What do you mean I have a 7 inch whole in my...

So far, my interactions with construction guys have taught me two important things: 1. Homemade cookies and a low cut shirt will get me a better quote. 2.There is something wrong with a $500 quote when its competition comes in at over $3,000 for the same job.

Because I learned number 2 the hard way, I now have a 7 inch hole in my hardwood floor. So other people can appreciate how shitty this is, I have included the following photograph:

Apparently, when the duct guy and I talked about placing the ducts as CLOSE to the corners of the rooms as possible, he thought I meant put them as FAR away from the corners as possible. Maybe we need to work on our communication skills.

Regardless, I called him back to fix his error. I wanted to wring his neck with that extension cord when he said, "Yeah, I thought about putting that vent in the corner, but I didn't know for sure. "

$180 Goes to the Guy in the Blue Taurus.

Today I spent three hours of my life pushing my luck, traveling anywhere from 10-15 miles over the speed limit as I sped home from my parents' house. I had a nightmare last night that I was late to teach my own class, and the fear of professional failure was fresh in my mind.

I was rolling into St. Peter, entering the last leg of the race, when a Blue Taurus heading the opposite direction appeared to be experiencing a technical malfunction-- at least that was my initial interpretation of the on/off flashing of the headlights. After this spastic light display continued for several seconds, I began to dig deeper and look for another explanation.

I had heard that sometimes good samaritans flicker their headlights to signal that a radar-armed cop is waiting somewhere in the immediate future, but I had never actually experienced anything to substantiate this urban legend. Despite this, I decided to play it safe and drop my speed from 70 miles an hour to 55.

10 seconds later I was coming around the bend that snakes into St Peter from the north and sitting on the median was a white squad car, facing my direction, loaded down with state-of-the-art radar and not one but TWO eager police officers. I guarantee I would have been the reason one of them would have knocked his coffee over as he grabbed the stick shift to jam it into gear.

I owe that man a cut from the $180 I would have lost over a ticket, and I owe it to society to start flashing my headlights whenever I see a cop.


Note: Any sexual innuendos in the last two paragraphs were entirely intentional.