Who Do You Trust?

I often think I am a Rousseau gal trapped in a Hobbesian world...because anything associated with construction is Hobbesian, as I think all will attest.

So, the seemingly nice woman from Dominion, who promised she would get me an estimate over a week ago called me back today and left a fairly lengthy voicemail stating that she got my messages and was sorry but she was out sick all last week. However, she assured me (thrice) that I am a priority and she will get the estimate out to me "within a day or two."

She sounds sorta sick. But that's not hard to fake and she wasn't croaking or anything. However, we are having a swine flu pandemic here in DC (and everywhere, but it's like people decided that since it doesn't kill ya, they'll just go back to sneezing and coughing without covering their mouths, then wiping their noses and grabbing the metro/escalator handle - hasn't anyone heard of the word KLEENEX?).

So, I find my pendulum swinging from "Oh, here we go AGAIN," to "Oh my goodness, the poor thing!!" But then my little Hobbesian creeps out and says "Yeah, right." I leave it to you, fair readers...take the poll above and let me know what to believe.

I Would Title the Article "Jeanice McMillan Wins Posthumous Settlement for Reckless Negligence in Reporting"

Dear Washington Post Metro Section,

I realize you thought you were just "doing your job" when jumping on the "operator error" bandwagon the day after the tragic crash on the Red Line last Monday, despite having no evidence one way or the other to support such a theory - or any theory, actually. I have been dismayed (nay, disgusted) to constantly see you refer to "the operator" or "the driver" of the stopped train and to "the female operator" to refer to the impacting train - you know, so that we, the public can distinguish between a train conducter (a male, duh) and the person who caused the accident (the newbie lady-driver). You constantly refer to the operator of the impacting train as a novice and to her short time on the job. Yet from some of your initial reporting, there was universal support from her colleagues stating that she had first been a diligent and experienced bus driver who loved her job and her passengers tremendously and that she had gone through the required months of training to be a train operator. It isn't like Ms. McMillan didn't have experience operating major transportation equipment before she started driving trains. The woman irons her uniform everyday and yet you want to jump to the conclusion that she wasn't paying attention?

Now, you're insinuating that she was on the phone, while then reporting that her phone was in her bag.

In sum, you have been blaming - consciously or no - the operator from the word go, despite having zero evidence to support your theory which, while completely plausible, had as much evidentiary support at the time as a terrorist attack. Embarrassingly for you, bloggers did more investigative journalism questioning the driver's line of sight - see, e.g., http://www.farmfreshmeat.com/2009/06/could-operator-have-seen-train.html - and concluding from the obvious (because this person took the time to investigate the facts) that there was probably no way she could have seen the stopped the train and had enough time to stop hers. Although you initially reported as fact that Ms. McMillan did not apply the emergency brakes, the evidence is now clear that she did - and at about the distance where the blogger above posits she could first even have seen a stopped train.

What facts there are tell me the operator did everything by the book and your continued subtle sexist insinuations that as a new woman on the job, she was probably texting her friends instead of protecting her passengers not only needs to stop, but deserves an apology to this woman who tragically (and possibly inexcusably) lost her life due to what appears for all the world to be a fault of gross WMATA mismanagement and massive - and forseeable - equipment failure.

Shame on you, Washington Post.

They Called Me! They Called Me!

And on the seventh day, Dominion Power called.

And They said there will be electricity

And you can have it on the side of the house like you want

Which will save you money and not force you to rewire your existing panel.

Those were Their words.

And Their words are good.

And Dominion Power said: "We can dig this trench and move your power; we will do so in the way which saves you money."

And Their words were good.

And then Dominion Power said "However, we are six weeks behind schedule because of all of the rain we've been having."

Those words were not so good.

But They said "We will see what we can do."

Which are okay words.

Keeping the Chin Up

Okay, so admittedly, sometimes I get a little bit bitter about the house. It's hard not to, especially when it means saying no to the overpriced Kate Spade orange patent and peach suede heels with the ruffle on the vamp. Three years into a six-month project gets a body down, not to mention a soul. But a couple of things happened last Friday to remind me how important it is not to let the downsides of life become landslides.

First, was the bike ride to/from work, which involved passing the Holocaust Museum. I do not understand hate, especially hatred of whole groups of people you don't even know. It makes me cry. There was a really haunting contrast between the beautiful evening - the first in a week - and the scene of flowers and candles in memory of Stephen Johns, who was killed in his line of duty as a Holocaust Museum security guard by a racist, bigoted murderer hoping, it would seem, to end his life engaged in a terroristic killing spree. I feel so sad about events like these, because I not only do not understand how people become such monsters, but also because I inevitably feel like there is too much hate and not enough love in the world. And I wonder - were the "evil" people once sane? Were they so ill all along as to be predestined for something along this line, or is there a way you could look at their lives and pinpoint the event or events that then started a chain reaction of anger that ends on the evening news? Was there a way things could have been different? Are some people innately programmed to hate, or is it learned, or both? And how do we counter hate? Surely not with more of it. Is it enough to just be a good person in your small way?

On that bike ride home, thinking about the poisons of hate (and the forces in society that fan the embers of hate into flames), I was also listening to my iPod and have really been on a Paul Westerberg kick lately, and listened to the lines of "Let the Bad Times Roll" and the thread of my thoughts led me to start thinking about how avoiding the poisons of hate - in whatever its form - starts with trying just let the bad parts of life roll by. If you get too up close and personal with the bad things, you can get pulled into a nasty cycle of hatred, anger, and blame, until you are at best no fun to be with and at worst, you become crazy or evil, and there's a lot that's in between, but none of it is happy or healthy. This reminded me of my buddhist philosophy courses in college - which still resonate with me - about how we live in a world of samsara (pain) brought about essentially because we cling too much to our desires and the way we want things to be instead of accepting the things that are. Nirvana, which is often described as heaven, has nothing to do with clouds, harps, or halos: it is achieving a blissful mental state in the here and now. I strive for this healthy state - really, I do. But there's a reason why the people closest to nirvana are buddhist monks living on mountaintops in Tibet - I think it's pretty challenging to achieve this in the throes of modern life. Sure, if i didn't have a job, a spouse, friends, a house, family, and a community of which I am a part, then I might not be so sucked into a world of expectations and desires about how all of those things should be and suffer during the times when the reality of my life and my personal expectations for it diverge.

Like with the house. I admit, I once came across our old contractor's truck in the school parking lot near our house and stopped for a moment, thinking of ways to inflict damage and let me tell you, the movie in my head where I wailed and smashed felt good. For a few seconds. Until the part where the cops showed up and I went to jail, because I don't get away with anything - even in my daydreams. I am ashamed of this feeling, but know that most anyone else in my shoes would feel the same; and I can also say with all honesty that I walked on by without doing anything - not even spitting. The fact of the matter is, as my mom pointed out when she finally saw the project: It's bad, I know, but it really could be so much worse. (I hate to think of how for fear that thinking up the ways will give them life, but it's true, it could be worse.) We do, after all, still have a wall between us and the addition... And the more important thing to remember is that hate/anger/negativity is poison, whether it's directed at another person, a thing, or a situation. Which isn't to say I'm not going to sue the SOB, just that it really isn't good to dwell on being the victim of his boundless ineptitude and corruption or berating myself for bad judgment in hiring him in the first place - it's better to calmly draft the lawsuit, get through the problems step-by-step, and move on. And, when I need a place to release the insanity of the experience, I try to use this blog to make the bad stuff in my head either funny or to just let it out (as well as to share the good stuff, too), so for those of you who read this, I suppose you should be billing me for therapy. You can send your bills to me c/o Dominion Power, P.O. Box 26532, Richmond VA 23261-6532.

Anyway, to finish off the day, went to see the movie Up. It is not only the best animated movie I've ever seen, but it is one of the best movies I've ever seen, period. The opening sequence made my husband and I laugh out loud as this couple starts out their life together with this wreck of a house and the wife starts sawing boards in her wedding dress, and they start this Adventure Fund Piggy Bank, but then have to drain it when the car breaks and then again, this is where art imitated life - a giant tree falls on their house - and so (i'm not spoiling anything here) they never get to take the big adventure they planned before she passes away (which made me cry because it was like my biggest fear come to cartoon life). And then the movie takes off from there. It is a complex dramedy - you'll laugh, you'll cry, it's better than Cats. Do. Not. Miss. It. Anyway, I won't give it all away, but suffice to say, the moral of the story is to embrace life - in all its moments - as an adventure. I've attached the preview and I am trying to pretend the house has balloons on it and that this is one fun, crazy, scary, lively, lesson-filled adventure. So right now, it's the part where we're lost in the jungle, but I really truly do have faith that we're going to come across the beautiful waterfall any day now.

Let's See How Long This Takes

Our project really seems to exemplify the little story about how for want of a nail the kingdom was lost. The latest version goes like this:

For want of a response from Dominion Power, the electic meter can't be moved.

For want of moving the electric meter, the concrete cannot be poured.

For want of the concrete being poured, the concrete cannot be cured (3 weeks).

For want of the concrete being cured, the concrete cannot be stained.

For want of the concrete being stained, the fireplace and new stairs cannot be installed.

For want of the fireplace being installed the green roof cannot be installed.

For want of the stairs being installed we cannot put in the floors or knock down the wall.

For want of knocking down the wall, we cannot install the HVAC or connect the interior electrical or run the pipes from the basement up the chase through the roof or having the spray foam insulation guy come and do the interior insulation.

For want of finished electrical work and insulation, we cannot put up the drywall.

For want of putting up the drywall, we cannot finish this project and move on with our lives.

All for the failure of Dominion Power to do their f*&^%ing jobs. As usual.

The last time we had to deal with Dominion was before we did the framing, as the electric meter just happened to sit exactly where the wall was going to go. Then the temporary power was brilliantly set up exactly where the outdoor concrete slab needs to go. Now you may not know this, but Dominion owns the lines and the meters and you can't do anything without their approval and their help. And by help, I mean, they are the only ones authorized to come and connect the power from your pole to your meter. So you can have an awesome electrician (we don't, of course), who will have everything ready to go, but s/he is not authorized to connect the line from the pole to your meter. Only Dominion is. And, as one might expect from a monopoly, customer service is not in their vocabulary. They'll call you back only if they feel like it, which is pretty much never. People complain about The Big Hand of Government ruining your life, but I myself have never experienced the kind of frustration that makes you want to stick your head out the window and scream "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!!" than I have dealing with private companies who have a monopoly on the most important stuff in your daily life, namely your electricity (Dominion), your cable (Comcast), telephone (Verizon/AT&T), and your health insurance (OK, I have Federal Blue Cross and they're the bomb - in a good way). And I work for the government and can tell you, if I didn't respond to a client within a week, much less 4 months, I'd be fired.

That's right, I said 4 months. That's how long we had to wait for Dominion Power to come out and connect our temporary power last time. I had to threaten to sue before they came and then they yelled at me (they're so professional, too) because we weren't there at 1:27 pm on the random Tuesday afternoon when they showed up totally unannounced.

Now, we need to move the temporary power to its permanent location. We initially wanted it on our shed. So the contractor we've hired to pour the outdoor concrete and retaining wall called an electrician. The electrician first said the City wouldn't allow that. I called the City. They don't care where the meter goes. I call the electrician back and was then told that Dominion won't allow it, but they're not willing to meet with Dominion without a contract and they won't give us a firm bid until they hear from Dominion. So of course we say no thanks, we've been down that road before, I'll call Dominion my damned self.

I first called Dominion's customer service (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA) line on Monday, June 8, and was told I would be called back within 24-48 hours. When I was not, I called on Wednesday and demanded a direct number to their operations department and miraculously got one. I say miraculous because Dominion does not disclose actual department numbers or addresses anywhere and usually won't give them out over the phone, either. So I called the "Project Designer" for my neighborhood yesterday afternoon. And again today, as a friendly reminder. Nope, nothin'. So let's see how long this takes. I'll keep you posted.

Yeah, well.

We have a new inspector on our project. This shouldn't surprise me, considering that our permits were issued in 2006, and yet it does. Our last inspector was great. He was very nice. He liked the design. He only failed one thing and came back the same day to approve it when it was fixed. Perhaps I should find fault in his failure to find fault in things our previous contractors did, since they were such total f* ups and maybe, just maybe, if he'd looked at the drain tile before it was covered up with dirt and said, "Uh, you know, this isn't going to work," then he might have saved us thousands of dollars.

So maybe I should be happy about this new inspector, because boy is he an eager beaver. He has come over to inspect things twice already - despite the fact that we haven't called him to inspect anything and haven't been there to explain anything. The reason for our absence being that nothing, besides the sump pump (coming attraction!), has warranted an inspection, and the way this works is: (A) I get a permit; (B) I do some work; (C) I Call for an Inspection; (D) Inspector Comes to Inspect; (E) Repeat symbol from B to D ad nauseum until done. This guy thinks the song goes A, D, D, which is appropriate since it seems he isn't really paying attention to either the way the song is supposed to go and is oblivious to the fact that we haven't hit the B note much lately. This is due to the fact that B is really a trill that goes Money-Work-Money-Work-Money-Work.

Anyway, despite his enthusiasm for his work, I just can't get excited to come home and find inspection notices shoved in the edge of our front door that say "Fail" repeatedly. Of course it's going to fail - it isn't done! That's why we haven't called you to come inspect!

But the one that really gets me:

Inspection: Outdoor Sink and Hose Bibb

Result: Fail

Reason: Not According To Plan.

Yeah, well, on that basis...