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Apr. 6th, 2018 11:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sacramentalistMy adjuster and restoration company are both annoyed with me dragging out my basement repairs. Honestly, I am paralyzed with fear in making a mistake. Every decision leads to more decisions, and I just can't even.
I also don't like the idea of strangers coming in and out of my house at will for 3 weeks.
First, there's the cats... who I guess I'll have to lock in a bedroom every day for 3 weeks.
Second, my stuff. I have so much shit, I wouldn't even know it was missing, unless I can't find it and I'll blame them. I suspect the tear-out crew stole all my D&D books.
Third, they're going judge my home.
I actually signed the paperwork for the repair and paid the deductible, yesterday. While signing the cheque, some guy popped his head out from the back to talk to the person in the office. He was a big guy and his stare was creepy intense. Ed Kemper or the BTK Killer going to be in my home for three weeks? Or maybe he's just a miserable judgemental asshole, unlike me, apparently.
Anyway, I signed the stuff and I'm committed and now they want to know if I picked the laminate flooring I want. Fuck! I don't care. My wife doesn't care. Just don't make me pick anything. But don't rip me off, y'know?
And I still have to price all my stuff to claim property damage. I'm pretty much willing to pay someone else to be the adult for this. I was literally in tears about this last week, I was so wound up about it. I was talking about it to my wife and just freaked out sobbing and told her I don't want to talk anymore and hung up. So now she's trying to be supportive, which I appreciate, but she's out of practice and awkward.
Tune in soon for the continuing saga of "Steve wants to buy a car but which one?"
I also don't like the idea of strangers coming in and out of my house at will for 3 weeks.
First, there's the cats... who I guess I'll have to lock in a bedroom every day for 3 weeks.
Second, my stuff. I have so much shit, I wouldn't even know it was missing, unless I can't find it and I'll blame them. I suspect the tear-out crew stole all my D&D books.
Third, they're going judge my home.
I actually signed the paperwork for the repair and paid the deductible, yesterday. While signing the cheque, some guy popped his head out from the back to talk to the person in the office. He was a big guy and his stare was creepy intense. Ed Kemper or the BTK Killer going to be in my home for three weeks? Or maybe he's just a miserable judgemental asshole, unlike me, apparently.
Anyway, I signed the stuff and I'm committed and now they want to know if I picked the laminate flooring I want. Fuck! I don't care. My wife doesn't care. Just don't make me pick anything. But don't rip me off, y'know?
And I still have to price all my stuff to claim property damage. I'm pretty much willing to pay someone else to be the adult for this. I was literally in tears about this last week, I was so wound up about it. I was talking about it to my wife and just freaked out sobbing and told her I don't want to talk anymore and hung up. So now she's trying to be supportive, which I appreciate, but she's out of practice and awkward.
Tune in soon for the continuing saga of "Steve wants to buy a car but which one?"
