Tag: Male

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Yet more home repairs

I’m sharing this for no other reason than to remind all Men,

“You’re not alone brother!”

My morning started out pretty normal. I got up, had a cup of coffee or two. Looked at my ToDO list and started working.

First up, was completion of some edits on and troubleshooting a website. Problems with this site had befuddled me for a couple of days, and this morning I decided to hit it like Spartacus!

Magically, the problems I’d been having melted before my awesomeness! “That was easy,” I said. Then moved onto the next thing on the list with confidence.

Perhaps I was too cocky.

The rest of the morning unfolded as follows;

I began by cleaning the gutters, The back gutter was a solid mess. Pine needles and about a quarter of an inch of dirt filled the entire 40 foot length of the rear gutter.

I was amazed that it wasn’t simply over-flowing when it rained. Using a ladder on the deck, I was able to remove the pile of pine needles. This process was annoyingly slow but simple manual labor. Grab the pine needles by hand toss them into the yard, move ladder to the next section. Repeat as needed. I finished by flushing the dirt out with a high pressure spray of water from the hose and bingo, the rear gutter was clean.

With even more self assuredness I moved to the front gutter. Oddly, it wasn’t nearly as blocked up as the rear, and it is overflowing when it rains. The front gutter is problematic to clean because unlike the back one, there is only a short deck to work from in the front of the house.

Using my handy dandy fiberglass poles and a little creativity with a bit of metal I fashioned a two bladed hook that allowed me to hook the pine needles and other plant debris raking it toward me. I didn’t have to move the ladder which was a good thing because there’s no place to move it to.

Due to the slope of the yard, one end of the front gutter is 20 feet off the ground and I don’t have a 25 foot ladder. After all, I’d only use it once a year.

Debris removed, I grabbed the hose attached to the front hose bib. The intention was to rinse the dirt and small bits of loose debris from the gutter, as I had done in back. Hose deployed and unkinked, I walk down stairs to turn the water on full blast. I run back upstairs climb the ladder and direct the spray nozzle into the gutter rinsing the detritus from the bottom.

It is approximately at this point that two problems become apparent.

Problem 1 is that the water is not exiting the gutter as anticipated.

Problem 2 is that I hear water running even when the spray nozzle is in the off position. I’d noticed that the water pressure wasn’t quite as high as I’d experienced in the back but thought little of this rather obvious clue.

I’m curious why I still hear water running.

I head down stairs and had 2 inches of one stair break off as I stepped on it, and damn near sent me down the rest of the flight, face first.

Priorities dictated that I find the source of the water sound, before dealing with the broken stair, other than swearing loudly, and profusely, as I caught myself.

Ladies, we guys don’t always get hurt doing something stupid. Sometimes we get hurt because we’re trying to make sure that things are maintained and safe for our families. It just happens that in that process we’re the ones who find cleverly covered up broken, or ignored things. My Dad had a knack for finding the one live wire in a bundle of “rat fucked” wires that one of us kids had tried to fix before being distracted by something shiny in the yard. It was a miracle that nothing caught fire, and my Dad wasn’t electrocuted during my childhood.

Once safely down the stairs, I notice that the sound of running water is louder, but it is not coming as expected from the hose fitting. I head into the basement to discover a quarter to half an inch of water pooled directly under the pipe leading to the hose bib on the exterior wall.

Being thankful for my foresight 8 years ago, I grabbed the nifty ball valve on the water line to the hose bib that I usually only use in preparation for Winter, and shut off the water to the bib without having to kill the water to the entire house.

Okay, now the water problem is managed.

I head back up to the deck pausing to check that the offending stair will not crumble under my weight and back up the ladder to see what’s going on with the gutter. It is still full of water. Great! My front gutter downspout is clogged and I don’t have a ladder tall enough to allow me direct access.

In an attempt to remedy the clog, I began disassembling the segments of the downspout hoping to be able to snake the clog with what I had on hand. A.K.A. my handy dandy fiberglass poles.

Unfortunately, during this process I discover another problem. The clutch on my drill is broken and I can barely unscrew the screws holding the downspout in place without the drill slipping. I question if I can drive a sheet metal screw back through the retaining straps when I’m done clearing the drain spout. However, I’m in it now, and going for the gold, I will finish this one task!

(You know, some days you get the bull and other days you get the horn. You can surmise which I got.)

The fiberglass poles are not able to make the sharp turns leading to the clog, (which appears to be, in or beyond the last “S” leading to the short straight section connected to the gutter itself. Of Course! The clog couldn’t be in any of the sections that I can access, it’s just out of reach, (kinda like my dating life!)

I’m able to reassemble the gutter and get it strapped back to the side of the house. Broken drill notwithstanding.

I am curious about why the drill is broken, and why there is a suspicious big white scuff mark on one side of it indicating that it may have been dropped from a height.

I briefly think about beginning a grand inquisition as to who was using my drill, and how it came to be damaged since the last time I had need of it. I do not recall dropping the machine, but it was at least put back in it’s case where it belonged so that is progress in the right direction.

Nah, there shall be no inquisition today. I just have a great excuse to go pick up that sweet Ryobi set I’ve been wanting. I’ll count it as a win!

With the drill broken, I can’t repair the stairs. The plumber will be here in an hour or so, to replace the broken section of pipe.

In the mean time I’m having a coke. I’ve been at my home repair follies for over 3 hours. I’ll have another shower, then go to Home-Depot to see if I can get a suitable drain snake and a new drill / impact driver set.

Other that that Mrs. Lincoln… How was the Play?

See? Now you can laugh your ass off! Misery loves company doesn’t it?

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We’re under a fire Evacuation Warning

2020 continues to be a shit show.

I’m so over this year. The fires are encroaching on the town. 10 miles out and the winds are kicking up. Great! We’ve been under the warning for the past 24 hours.

I tried to go to bed tonight. The house is closed and the A/C is on. Smoke is blowing around and my sinuses are irritated. I’m having a problem sleeping in general, tonight the house is a tad too warm, and I was having trouble shutting down.

I was laying there thinking I should get a drink to see if I could use it to relax. I rolled on my side and was looking at the visible stars. Just drifting off… Then the bed started shaking. A quick check of the bedroom showed that there was no demonic activity. So no possession was imminent.

Then another stronger shaking. Since we no longer have any pets it wasn’t one of them scratching. Oh, it’s an Earthquake! Well isn’t that just swell. What next? Frogs? Locusts?

Okay, I’m up!

Poured myself that drink I’d been contemplating and here I sit on the couch drinking and writing.

The local news people are blathering, but it sounds like there’s no damage.

I’m so over all of the crap this year. Honestly, I don’t think next year is gonna be any better.

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The End of an Era…

For many years, I’ve maintained a VIP membership at a gym in Orange County.

As part of that membership I had access to the VIP locker room. This was not the locker room you’d be familiar with if you attend a “normal” gym.

This locker room was all wood. It had a private Jacuzzi, wet & dry saunas, private access to the pool, and ample sinks and mirrors, where it was not uncommon to see 8 to 10 men shaving in the morning and often in the evenings if they were going out on a date.

We all had private lockers, towel service, the gym would wash our dirty workout clothes and leave them in our lockers when finished. There was fresh coffee, and fresh fruit available in a lounge area that seated 10 around a big screen TV usually tuned to the financial news or on weekends to one of the various games. They even had a place where you could drop off your laundry and pick it up a couple days later all conveniently billed to your Gym account with a monthly itemized statement delivered to your locker.

Occasionally one of the guys would bring his son or sons into the gym and the locker room to change clothes, or shower after father and son(s) worked out or used the pool. No-one paid any mind as long as the youngster wasn’t misbehaving. It was a place of Men.

In a time when places for Men were disappearing and feminism was taking it’s toll on even Barber Shops, it was a place that was a welcome sanctuary from the hubbub of the business day. I can’t count how many business deals I heard being closed in the lounge chairs over coffee or a cool post workout smoothie.

I spent many happy hours in that locker room. Sometimes finishing a report for work, but more often just starting my day there.

I’d drive to the gym, workout, shower, shave, have breakfast, then walk across the street to work. Sometimes I’d start and end my day at the gym, using cardio to burn the frustrations of the day away waiting for traffic to die down.

The gym had regular locker-rooms for men and women too. But I was worth the added expense and really enjoyed the VIP locker room because it was always quiet and comfortable. I guess you could call it a “Safe Space”.

The Gym itself had a pro shop, dining area, the usual array of weight machines, free weight areas, racquet ball and basketball courts, spin classes, yoga, aerobic studios, conference rooms (that you could reserve a month in advance), a hair salon, child care for the kids who were too young or not interested in working out with Dad or Mom. It was a big place and for a time, only the best of the best trainers got to work there.

While trying to figure out when the Gym would re-open due to COVID I discovered that my gym would never re-open.

24 Hour Fitness is in bankruptcy and apparently my gym was one of the casualties of their default, 130 gyms in all.

There’d been no notice, no email, no letter… nothing. This left me wondering where, when, and how I’d get my things from my locker. I tried calling corporate and all I got was a recording telling me that due to COVID there was no one to talk to. I wrote a strongly worded letter to corporate and heard nothing.

Last Friday, I got an email from 24 Hour Fitness telling me that I needed to call the number provided as soon as possible, to collect my things. I called the number Monday and made arrangements to drive down to grab my gear.

It almost wasn’t worth it. One shoe, my workout clothes, racquet balls, and all my toiletries were missing. They did manage to get my shower shoes, my racquet ball racquet, and my favorite yoga mat into a big plastic trash bag. They had no idea about the other items or why they’d not made it into the bag. Except for the racquet, the drive to OC was almost not worth making.

24 Hour Fitness, is giving me a great rate on their All Gym package in consideration of the closure. I can literally go to any of their gyms which is no different than what my membership always provided.

It won’t be the same. I’ll have to hump my shit to and from the gym, fiddle with a padlock and remember what locker I put my shit in when I’m done with my workout. I know this is the normal way gyms work but I’ve tasted better, and I liked it. I liked walking into the gym like a zombie, getting my stuff out of my locker dressing to work out and actually waking up at some point during my workout. I liked going to the locker room and having a cup of coffee before I showered and got on with my day.

That’s all a thing of the past now. I haven’t made any decision yet about the membership. I think it’s best to let the wound scab over a bit.

The gym where I picked up my stuff was strange. No music, no TVs. It’s a nice place, but felt strange. People on cardio machines with their masks on, their earbuds in their ears listening to their own groove from phones or pads in front of them. Few people were using the weights, and those who’d completed their workouts left the gym sweaty and disheveled. The locker room was empty as I made my way through to the bathroom. It was like a weird movie. Everyone silent and isolated, even in a crowd.

I’m not sure that I’ll be maintaining the membership. I don’t like this version of “Normal”

It occurred to me that I have no ties left with OC other than one remaining friend there.

OC used to be a big part of my world. I worked there, my doctor was there, I drank there, and played there. Now OC is just another place that I used to know, but don’t goto anymore. Los Angeles, Hollywood, and The Valley all have this same feeling. Places I used to goto but don’t anymore. Palm Springs is starting to feel like this too. Distant, broken, alien.

I’m beginning to think, for me, this is more than COVID fatigue. It’s something deeper.

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Interesting

I’ve lived in this area for almost 30 years.

During that time I’ve seen a variety of wild life including snakes from time to time. Prior to this year I’ve seen only one rattlesnake.

This year I’ve seen two in the neighborhood. The first one was in my yard, unfortunately I don’t have a very good photo of it.

Yesterday, I heard some girls screaming that there was a snake. They’re children so as an adult it’s on me to insure they’re not hurt and that they don’t antagonize a snake that could hurt them.

I’m thinking it’s a California King snake, or a Gopher Snake and the girls are just being girls. I was wrong.

The snake had crossed paths, or rather one of the girls had stepped over the snake and it rattled at her. By the time I got there the snake had moved to a defensible position and was alert but not aggressive.

The girls guardians showed up a couple of minutes later, then the discussion about killing the poor thing began.

Generally speaking I’m not in favor of killing creatures just because they happen to exist. As it turns out the “father” shared my general opinion.

What surprised me was the bloodlust of the little girls. They wanted it dead. It had done them no harm, it had warned them to stay away, and appeared to be waiting patiently for the hubbub to die down.

I imagine that it would have left the area of its own accord had it not been for all the humans around.

Probably, if the snake had not been positioned as it was, it would be dead now. The thing is, there was no clear way to strike at it with a shovel or ax that would insure an instant kill. Meaning that if we’d struck at it, we’d have probably just pissed it off and it would have struck at us.

We had a rattlesnake standoff. Myself and the other male were discussing the options when one of the little girls was just rabid about killing it. She kept saying, “Kill it, Kill it,” in an ever increasing volume. Without thinking I said, “If you want something dead that bad, maybe you should be the one prepared to kill it,” and gestured toward her with the trenching tool I was holding.

She suddenly got quiet. I don’t know what was going through her head. I hope that it was the realization that killing anything isn’t trivial. Even if it’s not your hand on the instrument of death. I doubt that’s what she thought, she probably wasn’t old enough to make that kind of connection.

Eventually, one of the neighbors remembered there was someone in town who would relocate snakes to another canyon (unpopulated) so we gave them a call. They weren’t available, but they hooked us up with a lady who was. Twenty minutes later, the snake was safely in a box and heading to a place where it wouldn’t have to deal vicious blood thirsty humans.

The experience left me thinking.

I’ve killed snakes that were an immediate threat. I felt bad about killing ’em but given the circumstances there was no choice.

I’ve killed other creatures and ate ’em, in that situation it was because I was hungry. Even fishing, you’re killing another creature, which means that there’s supposed to be a built in limit.

You kill what you need, you kill whatever it is quickly and humanely, you eat what you kill, and you don’t arbitrarily or wantonly kill more than you need for yourself or your family.

Most men I know subscribe to the same principals. But wait, males are supposed to be the vicious killers aren’t they?

Why then were the little girls and the adult women screeching for blood? Why was it that the males were willing to take a watchful caution?

Had it only been me and the other guy, we’d have probably let the snake go its way and we’d have watched it go back into the forest. Two predator species respecting each other.

Because of the presence of women, we were under pressure to do something, anything, even if what we did was going to make the situation worse.

It occurred to me that almost every conflict I’ve ever been a part of, or witnessed was driven by women. Either the males were trying to impress, or the women were demanding action.

I makes me wonder…

I can understand that women might be genetically predisposed to eliminate any possible threat to their young whether or not the threat is real.

I wonder if men on the other hand, because we’re stronger, and usually have been the ones to get our hands bloody, might have an inherent respect for life & death that goes unacknowledged. We learn early on, that killing is bloody and final. We understand that when we kill, we’ve removed something from the world, on some level we understand that once gone it’s gone forever.

Granted some men acquire a taste for killing but most men I know have a deep respect for life, and don’t take it lightly, or for granted.

It’s strange how simple events get me thinking.

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After 7 Months…

The car saga is finally coming to a close.

I’ll call it done when the check has cleared!

Back in November 2019 I had a little “boo boo” driving home form Orange County. At the time I thought it was just going to be an annoyance. If I’d only known…

Short story, car sits in repair shop for a month. I get tired of the fighting between the body shop and the insurance company and tell them, “Just FIX the damn thing, I’ll pay the difference.”

December 31 I pick up the car and drive it home. 1st week of Jan 2020 I call the insurance company to have a discussion with one of their adjusters and the adjuster agrees that they should have paid for all of the repairs not just the portion they did pay for. He says he’s sending a check. I think hurrah!

Check never comes. I call the insurance company and they tell me the check has been cashed. I ask by whom? I’m told by the shop…

I call the shop and ask them to send me the amount owed.. At the time I’m thinking, “No big deal.”

Here begins the saga.

The insurance company hasn’t paid everything the shop thinks they should have. So they’re holding onto the money. Eventually the shop stops returning my phone calls and emails and I think they’re just hoping I’ll go away.

They don’t know me very well.

I keep trying to be reasonable, and they keep blowing me off. This goes on for months, until I happen to need some things from the dealership.

While I’m there, I ask to speak with the General Manager of the Dealership and explain the situation. I’m polite, I’m reasonable, and I tell him that I, as a customer shouldn’t be embroiled in their insurance battles or their personnel issues. Those things are none of my concern.

He agrees and says he’ll look into it. Shortly thereafter I start getting notices from the insurance company that supplemental claims are being opened. Knowing what little I know fo the way the process works I figured that it’s just the shop and the insurance company’s way of dealing with the disputed amounts and ignore the notifications.

Again, that’s none of my concern.

Yesterday afternoon I get a call from the insurance company asking where my car is.

Hmmm. It’s in my garage last time I looked.

The very sweet lady is clearly confused. I explain what I believe to be the truth of the situation and direct her to scans of the final invoice, and email communications where I’d done the math and explained what I was expecting from them. She reviews the documents and says first, that it’s nice that I’d sent all the supporting documentation to them. Usually, it’s a situation of “he said / she said”.

I tell her that I’m all about keeping everyone in the loop and that this way the insurance company knows that I held up my end of the bargain, (paying my deductible and covering additional expenses that I’d authorized). I tell her that what I’m looking for is to extricate myself from the machinations of the insurance company and the shop.

She agrees and laughs when I tell her, “I just want to tap dance away from the mess.”

She thanks me for explaining it to her, and says that she’ll see what she can do.

I hang up the phone as I have many times thinking, “I appreciate her efforts, but doubt anything will come of it.”

About 20 minutes later I get a notification that I have another email from the insurance company. It says that a check has been issued. I’m thinking, “Huh, that’s neat but I’ve been here before.”

5 Minutes later the sweet young lady calls me back and verbally confirms that the check is being mailed and that I should see it in 5 to 7 days. I thank her profusely for her efforts.

10 minutes later there’s another email notification saying that another check is being sent to me. This one is for a lot less so I’ll have to see what the insurance company is sending and why.

Hopefully, this will put an end to the whole mess. I will go in for routine maintenance (It’s a different branch of the business) But I’m not going to be having any body work done by that shop in the future. As to additional cars… the jury is still out on that.

Next on the agenda is the donation of two dead trucks for a tax credit.

Trust me you don’t want to know that story!

Who knows? Maybe I’ll just find an old used pickup truck, pay cash for it and drive it into the ground. It would be a lot easier to “Mad Max” a pickup. The way things are going that might be the best option.

The moral of the story is: Be tenacious. Have the documentation. Be certain of what your goal is, and that you’re correct.

Funny, our politicians could learn from item 2 and 3 couldn’t they?