No Phone, No Lights, No Motorcar

We moved into our house this week. Which is why I took the cheap route on my last entry (cute husky picture) and then blogged nothing for 8 days. I know you were all waiting impatiently to hear the next clever thing to come out of my mouth. Cursed Tongue is having severe technical difficulties, i.e. we have no Internet connection because the builder stuccoed over the wires to the house. I should have know that something would go wrong when our phone/Internet provider showed up pretty bright and early instead of not showing up and calling at 15 minutes to five in the afternoon to tell me that they have to reschedule for Monday.

The Communications Technician said it would be possible to run a line from the box outside to the attic and drop lines from there. At the moment we're kind of borrowing a neighbor's wireless connection. (Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, dear sweet neighbor, this is better than any cup of sugar!) So, our only phone is the cell phone. Unfortunately, we're so far out from the center of town that if we get reception on the phone I have to stay put even if that means I’m on one leg with my right hand holding the phone up into the air. It's impossible to talk to an actual person because I spent all day calling and leaving messages yesterday and the reception is so bad that people who call back have been going automatically into our voice mail where they tell me to call them back and when I do, I get voice mail.

I've also been busy chasing around to find out which mail box is ours. They neglected to leave that information, and our paid and happy Realtor told us to go to the post office. We went to the nearest boxes and tried them all with the keys we were given. Not one opened. I don't have the contact information for the listing agent, not that he would actually care to help me. He didn’t even do a proper job of making sure all of the important systems in the house were working. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised that it hasn’t fallen down around our ears in the middle of the night.

Lack of communication to the outside world is not the only problem with our new house. For some reason there's a Cat 5 outlet next to the stove. The kitchen sink is leaking. The light in the hall outside of the bedroom only comes on if the dining room light is on. The light for the driveway doesn't work at all. And the car is making a clunking noise when we break. (Not that it’s the builder’s fault that our car is running poorly, but I feel like it’s their fault.)

Mr. “I fight your fights, I work for you.” Warranty Specialist Smart Guy told me yesterday that he didn't have any answers for me and pawned me off on the Warranty Coordinator, who was not in yesterday. When I called the operator at Jackson Properties to ask if there was a manager or some one I could speak with she told me I need to talk to my sales person. I informed her that this was a resell and she said I needed to talk to the absentee Warranty Coordinator, who, she assured me, would return my call. Of course, if she does she'll probably go into my voice mail. No one has even called to schedule the things the builder claimed that they would fix, before we bought the house. I suspect, as with all warranties, they’re giving me the runaround in the hopes I’ll grow old and die before they have to honor it.

These things on top of the things we knew we would have to do--landscaping and putting up window treatments. The house is a Salvador Dali with cardboard instead of clocks. It's literally oozing down the walls, over the bookshelves and across the floors. I haven't finished shelf papering the cabinets even though I had help from my Mom. It would be *Magic* Cover if it had gridlines all the way across the paper backing instead of a huge block of absolutely useless instructions in every written language known to man. We may have to add balancing the chi in the house with Feng Shui, because I think that may be the best avenue open to us for getting anything done with the builder. Calling them on the hour every hour and leaving a message doesn’t seem to be effective. I’m beginning to think that they made the Warranty Coordinator up, she’s never there and the greeting for her voicemail sounds remarkably like Jennifer Tilly.

Sweetface and I were joking about not being able to do Christmas, but it's already the 9th and I don't have any Christmas cards done and I really do think that we won't even be able to get to the tree behind all of the boxes, let alone assemble and decorate it. I think the big J. C. is pretty upset about our plans to skip Christmas and that the result is the wrath of God raining hellfire and brimstone--you’re right, it’s a little dramatic, I’ll change it to shotty workmanship and incompetence on our little house. If that steams his beans, then he must be really mad that I haven’t been to service for over a year, and that was a christening, so it doesn’t really count.

My whole job for the last six month was picking a house. I feel like the stupidest, most incompetent woman on Earth. “Let’s buy a new house. There won’t be as many problems with a new house.” Who needs a phone when you’ve got a cell phone, and who needs their own Internet connection, when you can pirate some one else’s. I suppose if the electrical catches fire we’re supposed to call the fire department from a neighbor’s house any how. In the meantime I think I may need some heavy duty “Ultimate Online Pharmaceuticals.” It’s a good thing that my e-mail inbox is full of dandy offers for said medicinal wonders, I haven’t had time to go in and delete them.