House stuff.

Well, this last week has been insulation week. A boring step, but a necessary one, especially with the cold Utah weather rolling in.

Sam has been working two jobs, one a graveyard shift, so he is rarely home, which leaves him scratching his head to my frequent break-downs.

"Honey, when the boys pee, it freezes before it hits the bowl. When did you say the insulation was coming?" (this of course muffled by my sweatsuit and parka)

My dishwasher chops food particles into a fine mist and sprays them evenly over all the dishes in the cycle.

The doorbell isn't hooked up. No one knows this, and stands on my porch, ringing and ringing, until telepathically I feel them there.

My washer is possessed by the devil. Periodically it just stops, for no apparent reason, and I have to slam my fist down on the lid in the top left-hand corner to get it going again. The repair man came out, and it worked like a charm for him.

These are things I work around. But Tuesday took the cake. I had some insulation guys show up. Sam had gotten home at 4:30 am and was in bed. So I answered the door. They were a couple of hispanic workers. I have no problem with this, I *do* however have a problem with the fact that they didn't understand a word I was saying to them. They looked at me with that doe-eyed blank look, and then turned to each other and rattled something off in Spanish.

I am racking my brain trying to conjure up Spanish words that I know. I can count, and I know the months of the year, and how to say things not remotely related to "garage" or "power source" or "in addition to the original bid." Nothing is helpful. I tried hand-gestures and pointing...and finally, defeated, I went up and woke Sam, who speaks fluent Spanish.

He got dressed, and stumbled down, bleary-eyed.

Ten minutes later he came back upstairs.

"Why didn't you just tell them to open the garage, and start on the back wall?"
"Because I don't speak Spanish."
"Well, they were speaking English to me."

Whaaaaa?
They were playing DUMB with me??

Back that bus up.

Sam started out speaking Spanish, and that broke the ice, I guess, and made them remember that they really do understand and speak the English language.

It made me mad. So I left. I wandered around Target, and Costco, and the local scrapbook store. And then stopped in my Mom's house to kill more time.

And when I came home, the insulation was done.

And I have some new dishcloths and a pair of shoes and some Fancy Pants chipboard letters.


Que tenga un buen día!