you come back do it as many times as it takes to get it right.
- Chris may want to start participating a bit around here so he can escape the trickle down punishment of my crazed frustrations.