Fear and Loathing in Port Hueneme

With apologies to the late great Hunter S. Thompson, as you can see from Lisa's first posting ever (below) and my postings of late, "Fear and Loathing" is what we're left with: Lisa's fear and my loathing.

If owning a home is truly the American Dream, then this truly is "A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream."

With apologies to the not late but still great Alice Cooper:

"Welcome to My Nightmare."

A nightmare of distrust and loathing.

As long as it doesn't turn out to be a Shakespearean tragedy of revenge, I think we'll be all right.

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He (I'm not even going to use him name) just called. Given the gas shit, I took the call. He wanted to know what the outcome was from last night: he doesn't read his emails obviously.

He knew about the lock on the valve, though. Makes me suspicious that yesterday was a passive-aggressive wild goose chase... but I digress.

But then he asked why there was the smell of gas, and I said that if they tried to turn it on, the meter is obviously not connected to the house, and the gas would have jetted out, thus the smell (but it was locked... whatever). I told him that the gas company was coming out today to reconnect. I told him between 10 and 5... he said, "Perfect" and that he'd be there.

So I'm wiping my hands of this.

I told him I had meetings and appointments all day, so I might not take calls. He said he'd leave a message. Whatever. He wanted to know about the check. I told him it was in the drawer in the kitchen. "Perfect."

The cold was curt, short, without pleasantries.

"Perfect." I've not nothing pleasant to say to he-who-must-not-be-named.

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UPDATE:

Nor do I have anything pleasant to say about him.

He called Lisa, and spoke with her about stuff as he walked around the house:

He's now thinking that we won't get in next week, but the following... the week of Christmas. He wants the final inspection to take place on the Monday of that week; when Lisa reminded him that it was Christmas Eve, he thought they might be able to do it at the end of next week. Yeah, right.

Clean-up will begin Monday.

The water guy he wanted to bring in is unavailable (another death in a family)... so that's out.

They discussed the railing and Lisa voiced her displeasure over the wrought iron and said we expected wood. That, he said, was not in his budget. Lisa thought, but did not say, that that was NOT her problem. She didn't call him on the fact that he promised us wood. Well, fuck him. I'm loading for bear, captain.

The skylight is delayed again until next week. Though it was supposedly in last week. Let's face facts: one) he doesn't have the skylight, two) he's a lying sack of shit.

He asked about closet doors; Lisa said we hadn't yet found ones we liked. He said that once we have them, he'll have one of his guys to install them.

[I asked at this point when we'll get Jose for five days... that subject didn't come up.]

He wants a doorknob for the door from the laundry room to the garage. I want a lot of things. He still thinks he'll be able to get the door past the inspector by, get this--it's a doozy... no really, wait for it.... wait for it-- pleading ignorance. He's fucking delusional on top of being a liar.

They've had to remove a kitchen cabinet to work in the wall... I'm supposing for the range hood, though Lisa did not get clarification.

She raised the issue of the porch. If we provide the replacement tiles, he'll put them in. He didn't address the paint on the porch. [nor did lord voldemort discuss the shingle replaces... as both damage areas were caused by the eave painting]. He also "offered" to bring in his own tile if we pay for the labor. He has got to be fucking kidding. Uh, no.

[honest, I was trying to be as cool and non-bitter/confrontational/angry... but I admit to having some "emotional leakage"... but I cleaned it up]

I think that was it... I'm too pissed off to remember it all (that must be the HEALTHY FUCKING SIDE OF MY PSYCHE attempting to suppress all this).

I want to stop payment on that 19K check. I want to launch my scud to the Bitter Business Bureau (no pun intended) right this freaking minute. Lisa convinced me to wait until we're in the house [despite the fact that she had no response to my question as to what the hell else can he (NOT) do for/to us if we complain now]... at least she's not saying to wait until after the 30-day list.

I'm going after him full bore... the BBB asks for some info... I'm going to need to hone my writing to a razor edge as each question has a character limit: complaint summary (150 characters), describe the problem with "them" (1500), what do I want them to do (500), describe the service (70)... yep, I'm already starting to work on my entries.

I've got about an hour or so before Lisa comes home... and I want to be calm by then...

breathe...