TSCLT 12.0: The pantheon hates a pussy 2.0

People need to be able to read. I'm having a bit of a n issue communicating with my engineer and the inspector, who is also an engineer. My experience with engineers is, most of them did engineering because they kinda suck writing the Engrish Language. Except for the first ex-Mrs. Tyler. She was a bang-up good engineer and quite deft with her writing skills.


Making headway with the workload today.


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The first ex was looking for an interesting work area, and she likes to build shit.


Wat just started building shit. They have tables for that. Never required The Calculus.


My mechanical trades are 0 for 3 in getting their simple tasks du jour complete. After I gave them a good Lee Ermey impression for the lot of them, I may get the HVAC task complete. Maybe. The plumbers are a disappointment, but disappointment seems to run deep in that trade and it comes with leaks and rot when it's profound.


Hell, they act like I'm dishing out suggestions . . . .


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Happy Friday!!! Slept okay until I didn't any more. Cats are quiet. Coffee is on.


Did a bit of a Sylvia Plath imitation yesterday afternoon. I got my new molding cutters and was running a bit of scribe on the cabinets. Dropped the damned things and went to grab them and got my thumb in the cutting bits. Human tricks. Anyway, I got to go to Doc-In-The-Box and have a bit of sewing done so the damned thing would quit weeping. No bone damage, but close. It was all too close. Maybe I was running a notch or two faster than I was capable of at that moment.


Flow with whatever may happen and let your mind be free;
Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing.
This is the ultimate.


~ Chuang Tsu


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I'll burn josh for your thumb. I'm not sure how efficacious that would be. It can't hurt. The smoke is too far away, I'm sure.

If you feel good vibes, look for some wine and cheese and big-ass speakers for your tank...
 
What it was, I had lost my temper with the weasels an hour before. I had tooken a good 30 minute break from all of them, but I was probably still a bit hyper.


I bumped it after the numb juice had worn off. Yeah . . . no!!!


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By Blessed Buddha's Big Brass Balls! She looks as artificial as a RealDoll™ looks alive.

Don't ask me how I know.

I just do.
 
You should try to keep all your parts in case you need them in the next life Wat. I know you're already part cyborg but you don't need to finish the transition.

Waiting on an inspector today, he confirmed yesterday, he confirmed he was only running a few minutes late when I called him at the appointment time this morning, and now he's not answering as I sit in this empty, unheated, space waiting for him with an equally empty coffee cup. I am not a happy camper. I have texted a minion to bring me more caffeine and my phone charger to try and keep my jolly disposition going. And because that's not enough, I forgot lunch at home in the fridge so there will be take-out today, before I make a run to drop off a special client's order.
 
My left thumb has a couple of scars on it from sharp cutting tools (and I was doing stupid things with them). Always keep the red hand towel close by when doing stupid things.
 
And now we know why the Redcoats wore red.


Got the flood displaced woman back into her place. She seems pleased. Wat likes her, so he's glad she is.


The blower door arrangement is an opportunity to fail. It sucks, quite literally.


Progress made - none remarkable.


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Blower door tests are subjective and depend upon knowledgeable technicians.
 
He finally showed up at eleven, three hours late, spent less than ten minutes between all four units and passed them, the walls may now be insulated and covered.
The minions ordered pizza while I ran my errand and then sat down at a place and had a leisurely lunch since I was already behind and no longer gave a shit. Leftovers are warming now and I'm calling it a night, there is a cup of tea and a book planned for the rest of the night. The rest are playing video games.
 

Exiled

By: Edna St. Vincent Millay​



Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;

Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
Of the big surf that breaks all day.

Always before about my dooryard,
Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea.

Always I climbed the wave at morning,
Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath big buildings,
Stricken with noise, confused with light.

If I could hear the green piles groaning.
Under the windy, wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
And the black sticks that fence the weirs,

If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead, of the wheeling gulls;

Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
Dread the bell in the fog outside,

I should be happy! -- that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine;
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again!

I should be happy … that am happy
Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
I have a need of water near.



Whereas I understand needing water close at hand, it can the the pond and the stream at the bottom of the hill. Too damned many st000pids at too many beaches.


Home. Grazing in. Got to teach two curious minds how to do some stuff. One the basics on how to read plans, and the other a bit of finish carpentry.


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The client want milestones for a project that is yet undefined. I am not a fan of bean counters that do not know their beans.

Then, they tell me that I have to agree to terms of net/60. And after that, they say billing cannot occur until the milestones are signed off on by another bean counter. I ask what the time period is expected to be for sign off and mention that I already do a shitpot of work for the owner and they pay net/30 without fail. Don't they understand that now, they will get tagged with a bit of extra mark-up for those extra days the money isn't in my bank account. I haven't given them a price yet, but it just went up.
 
Happy Saturday!!! Slept pretty well. Coffee is on and waking up is under way. Josh is alight for those who suffer needlessly. We'll see what we can get done today.


I have been insulted! I have been hurt! I have been beaten! I have been robbed! Anger does not cease in those who harbour this sort of thought.

I have been insulted! I have been hurt! I have been beaten! I have been robbed! Anger ceases in those who do not harbour this sort of thought.


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Notorious blowhard George Armstrong Custer's bother, Thomas, won two medals of honor in the same fucking week, back when that was a thing. Thanks be that Allah called him home at Little Big Horn, too.


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Early lunch. We're going to knock off in the 3 o'clock hour. We're making headway, which is good. We also have painters. The annoying bit is, we're probably going to run into the week of T-giving at this rate. Meh!


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I do not like being behind schedule. I'm not, but the reviewers that need to age documents for a week or two on their desks before looking at them are getting me riled up.
 
Wat loathes being behind schedule. He feels that it is a direct reflection on him and on his abilities. Especially when people fail ro deliver as promised or fail to follow simple instructions, that's when Wat loses it. Then all the princesses get a hurt butt.


That said, the trim crew (me and my guy) got some shit completed today.


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Wat is That Good, but he also tones it down some for the masses, so to speak. This is about make it look decent and get it done today.


Home. We'll be trying again tomorrow.
 
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