May 29, 2009
Each time I boot up my computer, the first thing to greet my eyes is a view of the farm my husband, without discussing the matter with me, purchased just two years after we pledged our lives to each other. The photo was taken from the two-lane, back country road that led by our farm, and from across a grassy field. At the moment, I am wishing the camera lens had caught the back side of the house instead of the front. I can’t help but stare at the front door protected from the weather by a roof just large enough to have created a screened-in patio on which we could have enjoyed an occasional picnic-style meal while free of the swarming flies during the daylight hours and the mosquitoes at night. Although I ventured the suggestion often enough, I had no reason to think the message reached my intended target; I never received so much as a responding grunt. Ah, but my husband had a surprise waiting me when I came back from a ten-day stay in the hospital after giving birth to our second child, a son, on May the 11th, 1945.
With a sheepish grin, he proudly led me through the kitchen, through the living room, into the hallway, out the front door and … into a closed-in porch with a few small windows through which I could stare at the outside world! My screened-in patio was nothing more than a small room added to an already too large a house to my liking. We continued eating all meals at the only table in the house, the kitchen table.
With the above scenario in mind, I have come to the conclusion that there is but one way to put unpleasant experiences in the background: accept what happened and go on as though whatever it was, never happened. This past week I had to deal with a troublesome situation, but I’ve learned a lesson, one I should have paid attention to from the day my husband died back in 1993. Most of the time, I have. Too late for me but take my advice: if you need two large oak trees removed from your property, never deal with the guy who cuts your lawn and trims a hedge or two, a fellow who owns nothing much more than a riding mower and a hedge trimmer. You will be dealing with someone who deals with the guy who does owns the heavy-duty equipment. You will end up not only paying the guy who owns the equipment but also your “agent” for doing nothing much more than making telephone call or two. Guess in my case, I failed to heed the Yellow Page commercial …”let your fingers do the walking”. I kind of like comparing the matter to the cute little puppy who cautions the television viewer to “be kind to your behind”, only in a case such as mine, … be kind to your check book. Whatever the situation, talk it out
talking is becoming a lost art….
Jodi, I doubt that talking ever was an “art”. Talking emplies coming to an understanding of a given situation. “Talking”, usually ends up with two people seldom agreening on much of anything.
that’s, talking implies, not emplies …
Why didn’t you call one of your children for a little friendly advice. We will always be ready to help. First of all, always ask what will it cost before telling someone to do the job. Well as they say “Live & Learn” or something like that.
My dear devoted, daughter, Barbie, thou jesteth, doth thou not? Seriously, some three or four, or more years ago, when the two trees were trimmed, I placed the matter in the hands of the same party without a problem ensuing, so had no reason to think anything would go wrong this time.
Oh, well, “live and learn” remains as good a teaching tool as it ever was. Next time, no middle man. Life’s too short to get my panties in a knot over something done and over with.
Your experience with the oak trees reminds me of a column that Shelley and I once read in the New York Times (the link is below). It is a very entertaining essay in which bad contractors are compared with bad boyfriends. The column, in turn, reminded Shelley and me of our own “bad contractor” experiences.
For instance, the contractor we hired to remodel the upstairs made installation errors on every single one of the doors and I am still fixing them (although some are unfixable without major reconstruction). In one case, he hung the door upside down and didn’t even know it. In another, he placed the hinges next to the light switch (one would have had to open the door, enter the darkened room, and feel for the light switch behind the door), even though I had diagramed the door placement and he should have known better (we had the contractor fix that, as well as the upside down one). We have paid off more than one contractor, job unfinished or not finished correctly, just to get that person off of our property!
Enjoy the article. It is funny but true.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/28/fashion/28love.html
Great post. this is what I looking for, thanks
Thanks for the boost, Electric hedge trimmer. I really needed that. At almost 90, I fear I am beginning to wear out, at least bodily and unfortunately, the fact appears to have chipped away at my desire to keep in contact with others. I’m somewhat curious: from where did you get “Electric hedge trimmer?