Happy Tuesday, boos and ghouls. Remember some time back when I thought our house was haunted? Yeah, still is. Or we have an electrical problem. But the ghost theory is more fun. Our “ghost” problem began last night when Lovey went to put some garbage into the can that’s in the garage. Upon coming back into the house, he commented that it was strange that the garage door was open. Yes, strange indeed.
This morning, upon rising from slumber, I checked the door, and what do you know? Open again. And quite cold in the garage. Ok, door back down. Lovey off to work. 8 am door check: good. 9 am door check: good. 10 am door check: open. DAMMIT! WHY?!?!?!
Made a call to the folks who installed the garage door. To say that the woman who answered the phone wasn’t helpful is a pretty strong understatement. The point that she got across with the most clarity is that they wouldn’t be sending anyone out to look at it. So, I get it, I work in IT, I understand that when I have a problem that I cannot replicate it is hard, if not impossible to troubleshoot. However, necessary to throw other folks under the bus and reiterate on several occasions that you won’t be coming out? Nope. Glad I don’t have to deal with them.
Instead, I turn to my BFF, Google. Being the BFF that it is, Google gave me quite a few things to try to get this problem figured out. Fortunately, we live in a super low crime area, aka a retirement community, where I don’t think anyone farts without the neighborhood being aware. Randomly opening garage doors are a reason I’m happy to live here. A loaded 9mm, and scary assault rifles and shotguns are why I’m not afraid to live here. Bang, bang, I shot you down. (On the real, I hope I never have to do that. I never want to end a life, or even injure someone. I was bummed for a week when I hit a bunny with my car when I was younger.) Currently, still working on working this out. Boy is it annoying.
Made it successfully through day 2 of the self-created workout program. So much legs. So much jelly trying to get back up the stairs. Man, am I getting old. But, don’t tell anyone, least of all me, because I insist on continuing to act like I’m 25 even though my body is sayin, “Hey bitch, you wanna make some real fucking money?” Ha, no, Butters, really it’s just wanting me to take it easy a bit. But no. Snowboard season is coming up and either I prepare now or I pay some dire consequences once we hit the mountain. Be prepared!
And with that, you know what? I’m out. Still tons to do today. Peace!