This week has been one of those weeks.
Meetings, drama and trying to capture Mr Nichols has sucked up virtually all my time. My “9 to 5″ didn’t help either.
I’ll be back on Monday with more stuff.
Jingle Jingle Jingle
For the past month, this noise constantly wakes me up at all hours. Jingle Jingle Jingle. At first I thought it was Santa Claus, making an early run. But since no lumps of coal appeared, I’ll assume it isn’t.
At 2 o’clock, from my deep dark dreams I hear “jingle jingle jingle” coming from outside my window. I rip it open, search frantically but see nothing. Night after night, sometimes 2 and 3 times a night. Weeks have passed and uninterrupted, peaceful sleep eludes me.
Jingle Jingle Jingle
Trace evidence is always left behind. Poop. I believe every animal within the confines of our neighborhood now believes my yard is a litter box. Contrary to popular belief animal poop is not nice on the olfactory receptors. Potential tenants or buyers would have to be in a vegetative state in order to miss it.
One day I was chatting with the neighbor lady. Let’s call her Yoga. We were standing in my driveway.
Yoga: “Yeah and parking here is a real bear at night blah blah blah my toe nails are blue yak yak yak my car has four tires blah blah blah-”
Jingle Jingle Jingle.
My ears perked up. During the day? The jingles are during the day? Frantically I started searching. Where did it come from? Under my car? Behind the rose bushes?
Jingle Jingle Jingle
“Did you hear that?!?” I screamed. “Where did that noise come from? Behind the fence? Under the porch?”
“What noise?”
Jingle Jingle Jingle
“That!!! HEHE!! That jingling! It must be here!”
“That? Oh that’s Mr. Nichols.”
“What the heck is a Mr. Nichols? Is it like a ventriloquist dummy? Or like a tickle-my-butt Elmo?”
“Mr. Nichols is my cat. I got him that collar so I would know where he’s at. OK I gotta run!”
Evidence of Mr Nichols can be found everywhere. My yard has become a giant litter box. Smells real nice when perspective buyers show up.
Someone once said that Batman and Superman are more than just superheros to little boys. They are also career choices. Leaving the iMax the other night, I found myself wanting to jump off rooftops wearing a cowl and cape.
The Dark Knight is the sequel actually worth watching this year. Indy 4 sucked. Admittedly I have not seen “X-Files: I want to Throwup” but I’m burned out on the whole Muldor-Scully alien story line. And since the pitiful Mamma Mia! beat it bad, I’m not alone.
Joker and The Batman
The Dark Knight is perhaps the darkest, most evil movie I have ever seen. No, we’re not discussing the level of violence or brutality, which does exist in spades. This movie is evil for taking us completely out of our comfort zone, to the realm where ethics and morals no longer exist, and then asks us to make a choice. This choice will result in the death of a loved one. Or ourselves. Each of the main characters, all good people with good intentions, must make that choice and the outcome of each surprised me. And the outcomes were not good.
In an imperfect world the ethical, moral and right choice very seldom line up. Sometimes, the right choice directly conflicts with the ethical choice. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
Batman gets beaten, bloodied and bruised. His equipment does fail; he does have accidents. The level of reality is quite refreshing.
Unlike Lucas or Spielberg, the director Nolan actually has a sense of taste. CGI graphics are far and few between.
Luckily, an iMax theatre resides in my neck of the woods. Watching the Dark Knight on a 10-story screen with 12,000 watts of sound forces you into the movie. During one scene I was so entranced that I screamed, losing a shoe. That is due to the cinematography, the incredible dialogue, the phenomenal acting. This movie could begin to restore my faith in Hollyweird actually producing quality films.
This is not the Adam West/Burt Ward Joker. This is not Jack Nicholsons Joker. Shoot, that Joker I’d probably pay money for to watch his standup routine. Ledger’s Joker scares the daylights out of us. This is the real Joker, directly from the comic-book. Why any parent would take their 4 year old to watch this film is beyond me.
I’ll be one of those people, slapping down another $10 to see this film. I know a good portion of the film slipped by me.
If I could just find my shoe.
The names in the following true story have been changed to protect the guilty as sin innocent.
With the tenant moving into Project#1, some last minute tinkering was required. One item in particular was the back door. The hole for the door knob was gone. Rabid wood-peckers and crack-filled termites munched away the area to the point where the knob barely stayed in place. When I first purchased the home, all the deadbolts and door knobs were changed to the schlage lock. At that time, the degradation was not that bad. This would have been a problem sooner or later.
Having to replace the entire door was not something I wanted to do. But I didn’t want the tenant to move in sans doorknob. A wood door with a window costs around $200 (without installation). I prepared for the worst.
This guy I know, let’s call him Shifty, said he could do the door for me. He has done work for me before. On the cheap. I figured this was a no-brainer. The job was his and away he went. When complete, I asked him to re-install the doorknob which I had removed and placed on the counter next to the door.
He didn’t replace the door. Instead he replaced the section of door that was bad. And what a fine job he did. You would never know any work had been done.
“$50” he quoted me.
Giggling like a school girl, and relieved out of my skull, I paid him the $50. He saved me about $250. Who wouldn’t be giddy? Then that’s where the problem began.
“Your door knob no working.”
Then I noticed: the door knob was not the schlage door knob. It was some other door knob.
Clifford: This isn’t my door knob. Where’s my door knob?
Shifty: This it!
Clifford: All these locks work to this key. See? This key doesn’t fit in the door knob. This isn’t mine.
Shifty: Dunno, Mr Cleep. This is doorknob on the counter!
Why in the world would he steal my door knob? Makes no sense. He offered to buy me a replacement door knob. I declined. A new door knob ($30) would require a locksmith ($70) to re-key it to fit with the other locks.
But why steal the knob?
For fear of him having a key made that would work in all the locks, I replaced all the deadbolts with new ones. Bruce show-cased the Kwikset Smart Key the other day which I’m trying out. They advertise you can re-key all your locks within 30 seconds to new keys, without a locksmith. This seems perfect for rentals.
On my recent trip back to the mosquito Great Lake State of Michigan, my sister was showing off her”work in progress” . . . a beautiful four bedroom log cabin.
Neither my sister nor her husband are in shape to build such a cabin. A contractor must be involved. Odds are I wouldn’t know their contractor personally. But I asked anyway.
“He’s Amish.”
Mr. Tim wrote this piece last week, discussing the Amish. The timing of my conversation couldn’t have been better. The cabin was too well constructed for someone to have done it by hand. Oh sure you could argue the ancient pyramids were too well constructed without power tools so it is feasible. But my counterpoint is the Egyptians had Aliens to help them. My sister and her brother do not.
So the questions poured forth. Is it the whole Amish community helping? How does he get from his farm to their house? How do they call if there is a problem? How did they find him in the first place? Does he have a beard and resemble Weird Al?
Certainly no gaffes could be said about his work. The cabin itself was gorgeous. Set upon a basement, the two story four bedroom “house” had incredible views of the land around it. The near wrap-around decks provided plenty of outdoor seating. Yes it bothers me to not have photos to share with the class.
When my sister announced a September finish, logic dictated power tools had to be in use. And they were. Amish can use power tools; they just can’t own them. My sister also seemed quite proud of the fact that their Amish contractor was charging a 1/3 of what other contractors were charging. So far he had kept with that quote. Payments have been distributed, based on certain projects being completed.
She mentioned something I thought was rather funny. “Don’t be fooled Cliff. Those Amish got money.”
If the guy is charging 1/3 of what others are charging, I fail to see how that could possibly be. Then the light bulb went on. No overhead. The new Mercedes S-Class doesn’t even exist in a culture of buggies. The sense of fashion hasn’t changed in decades. Credit cards are a tool of the devil. What real expenses do they face?
Not many.
For having the Amish contractor, his greatest drawback happens to be the same saving grace. Since he doesn’t have a car, he needs a ride to work everyday. Yes it is a pain to pick him up every day. But at least he shows up and works all day.
