Crawling Through Space, or Construction Karma, Part 5,201

You can't imagine how much it irritates me that I'm still working on getting my crawlspace fixed and sealed. At the onset of fall I discovered my heating system was making me miserably ill. I called too many heating specialists only to be told by most their area didn't include the edge of civilization. I finally found one who arrived with the goal of selling me a brand new very expensive heating system. I thought I hired him for an inspection. Since my heating system works, there are no rebates and I can't even justify so much expense. I was also told because of the type of furnace and ducts, I can't even get it cleaned. I found a duct sealing person to check the ducts and offer a quote. At that time he also suggested he could clean and seal the crawlspace for me. It's been two months and I guess he changed his mind since he unprofessionally refuses to respond to my emails. This is typical behavior at the edge of civilization.

I called and emailed another ten companies who advertise crawlspace work, but none of them would come to the edge of civilization, so I did what needed to be done and crawled under my house in an attempt to do it myself. Through rat shit, opossum shit, fiberglass insulation, dirt, dust, and spider webs, I took a ShopVac cleaner and vacuumed as much as I could. Unfortunately the ShopVac was too large to go too far as it wouldn't fit under the heat ducts. I used spray foam to seal the holes found between the cement skirt and the house. When I wasn't swearing or screaming, I was crying out of frustration. I completed one quarter of the crawlspace before I gave up. It took me about three hours. My knees were bruised and my lungs were a mess, but this gave me a very realistic idea of what this work entails.

So I lowered my standards and went shopping for a construction worker in the Rathole area. I had no confidence, but I also had no choice unless I wanted to repeat my crawlspace experience. I hired a guy everyone has told me not to hire as he's incompetent, slow, and for every mistake he'll make he'll not only charge you for the time to figure it out, but charge you for all the extra supplies he must replace. Word travels fast in a small community. What was I thinking? I was obviously desperate. A couple people told me he might do well with a very simple project. It's dirty and time-consuming, but it doesn't take a lot of mental ability. I figured if I could do it, anyone could.

He shows up with two teenagers who will be his assistants and expects I will pay all three of them. I assume it will take one third the time. He refused to get under the house. He spends the first two hours arguing with them as they try to explain what it looks like. He offers a couple of substandard ideas on how to get the work done which I reject and we finally come up with a solution. He kept repeating the better solution will take more time and cost me more. He gives me a price $300 to seal the whole crawlspace (the cleaning part was ignored!). I'm fine with that as he doesn't realize I was willing to pay three times that amount to get it done right. He's also offering some elaborate construction plan to block the openings on the west side of the house - this is where Santy Claws front door was located last Christmas. OK! I'm still not confident he knows what he's doing, but it sounds like a good plan. I intend to watch every step they make.

As the project starts, he continues to argue with the teenagers. They seem to know more about construction than he does, but he wants to appear to be the boss. His job is to cut the wood to the dimensions they request. The rest of the time he stands around. Every piece of wood he handles he either cuts it wrong or forgets to cut it, the kids drag it under the house and THEN realize it's wrong, drag it back, it all starts over. Such wasted time. His management of the teenagers is pathetic. Every time he drops something it takes him an eternity to pick it up. Is he just old or is he purposely trying to waste my time? The dollars are flying out of my pocket. So tired of watching everyone stand around arguing, I got under the house and looked at what they were doing. Yeah, they are adding wood to block the open space, but there are still holes big enough for rodents to get in. Eventually I decide it's bad enough watching him stand around, but when the teenagers start standing around, I take over management and tell them exactly what I want done. They complete about 15 feet of crawlspace wall to my specifications. I fire them only I do it so nicely he doesn't realize I just want him off my property. He charges me $253 for 15 feet and exclaims, "See, we came in under the quote!" My mouth dropped open and I replied, "Three hundred dollars was for the WHOLE crawlspace, not just 15 feet." Good riddance.

So I get back in the saddle and call a few other Rathole construction workers, names I've not heard of. If I haven't heard of them, that is a good sign. Many don't even return my call. One shows up, a new roofing company in town with a claim they do any kind of construction. When the owner arrives I recognize him. He has changed his company name probably because of all the problems he had in the past and his bad reputation for being incompetent. I try to tell him almost half of the crawlspace is done, but he says it'll still take two men and six hours to do the job. He quotes $600. He also refuses to get under the house to actually look at what needs to be done. I tell him, "Oh, that's a really good price - for ROOFING. This is a crawlspace." He comes back with $400. I tell him I'll call him. As always, I stress about the two men who will show up at my house. Will they stink? Will they smoke? Will I need to tell them to leave? Too much stress and worry.


I give up. I'm out of construction workers to call. I buy more spray foam, don my home-made biohazard outfit, and crawl back under the house to do the remaining half. This time I made sure not to remove the mask until I was well away from the crawlspace and had removed the dirty biohazard jumpsuit. No lung issues this time. I'm learning, BUT I don't want to learn! I don't want to do it at all! I see all the holes the teenagers missed AND I finally see where the heating ducts have detached from the furnace. I push them back into place. You'd think with all the people I've had under the house, someone could have pointed that out. It only took me one hour to get the rest of the crawlspace sealed. My whole body hurts, but I saved myself $400. Priceless.

The crawlspace is done to the best of my ability, I know nothing was dishonestly left undone, and I didn't have to deal with the stress of incompetent people.

I bought a new infrared space heater that's heating my house just fine. Hooray!

Now I'm worried about the two puddles of water under the house...where did they come from?

This house is a never-ending money pit. Can I move now?

Construction Slimebag

Good news! I was in the hardware store yesterday buying construction supplies for the projects I must complete this summer. Unfortunately, since there are no decent construction workers within a 50 mile radius, I'm the one that gets to sling wood, hammer nails, paint house parts, and haul heavy things. Blah.

Joe, the hardware helper and village gossip, asks how I've been and I tell him I just completed fixing the mess that slimebag ignorant sleaze did last summer [thank you, Joe, for recommending him]. It's been my mission in the past year to let everyone know every chance I get what a fine job that scuzbucket did on my house. And to make sure they don't forget, remind them. Joe tells me slimebag is no longer around. I asked if someone finally sent him back to prison where he belongs. Joe laughs and says no, he went to Portland. (Warning to Portlandians...)

"Hooray!" I cheered. I guess my one-woman anti-advertising campaign worked. More than likely no one would hire him around here. Word spreads fast in small towns. I knew that.

So I went home and looked up his state license online. As you may recall, I turned him into the authorities and he was forced to get a license in October of 2012. He got his first infraction in November. HAHAHA He didn't last long. Accountability is a back stabber to dishonest people.

Got to run. Time to roll out a five-gallon bucket of aluminum coating on my roof....

Bad Construction Karma = Me

Saint Barbara

I've come to accept my bad construction karma. It's just the way it is. Any project will cost me twice the amount of money as any other customer and there is something about me that makes men want to rip me off.  I have addressed most of my construction issues in my former post from July 2012 entitled, "I'd Rather Smell Like a Man."


I just need to process my latest bad experience now.


Why I have to hire construction workers:

1.)  I own a house. I'm seriously wondering why this is a good idea. I know with owning my own home I don't have to deal with stinky, stupid landlords and I have control over what happens, but at the same time, I never had to deal with construction before so I am now questioning if owning my own house is safer than renting? It's nonstop. Relentless. Get one thing done and another problem rears its ugly head demanding to be fixed. So is home ownership worth it? Wouldn't it be safer, less expensive, less stressful, and less toxic to rent and not be responsible for maintenance?

2.) If I just let the repairs go, my house will fall apart creating twice the problems which may also contribute to air space contamination and health issues.

3.) For a woman, I think I'm pretty strong, but I'm not as strong as a construction worker so it takes me twice as long to complete a project. If at all! Some things I cannot do because I can't lift it or move it. I watch men handle drills with one hand and drill a screw in seconds. It takes me holding the tool with two hands and using all my weight to push and often I STILL can't get the damn screw in the wood!

4.) I'm usually not as skilled or knowledgeable as a construction worker so I screw up more often so it takes me twice as long and twice as much money to complete a project.

5.) The chemicals they use for whatever they are doing are toxic and make me ill. Since they can usually complete a job in half the time, I'd rather they breathe the fumes instead of me.

6.) I don't have most of the tools and they are too expensive to buy or rent. Even the ones I could rent, many of them are too heavy to lift or move, let alone handle them!

7.) I want things fixed or improved to make my life easier and more enjoyable.

8.) I don't always have the energy or stamina to do physical labor, especially big projects.



The problem with hiring construction workers:

1.) Most of them stink of chemicals. Even if they say they don't, they do.

2.) Most of them are unprofessional, untrustworthy, and incompetent sleazeballs.

3.) Their sleaziness often costs me twice the money.

4.) Their incompetence costs me twice the time.

5.) The whole experience is more often than not very stressful.

5.) I can't concentrate when they are here working so this is a huge imposition on my time affecting my income.


Obviously my very good construction experience was followed by a very bad one and I am processing. Processing helps me not to seek revenge, and therefore, put myself in the line of fire. I've been shopping for a gun. Well, to clarify, this latest construction worker was a master manipulator and come to find out, a convicted felon. I was warned by the police not to mess with him. Great. I'm trying very hard to fly low and avoid being a target, but I'd really rather rip this smug, condescending, arrogant, ignorant slimeball a new asshole and report him to the powers than be. The Labor and Industries representative said if I report him for ruining my roof eaves with a lousy paint job they will fine him $1,000 for every address I can provide because he isn't a licensed contractor. I know of four addresses he's worked at. I can find more in this little town. Every time I see his truck out in front of a neighbor's house I wonder if he's pretended to know what he's doing with them, too. Yeah, I know. Out of all the people I hired or got quotes from this summer, he's the only one whose license I thought I checked but didn't. Damn. I've been bad mouthing his name all over town. If he shows up at my house unhappy with my anti-recommendations, I want to be armed. Besides, I'm American. Guns R Us.

But a gun isn't going to help me if he chooses to seek the ultimate revenge. What would the ultimate revenge be? What am I most afraid of? Perfume. Cologne. My greatest fear is if he completely understood the ramifications of perfume exposure and throws perfume on me or on my property. I find that so strange that is my greatest fear. Let him beat the crap out of me or shoot me with a gun, but perfume exposure scares the bejeebies out of me. I'm sure this is totally incomprehensible to the average, non-chemically sensitive. I'm hoping as sleazy as he is, he's also not real smart and he didn't register or understand the seriousness of my fragrance-free requests. One of his workers smelled like a toxic waste dump and I told him to get off my property.


So what to do? Continue to lay low or demand my money back and deal with whatever repercussions come flying my way?


I decided I needed some kind of divine intervention so I checked online to find out who is the patron saint of construction. Saint Barbara.

BARBARA?

BARBARA?

Wow.  I should have known. Barbara was the name of my evil babysitter. Barbara was the name of that ugly doll I hated and gave to my little brother in hopes he would tear her head off. (I named her after my evil babysitter.)  Barbara was the name of my wicked stepmother. I have bad Barbara karma, too.

I am so DOOMED...