[190] Screed City

[190]

09/01/2022 Thursday. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, at long last I did it. Well, most. I miscalculated somehow, but it doesn't matter, the most important part got done. The wall behind the kitchen is officially insulated. I mean, my miscalculation was a simple one. I multiplied to get square feet instead of cubic feet. Or, more like, I got the cubic foot measurements, I just didn't divide in the proper manner. I should have gotten 1, 25lb bag for every two feet, twice instead of once. If that makes sense. Butwhatever. That piece of insulation was the most important, and we can do the attic in mid-October. I mean, I bought 15 bags of the stuff. I think I needed eight more. But then again, I couldn't have fit them in the truck anyway. I maybe could have gotten two more.

I mean, it was quite the job. Getting ready took about six hours. Which I did yesterday and the day before. I had to strip all the old insulation. Fill all the holes and cracks. The one big vermin hole. And the giant hole that Stony Mike left gaping. That fucker. The New Landlord called him today, a blessing that became a curse. Remember how he was trying to squat the space before we moved in? How he was pissed that we were moving in because he was living here? I mean, who does that? But the work was dirty and itchy and loud and cramped and itchy. Did I mention it was itchy too? Fogged glasses, long sleeved shirt buttoned to the gills. Gloves. Future Abe’s. I mean, it sucked, but what can you do? It got done and it was worth it to do. I mean, we'll see. I mean, behind that wall there was a burst water pipe. Which, I don't know when it happened, there was no water damage. But it did happen at some point. And all the electrical stuff was new. Which, I think that Stony Mike did do the bare minimum with the insulation there. But he would have seen what a huge space there was. Between the house and the haunted part. I guess he just ignored it? I mean, I don't even know. This house needs a complete insulation redo. But for now, there is 13 bags of fiber fill in-between the two spaces. So that is good. I mean, I heard a vermin scratching around behind the walls in the kitchen earlier today. Which means I think I trapped the fucker in. Good luck starving to death, you prick!

I mean, I got up early today with the idea that I would go to Rutland and rent a insulation blower and buy 13 bags of fiber fill. I did some texting around and found out I could borrow the truck at 9a. So I got ready, did some things. Went over to the New Landlords house to get the truck. He said the New Landlady would be there. With keys. She had thrown her back out, so she wasn't working today. I mean, I drove there with Professor Curly. Her car has been at JD's the last few days. Getting inspected. Something is fishy so they needed to order a part or something, but it wasn't going to come in until Monday, so she was advised to drive the car around for some reason. I mean, I was going to drop her off on the way to Rutland. I mean, we got to the New Landlords house. I knocked and knocked. Nothing doing. I went back to the car where Professor Curly was waiting. Luckily she had cell service so we were able to call the New Landlord. He said the New Landlady was probably in the bathroom. I said I assumed she had taken a pain killer and was passed the fuck out. But he said that was unlikely and he would call her. He did. She came to the front door in a towel. Wet from the shower. It was slightly erotic. She gave me the keys. One key to move the one car, the other key for the truck. I moved the one car. Moved Junior Mint to behind it. Me and PC got in the truck. Then the key wouldn't work. I tried and tried, wondering what I was missing. I gave up. Went back up to the house. Knocked on the door. The New Landlady once again came to the door in a towel. This time she was less wet, but still glistening, I guess she had been shining up her skin in between the last time? Or whatever it is that chicks do after they take a shower. Lotioning. I mean, she fumbled around this time looking for the other key. It was slightly precarious though, I really thought she might do a towel drop thing. I mean, you never know with these hippies. But she managed to find the key without exposing herself. I took the key back to the truck. Got in. Had the same problem, but this time I was able to move the steering wheel around to get the key to turn. And that was that. We hit the skids.

When we got to JD's, Professor Curly got out. I mean, this truck. A dual cab Toyota. With a crowbar for a stick shift. Or whatever they call it with automatics. I mean, comically large. I thought I put the truck in park. I hadn't. I let my foot off the brake and nearly ran PC over. She screamed. Then she yelled: "What are you doing!?" I said it was an accident. And I meant it. It was an accident. JD saw it happen. He yelled: "I got it on tape! Security cameras!" Then he laughed. He was sitting down. Behind a desk. The door was open. I yelled: "It was an accident! I swear." PC went inside. Got her key. And was good to go. I said smell ya and hit the skids.

I got to Rochester and there was construction. I pulled into the gas station to get gas. The truck had a quarter tank, but I didn't want to risk it. I got gas and got on the road. Catching the flagger at just the right moment that I didn't have to stop. I got out of town. Was thinking I should take the Brandon Gap. I really was getting pulled that way, but I chose not to, for some reason. And I would regret that decision for the rest of my life. Just joking, but I immediately regretted that decision, because I turned the corner and was met with some major construction. The flagger holding a stop sign. I mean, she looked quite bored. Which was not a good sign. I was first in line and I could see the next flagger, but there was no traffic coming, so that was also a bad sign. Something was up. Like I was going to be waiting for quite some time. And I was right. A few minutes went by. The flagger took a smoke out. Lit it. Kind of looked around. A work truck pulled in behind me and didn't go around. That was also a bad sign. Then there was a sudden and frantic honking behind me. Then a car with Mass-hole plates came screeching to a halt next to me. The flagger tried to get him to back up and get behind the work truck. But the driver got out and told him to pull in front of me. Then he proceeded to berate the poor idiot for a good five minutes about the reason you should drive safely in construction zones. I mean, when he walked back by me I said: "What can you do?" And he said: "What can you do? Nothing, that is what." He was pissed. About ten minutes later traffic finally came our way. And in another bad sign, the line of cars was very long. Like 30 cars in total. I was starting to think it would be some time before I was getting to Rutland. I mean, the smoking flagger got replaced by a different flagger. He waited and waited and waited. Then finally he turned his stop sign around to a slow sign and the Mass-hole took off. Slow as a snail. I mean, typical. You drive like an asshole. Get caught. Get chastised and then you over-compensate. I mean, it was insane how careful he was being. Super cautious. He was yielding to any moving machinery, even when it was obvious that he didn't need to. He would stop for a few moments at a time, for no apparent reason. Then when the construction was done, he drove 30 mph. And then when the construction started up again, he slowed down even more. I mean, it was incredibly frustrating. All I could think was; had he not pulled that dick move, I would me miles ahead of where I am now. But no, now I am stuck behind a guilt-ridden Mass-hole. I mean, luckily he turned left when I turned right, so somebody else would have to deal with his bullshit now.

I mean, the rest of the trip to Rutland was uneventful. I made decent time. Kind of. I got there at 10:45a. 45 minutes later than I wanted to. Butwhatever. I was going to Home Depot, a thing that always takes longer than you want it to. I parked and went inside. Walked the entire store. Then went out the second entrance. I found the flat cart I had been looking for when I walked inside in the first place. I mean, why is it that after all these millions of years that Home Depot has been around they haven't figured out a better system for their carts? It's such a every man for himself system. And it makes me annoyed every single time. I mean, how is a free for all cart policy there? I mean, the amount of time employees waste telling customers where to find carts, I mean, you'd think they would do like a spread sheet thing and find out that employee time wasted answering this question would warrant having an employee dedicated to just making sure carts are available at the front doors, right? I mean, unless that is part of their scheme. Like a casino or something. Like if you are willing to find a cart, then you are willing to spend money or something, but if you need a cart in the first place, you have already committed to spending money anyway. I mean, I don't know how many times I have bought fewer things at Home Depot merely because I couldn't find the cart I needed, so, anecdotally, I mean, they lose my business by keeping this policy. And I can't be the only one, right?

I mean, I pushed the cart back inside. Slowly found the insulation area. Did a look-see to get what I wanted to get. I stacked 15 insulation cubes on the cart. Maxing it out. I mean, I probably could have gotten five more, if I was feeling ambitious, but I wasn't. It was already three more than I thought I needed. I pushed the overloaded cart down the aisles. Looking for a head lamp. I have needed a new one for months now. And I needed one now to finish this job, so I spent the time finding it. I mean, it was in the last place I thought to look. But I found it. I mean, I spent 10 minutes deciding what to buy. The price range was kind of astonishing. From $10 dollars to over $100 dollars. In the end I got the cheapest one that wasn't the worst one. I was looking for one that recharged on USB. But I couldn't find it. They all had either battery operation or rechargeable battery operation. The one I picked came with batteries included. Which is what swayed me. I mean, I then asked the gal at the self-check-out where the rental place was. She told me it was customer service. I thanked her and pushed the overloaded cart to the customer service. I waited and waited. Even though I was the only one in line. Finally the youngster of the group, a seemingly hip early twenties cool chick with blue fingernails beckoned me over. I pushed my cart in front of her. I said:

"Hi, I am looking to rent a blower." She looked at me. Then at my cart. I looked at her. Then at the sash she was wearing. It said: "It's My Birthday!" The thing was sequined and gold.

She said: "An insulation blower?"

I said: "Yes." Then had one of those moments that I have often in hardware stores. Where I ask for something but leave a crucial bit of information out and the person always qualifies my question and I have to sheepishly admit that I am an idiot for not saying the thing right. On the other hand, there is no way in hell this person had ever used an insulation blower. I mean, I never have, and I have been doing this kind of shit for 25 years at this point. So it was kind of a strange stand-off. Butwhatever. She asked me for my phone number. Then my driver's license. Then she told me there was a $250 dollar deposit and asked me how long I wanted to rent the thing for.

I said: "What are my options?"

She said: "Four hours is $120 dollars, 24 hours is $150 dollars."

I said: "24 hours then. What happens if I need it longer?"

She said: "Oh, you just call us and we can extend it." Then she had me put my card in. Sign something. She printed out a thing. Highlighted that I had until 11:06a tomorrow to bring the thing back.

I said: "Can I pay for this stuff now? Or..."

She said: "Oh, yeah, it's just a different transaction." Then she came out from behind the desk and scanned the insulation. The head lamp. Then she had me pay.

I said: "And now where do I go?"

She said: "Go over to Pro, they will sort you out."

I said: "Thanks! And happy birthday!"

She said: "Aw, thank you!" And she meant it. I mean, I kind of felt bad for her. Working at Home Depot on her birthday. Wearing a sash. But maybe she was into it? Maybe they give you extra bucks if you work on your birthday there? I mean, it's not like there was anything else to do. I mean, this is Rutland after all. I mean, what are the options? Smoke pot and go to the Taco Bell?

I mean, I pushed my overloaded cart to the Pro kiosk. Stood there for ten minutes. Thinking: "Okay, what if I only got this rental for four hours? I mean, here I am standing in line for ten minutes, then what? I still need to get the thing. It still needs to get loaded in the truck. It could be thirty minutes before I even get out of the parking lot. What a rip-off! A four hour rental minus thirty minutes. And what happens when I bring it back? Do I need to factor that in as well? Like add an extra thirty minutes? And travel? I mean, in the end the four hour rental is more like a two and a half hour rental." I mean, right? Either way, the guy finally had me come over. I showed him my paper work.

He said: "And who gave you this thing? Did they call anyone or anything?"

I said: "No, she just told me to come to you and you would solve all of my problems." I mean, I was being hyperbolic, but it was lost on the guy.

He said: "Of course she did." I looked over at this state of the art insulation blower over in the corner.

I said: "Is that the thing?" He looked at my stack of fiber fill.

He said: "Not for you, it isn't. Did you pay for that already?"

I said: "Yes." I mean, he didn't even bother to check. I mean, not that I would have, but I could have. I mean, between that and the impossible carts, I wonder how these people make any money at all. I mean, I guess. I do think it is a social experiment in the end. Like they are just fucking with us. Seeing what we will put up with before we break. I mean, if that is true, I respect the hell out of them. Because they are making money hand over fist with our collective ability to enact psychological harm upon ourselves. I mean, Home Depot is a lawless place. Yet somehow, Society stays together within their walls. I mean, when he left to go get the thing, when he said to his coworker: "I need a insulation blower to me transferred to a truck." And the guy that was supposed to do the transferring said: "Oh, yeah, and who is going to do this inventory?" And the guy just shrugged. And I stood there for a second. Then I realized I should go get the truck. So I walked over to them getting the thing. To ask if I should go get the truck. And the thing was on a pallet. And it looked like something the Wile E. Coyote would buy from ACME. I mean, I suddenly knew who I was dealing with. I mean, I had to laugh. The thing was a behemoth. I said: "I should get my truck, yeah?" The guy, who was now holding two high viz flags, waving the fork lift forward looked at me and nodded. Then he said: "Park under the awning." I walked outside. The "Awning" was basically a loading dock. I went and got the truck. Parked it under the awning. Went inside and pushed my overloaded cart out to the truck. Started loading the bags into the back seat. Then the loading dock garage door opened. The man with the flags directed the man driving the fork lift, who was supposed to be doing inventory over to the back of the truck. I put the tail gate down. I mean, he put the thing in the back. And it fit very well. There were also two rubber-style trash cans filled with hoses on the pallet. I mean, I forgot the part earlier when the girls with the birthday and the blue nails asked me:

"Do you want any accessories?"

I said: "Like what? What is an accessory?"

And she said: "I don't know, like a hose bag."

I said: "Well, I want the hoses if that is what you are asking."

And she said: "I will give you the hose bag, but you can sort it out over there."

A hose bag? I mean, the receipt said I asked for a hose bag. But I did not get a hose bag. I still have no idea what a hose bag is. But they didn't charge me for it. I mean, whatever.

I mean, they loaded the thing in the back of the truck. I thanked them. They told me to have a good one. I shut the tail gate. Loaded the empty spaces with the insulation. I mean, luckily there was enough room. Because I don't know what I would have done if I needed more space. I didn't have ratchet straps or anything. I guess I would have had to returned the extra stuff? Which would have stank. But as it was, I was perfect. I mean, I got in the truck. Drove into town. Took a right on VT 7 and headed to Brandon. To the Brandon Gap. I wasn't going to deal with the construction again. I mean, I took the route I should have taken to begin with. The pretty route. The route my instincts were telling me to take. I mean, I drove for a while. Got to Brandon. Took a right on VT 73. Went over the Gap. And then, like some sort of instant karma, I was stuck behind a truck painting lines on the highway. I mean, that is the worst kind of truck to be stuck behind. You can't go around, because of wet paint. You just have to sit there and take it. I mean, had I not been stuck behind that Masshole, I would have had the extra five minutes I needed to be ahead of these guys, but here I was, slow as a snail. I mean, it was nice, I won't lie. That Gap. Pretty as shit. But still, I had work to do! Damn it. I mean, luckily eventually there was a pull-off and the painting truck let me go around the outside, but had that not come around, I would have been stuck there until they emptied those 50 gallons of paint before I would have been freed. I mean, it was kind of insane. But I got free. Made it back to Rochester. Hit that construction. Then was free of that and got back home just in time for lunch.

I mean, I won't lie. Lunch was fantastic. Tacos and black beans. Even Professor Curly came out from her editing room to eat. And then I spent the next hour and a half getting ready for the New Landlord to show up and help me do this thing. I mean, it was a two person job. One guy loading the insulation into the thing and the other guy handling the hose. I mean, he was supposed to show up at 3p. He showed up at 3:30p. With a six pack of beer. I mean, Vermont-style to the max. I mean, the littlest amount of work is such a tragedy. I mean, I didn't mind at all, but I did think it was funny. I mean, he asked me if I wanted one.

I said: "I'm okay, I don't really drink when it is light out." What I meant was; I am hoping to get this done and then drive the rented insulation back to Rutland before dark. And drinking beer will not help that happen. He got sheepish though.

He said: "Well, you don't mind if I..."

I said: "Oh, not at all! In fact, I will stand here and watch you shotgun all six of those beers if you want." I mean, he drank two of them before we even got started. I mean. can I give you an etiquette lesson is tool rental? If you are renting an insulation blower, do me a favor, make sure the pipes are empty before you return the thing. Just do it. I mean, you are already there. There is nothing easier than just making sure the hoses are empty before you return it. I mean, otherwise the next person has to spend half an hour if not more, troubleshooting the mess you leave them with. It is common courtesy. I mean, c'mon. I mean, me and the New Landlord were rearing to go. I had done almost all of the leg work. Ran the hoses. Got the thing plugged in. I mean, all that needed to happen was for us to hit the switch and an hour later we would be done. But no. Some asshole had clogged the pipes and then sent it back to the Home Depot clogged as an elderly cat. I mean, I don't even know what I mean. But the very simple and short job we were doing turned into a three hour mess because of this very simple thing.

I mean, we had to test every section of hosing. Tape, re-tape the connections. I mean, sure, this ancient machine could use some fine tuning, but still, none of it was our fault. It was the asshole before us that decided at the very last second to pay it forward. I mean, either they had gotten a clogged pipe themselves and were just doing like for like or they really just didn't give a fuck, either way, this very simple job became a pain in the ass quite quickly. I mean, it didn't help that the New Landlord was half-drunk and taking piss breaks when he should have been manning the hopper. I mean, but still, I mean, I was so inundated that I didn't even get a picture of the operation, which I am regretting now. I mean. it was quite the operation. And in the end the job got mostly done. The important part got done for certain. I mean, in the end the New Landlord drank four of those beers. The wall between the house and the haunted part of the house got filled up. I mean, that stuff is going to settle over time, and I don't know what to do about that, but for now, I think we did a good job. Two feet of insulation between the two places seems okay. Plus I trapped that idiot vermin. Which is good.

I mean, tomorrow the New Landlord is supposed to bring the rented insulation blower back. I sure hope he does. That shit is on my card. I mean, he is getting a pretty hefty bill from me about this. Which, I mean, sadly, it will just be money taken off of the gas bill from last Winter, but at least there is a one to one correlation. That, in theory, will help my heating bill this Winter. I mean, whatever. I mean, I need to ditch. Tomorrow I have to bake all day. I don't have a photo to tie the room together, but maybe I have something in the archives.

[Insert Archive Photo]