It's a good thing we have a week off of school coming up.
This morning I went for a drive to find a local charitable organization to see about volunteer opportunities. I got lost for twenty minutes on the way and had a screaming baby in the back seat. When I finally found the place, it was closed.
On the way home, our rental car's tire started making noise and thumping. Having just heard some of our friends talk about how the tread had come right off their tire, I imagined the worst and called the rental company.
Meanwhile, Rachel said one of the other people in our compound (with exactly the same house design), had un-stacked their washer and dryer and put them side by side. So I unscrewed the clamps holding ours together, wrestled the dryer down off the washer, and attempted to put them both into the space where they'd been stacked before. Unfortunately, the concrete wall actually slopes outward down near the floor on one side, so in OUR house, the space is half an inch too narrow. And I had to pick the dryer back up and reattach it.
In the middle of that project, the kitchen tube-lights went out, and tripped the breaker. We tried turning it on a few times, and it kept tripping, so we called maintenance. The guy came, didn't bother looking at the light, just fiddled in the breaker box while I was moving the dryer, and then went on his way, the light apparently fixed.
Rachel had put Miss A to bed, and I read Big E stories and left him in his bed for his afternoon nap. He came downstairs several times and I got irritated because I was trying to relax. Then Big E came downstairs again smiling. He had pooped in his underwear, and I got to clean that up. Then I stayed with him until he fell asleep and I finally had some time to relax and talk with Rachel. The rental car company guy came to check out our complaint, got the keys, and drove off without any indication of when he'd return or what he planned to do with our car. And the car we'd bought was in being serviced. An hour or so later, it was time for us to go trick-or-treating. But Miss A's stroller--which doubles as her costume when we dress it like a big shark (she's Sharkbait-ooo-ha-ha!)--was in the trunk of our rental car. So I called a friend who kindly came to pick up Rachel and the kids, and they went ahead of me. I waited until the rental car guy came back and said he couldn't find anything wrong other than a slightly low tire; if it continued tomorrow, they'd bring us a new car.
Trick-or-treating actually went pretty well, thank goodness!
After a late dinner with an uncooperative toddler and a screaming one-year-old (tomorrow!), I set about washing the dishes. Rachel asked if I could smell something burning, and I could, but we couldn't locate the source. The smell seemed to be coming from the AC unit in the kitchen. But then the light exploded into flame, and we decided it was probably the light. Rachel ran to turn off the breaker as I scrambled up onto the counter we have ten-foot ceilings--even I'm not that tall!) and tried to get the cover of the light off with one hand. Finally, I did yank it off, and it fell (glad it was just plastic), and the whoosh of air put out the flame.
In all this time, our smoke detector hadn't gone off, which isn't really comforting, you know?
So I called maintenance again. The guy came and after looking at the burned light, he said he'd replace the transformer part of it. I said I wanted the whole fixture replaced because of the potential for melted wires and smoke damage, and he grudgingly agreed. Then he installed a temporary screw-in socket held in place with electrical tape and zip ties.
I asked him why the emergency backup light hadn't come on this evening when it had in the afternoon. He said something about a direct connection in broken English, and I asked him to change back whatever he'd fiddled with in the breaker box, suspecting (given the exploding transformer) that he had simply circumvented the breaker, and that's what he meant by "direct connection". He again grudgingly obliged and opened up the breaker box, where it looked to me like he had directly wired the circuit instead of running it through a breaker. So I called his supervisor after he left and said, "I don't want the guy to get in trouble or get yelled at or get fired, I just don't want him making any more direct connections with wiring in my house. I want stuff fixed properly with proper breakers. I don't want a repeat of Villagio (don't click on that link if fire deaths are a trigger for you) in my house." He clearly talked to the maintenance guy, because he was back in five minutes to show me that he had simply switched to a spare breaker, and not actually circumvented the breaker. He said most of the villas have a problem with the original breaker tripping too easily, so he'd just switched it. I apologized and called his supervisor again to admit my mistake and make sure the worker didn't get in any trouble because of my misunderstanding.
So after all that, I get to go to bed feeling like an idiot and a jerk.
I'm glad there's repentance.
This morning I went for a drive to find a local charitable organization to see about volunteer opportunities. I got lost for twenty minutes on the way and had a screaming baby in the back seat. When I finally found the place, it was closed.
On the way home, our rental car's tire started making noise and thumping. Having just heard some of our friends talk about how the tread had come right off their tire, I imagined the worst and called the rental company.
Meanwhile, Rachel said one of the other people in our compound (with exactly the same house design), had un-stacked their washer and dryer and put them side by side. So I unscrewed the clamps holding ours together, wrestled the dryer down off the washer, and attempted to put them both into the space where they'd been stacked before. Unfortunately, the concrete wall actually slopes outward down near the floor on one side, so in OUR house, the space is half an inch too narrow. And I had to pick the dryer back up and reattach it.
In the middle of that project, the kitchen tube-lights went out, and tripped the breaker. We tried turning it on a few times, and it kept tripping, so we called maintenance. The guy came, didn't bother looking at the light, just fiddled in the breaker box while I was moving the dryer, and then went on his way, the light apparently fixed.
Rachel had put Miss A to bed, and I read Big E stories and left him in his bed for his afternoon nap. He came downstairs several times and I got irritated because I was trying to relax. Then Big E came downstairs again smiling. He had pooped in his underwear, and I got to clean that up. Then I stayed with him until he fell asleep and I finally had some time to relax and talk with Rachel. The rental car company guy came to check out our complaint, got the keys, and drove off without any indication of when he'd return or what he planned to do with our car. And the car we'd bought was in being serviced. An hour or so later, it was time for us to go trick-or-treating. But Miss A's stroller--which doubles as her costume when we dress it like a big shark (she's Sharkbait-ooo-ha-ha!)--was in the trunk of our rental car. So I called a friend who kindly came to pick up Rachel and the kids, and they went ahead of me. I waited until the rental car guy came back and said he couldn't find anything wrong other than a slightly low tire; if it continued tomorrow, they'd bring us a new car.
Trick-or-treating actually went pretty well, thank goodness!
After a late dinner with an uncooperative toddler and a screaming one-year-old (tomorrow!), I set about washing the dishes. Rachel asked if I could smell something burning, and I could, but we couldn't locate the source. The smell seemed to be coming from the AC unit in the kitchen. But then the light exploded into flame, and we decided it was probably the light. Rachel ran to turn off the breaker as I scrambled up onto the counter we have ten-foot ceilings--even I'm not that tall!) and tried to get the cover of the light off with one hand. Finally, I did yank it off, and it fell (glad it was just plastic), and the whoosh of air put out the flame.
In all this time, our smoke detector hadn't gone off, which isn't really comforting, you know?
So I called maintenance again. The guy came and after looking at the burned light, he said he'd replace the transformer part of it. I said I wanted the whole fixture replaced because of the potential for melted wires and smoke damage, and he grudgingly agreed. Then he installed a temporary screw-in socket held in place with electrical tape and zip ties.
I asked him why the emergency backup light hadn't come on this evening when it had in the afternoon. He said something about a direct connection in broken English, and I asked him to change back whatever he'd fiddled with in the breaker box, suspecting (given the exploding transformer) that he had simply circumvented the breaker, and that's what he meant by "direct connection". He again grudgingly obliged and opened up the breaker box, where it looked to me like he had directly wired the circuit instead of running it through a breaker. So I called his supervisor after he left and said, "I don't want the guy to get in trouble or get yelled at or get fired, I just don't want him making any more direct connections with wiring in my house. I want stuff fixed properly with proper breakers. I don't want a repeat of Villagio (don't click on that link if fire deaths are a trigger for you) in my house." He clearly talked to the maintenance guy, because he was back in five minutes to show me that he had simply switched to a spare breaker, and not actually circumvented the breaker. He said most of the villas have a problem with the original breaker tripping too easily, so he'd just switched it. I apologized and called his supervisor again to admit my mistake and make sure the worker didn't get in any trouble because of my misunderstanding.
So after all that, I get to go to bed feeling like an idiot and a jerk.
I'm glad there's repentance.