Envy

My friend Mark was going to the shore with his family and asked me to watch the cat. He walked me through the detailed instructions he had typed and, just before we parted ways, handed me his house remote controlled key fob.

I pretended like it wasn't a big deal to have such fancy accessories and told him not to worry, everything was going to be fine.

The next day I made my way over to Mark's, key fob confidently in hand. I climbed the steps and pressed "unlock" twice. A whirr, then a click, then a beep told me I was safe to enter. I had exactly 45 seconds to make it to the keypad in the kitchen and press in the safety code before the alarm would sound.

Success.*

Now, to find the cat.**

With Muffins MIA I proceeded as instructed and filled the bowl with exactly 2/3 cup of her weight control cat food, making sure to reseal the bag with the provided chip clip. Her water bowls were still full, but bullet point number two in the instructions said to rinse them out and fill with fresh tap water. I did it all while admiring Mark's immaculate kitchen.

Now to the basement for the litter box. While unfinished, the space was huge and the ever important, DRY. The litter box was on a little rug and scoop had no stains. There was little scooping even needed. Muffins was either very tidy or constipated. Either way, it made my job easy. When finished, I was careful not to close the basement door. As all cat owners know, if a cat can't get to the litter box, they do still poop. Well, maybe not Muffins, but she's a rare case.

My services were done and it was time to go. I pressed the safety code again, a robot voice told me it was cool to leave, and with that, I pressed lock twice on the remote.

Done. Easy.

Then the mental and emotional turmoil set in. My kitchen is a mess. My basement is wet. My cat poops ALL THE TIME! I've got a good old fashioned case of the jealousies. And I'm so embarrassed of what Mark might think of my house, that I'll never ask him to return the favor.

*Success = cops didn't show up.

**I never found the cat.

I Have Fans!

My cousin Geoff used to work for Lowe's. I loved him more then. During that time I took advantage of his employee discount and bought two ceiling fans, one for the kitchen and one for the living room.

Recently my dad helped me hang the fan in the kitchen. It was easy and wonderful. Then came the living room. It is still not done.

This was a true "Bartleby" moment.

Me: Why can't we just hang the fan like the other one?

Dad: Because there isn't any electricity in the ceiling here.

Me: You're funny dad.

Dad: Seriously, the wire running across your ceiling is plugged into the outlet down here. And Bartleby hung the fan on this big hook he screwed into the middle of the ceiling.

(silence)

Dad: Kelly, are you okay?

Me: Bartleby!!!!!

So, we went to Lowe's with the plan to buy new wire and cover it with a plastic tube-like casing thing called a conduit. The wire would then be "up to code", a term I've learned to hate.

The conversation with a Lowe's employee named Mark went something like this:

Me: ...and that's why we need to re-wire my living room for a new ceiling fan.

Mark: Do you want my professional advice?

Me: Yes.

Mark: Don't do it.

Me: Okay, but, if we do do it, what will we need to get?

Mark: I can't recommend this.

Me: I know, but IF you did, what would you tell us to get?

Mark: This is not a good idea.

Me: I know, but IF you happen to accidentally point us toward the parts we'll need, what isle would you point to?

(silence)

Mark: That way.

Me: You're a peach Mark. A real peach.

For the record, my dad is super smart and super honest, so in the end, we ended up following all the rules. This included fishing wire through my stupid plaster ceiling (for which you need a metal wire-fishing tool) and running a whole new wire from the electrical box in the basement. This is apparently called "grounding" and involves making sure all the electricity around the area you're working on is turned off. It also apparently involves pretending to get electrocutes so your daughter completely freaks out.

In the end, there was just way more work to do than we ever could have predicted.

For now, the old fan is back up and loosely dangling from it's hook in the middle of the ceiling. The new fan is back in the box. The holes in the ceiling have yet to be patched. The new "grounded" wire is dangling down the wall waiting to be spliced into the outlet. And I'm counting down the days until my dad comes to visit again.