Blogger's log, shit date 041.228^2

Let's get you up to speed. The quicker we get this out of the way, the faster we can get back to stories about wind-whipped dumps in granaries, abandoned and otherwise. First, the house. The end remains in sight on the remodel. Carpet remains in only one bedroom, the one that serves as my office. The carpet has been ripped out of the basement, save for the stairs, and plywood has been laid down in the kitchen in preparation for the floor tile.

The basement ceiling is coming along. The contractor had it up Monday, taped and mudded Tuesday (there was a bit of drama as a result, which I will get to later), and was supposed to put the final coat of mud on yesterday and sand today, but the cool conditions in the basement prevented the first layer from drying sufficiently. So I gave him the OK to flip on all of the lights, set up a fan, and turn my heat back on. He'll finish the second coat today and sand it Tuesday.

Time is now running out, but if I had known how relatively inexpensive it was to have drywall work done, I would have ripped out the paneling in the basement a long time ago and had him do both the walls and ceilings. And I wouldn't have to do nearly as much prep work for the walls. Since the original basement ceiling was suspended panels, a lot of the electrical wiring, cable and phone lines, etc ran under the joists instead of through them or through the walls. I spent the equivalent of 2 or 3 days cutting small notches in the joists, moving the wiring into the notches or rerouting it through the walls, rewiring everything, covering the notches with nail plates (metal plates so one of the drywall guys wouldn't accidentally put a screw through an electrical wire and fill his britches with burned curry). Then there was hurrying to finish installing the downdraft vent in the kitchen island (I had to run duct work down from the cooktop, between the joists, and out to an end cap outside of the house), wiring in the 220v for the cooktop, and the 110v for the downdraft fan.

The worst though, was the tedious process of framing in the windows, any duct work hanging down below the joists, and in one room, just tacking 2x4s and 2x3s underneath the joists because there was just too damn much plumbing and other miscellanea to move in a reasonable amount of time. It was during this process that while drilling a screw into a 2x3, I hit a knot, the drill slipped and due to my ill-advised stance, it stabbed me in a finger on my left hand, deftly removing a chunk of fingernail from the base of my nail bed. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back and shook my hand up and down a couple of times. Unfortunately I didn't realize how badly I was bleeding, and this sent an arterial-like spray of blood up into the ceiling, and onto my shirt and face. I didn't care -- it hurt like a MOTHERFUCKER! My finger was throbbing, and the pain was that distinct kind, alternatingly excruciatingly sharp and bone-jarringly dull, yet deep, that made you see stars, get tunnel vision, and go right to the brink of passing out. I ran upstairs, crying out in pain, to rinse, wash, disinfect, and bandage the finger. Ang, of course, knew something was horribly wrong, and when I came out of the bathroom, she saw the spray of blood on my face and shirt. Even though I was in so much pain I thought I was going to vomit, I managed to spit out a truthful, "It's not as bad as it looks!" and collapsed on the couch choking back tears. She is not the panicky sort, but I felt I had to say something so she wouldn't think I'd cut off a finger with a saw or something.

As for the aforementioned drama with the drywall work. I am going to put that in a separate post, as this one is long enough.

Mystery looky loo

For years, I have left a webcam running that is monitored by video motion detection software. If motion is detected, it not only saves the photos, but uploads them offsite and emails them to me, otherwise it doesn't do much good to save photos of an intruder only to have them steal the computer it's saved on. I was able to work from home Monday as drywall work was being done in my basement, but my boss was understandably not too keen on me being out of the office 4 days this week. So Tuesday I fired up the camera on the laptop in my bedroom, left a key in a lockbox so the mud and tape subcontractors could do their thing, and left for work. Around 11, I checked my email to find one from the webcam software sent around 10:15 am. Initially I wasn't too concerned, as false positives are common. Try as I might to adjust the sensitivity settings, it always can be set off by something like a sudden cloud darkening the room or moving shadows from the wind blowing a tree branch outside of the window. This time, however, there was an unfamiliar face in one of the photos. Son of a bitch! My heart jumped into my throat -- one of the mud guys appeared to be snooping around in my bedroom! I logged into the laptop remotely, reviewed the incident in its entirety, downloaded the video (I only had stills emailed to me), and called up the contractor to ask him why one of his subs was snooping around in my bedroom. He apologized, agreed that they had no business in there (in fact, the master bedroom is on the opposite side of the house from the entrance to the basement), and said he'd call them up to see what was going on over there.

Before I continue, I want to make it very clear that I am not accusing anyone of anything. I do not have evidence that anything was tampered with or stolen, and I am still open to the possibility, however remote, that there is a perfectly innocent explanation for this incident. But I am going to explain why the story given to me doesn't add up. If these guys can give me details that fill in or eliminate the discrepancies in their story (and doesn't open up a whole host of new discrepancies), I might feel differently. But because as far as I can tell, no overt crime was committed, and because the contractor who hired these subs has handled this situation so well, I feel no need to post clear photos or video of the person's face, nor to name the drywall contractor. Which is actually a shame because he himself is really a good guy, his rates are great, and he does quality work (so far, so good anyway). I don't want his name to be associated with this because of the actions of one bad (or possibly just misinformed or misguided) apple. End of disclaimer.

The video, as you can see, doesn't show anything being stolen or rifled through. In fact, he is in the room for only 10 seconds. But what upset me was that he did not just poke his head in the room for a curious peek or like he was looking for the bathroom. He was checking things out, and actually turned to his left, went over to where I had set my tool bag and belt, and looks everything over.



Later the contractor called me back and said what he was told is this -- one one of the subs misunderstood, went upstairs because he thought there was patch work to be done (there was never mention of any sort of patch work upstairs or down). He heard the camera clicking sound (I set the laptop up to make camera clicking sounds when motion was detected -- I would rather prevent the theft than have something stolen and have the police try to track them down), was worried, and went downstairs to tell his boss. His boss came back upstairs to look for the camera.

The more I think about it, and in reviewing the timestamps on the photos, the more that story smacks of BS. The contractor said he has been hiring these guys for years without any reports of theft, and I absolutely believe him 100%. However, I wonder if any of his other clients had web or other security cameras set up in their homes. Perhaps they took things that weren't noticed missing until months later, years later, or were never noticed, and the connection wasn't made to these guys. And the kicker is that the camera only captured one person. Not one guy, then later another. Considering the doorway was partially in frame, and considering how sensitive the motion detection software is, if someone was in that bedroom or just outside the door, their image would have been captured and uploaded. Not only that, but the supposed first guy hearing the camera clicking sounds, even by way of a shadow/light-induced false alarm, is disproven because the only images captured prior to the mystery dude meandering about my bedroom is of me leaving after turning on the camera to leave for work. And this will probably be impossible for you to see with his face blurred out, but the guy in the bedroom doesn't seem to be looking at the walls. He's looking down. Down where the "stuff" is. He looks into an open closet out of frame to the left, he seems to look at the bed, then as I mentioned, he then walked over near the other closet, and really gave a once over to the spot on the floor where my tool bag and tool belt would be. Then all of the sudden he appears to quickly exit the room, not once looking in the direction of the camera, the sound of which would have been very distinct. Perhaps that is the moment he finally made a connection on what those camera sounds could be and vamoosed.

So there is the harder evidence. Let's also look at the logic of that story. You're a foreman, supervisor, whatever, and your employee comes up to you and says, "Boss, I think accidentally set off a camera of some sort upstairs." Never mind whether what that employee was doing something legitimate or not, who goes upstairs and LOOKS FOR THE CAMERA!! Why risk setting it off again and having your own image captured? No, you either finish up the job and high tail it the fuck out of there, hoping there was no camera or no one sees the images, or you call up the contractor, explain what happened to him so he can try to mitigate any potential blowback from the homeowner. No, the contractor had to leave a voicemail for these guys and wait like 2 hours for them to call back, giving them plenty of time to concoct a story.

In either case, the contractor, completely unprompted by me, told me that these guys will not set foot in my house again, and that he would do that part of the job himself. He also said that if he were in my shoes, he would have been much less calm about it than I was. Honestly I restrained myself significantly because I very much wanted to believe that this was all a result of a misunderstanding. In fact, I still *want* to believe it's a misunderstanding. I want to assume the best of people, but it's nearly impossible when the facts in front of you don't make sense. Yet those facts are murky enough that I also feel a sense of guilt. What if this guy really didn't do anything wrong? Now he lost a few hours of work for himself and his crew.

No matter how you look at it, I am quite certain that this incident will change how these guys work when they are in someone's home. I guarantee you I will not be the last paranoid douchebag with a security camera they encounter. They will probably remember this and be wary as they move about the house, wondering if there is a camera watching them. There is. It's in the bathroom, and it's recording you while you poop. But not after you poop. I'm not a freak.

Big Boy

Vending machine at work

Fucking around, I am not

I can assure you. The tool belt proves it, and the tool wearing the belt lives it.

Re: Your Mom's Box

Mr Gibbens, it has come to our attention that a large package from your mother was delivered to the front desk last Tuesday. We have attempted to reach you by phone numerous times, and have sent multiple emails requesting that you grab your mom's box, but you have not responded. If you do not attend to your mom's box within the next few days, we will have no choice -- for security reasons, we will be forced to open your mom's box to see what is inside. I'm certain you do not wish us to have our hands in your mom's box, and I trust that you will respond to this final notice in a timely manner to avoid this unpleasant scenario. Enclosed find a photograph of your mom's box.

Sincerely,

David Raunschueir,
Head of Building Security

P.S. Your mom's box is leaking a viscous fluid and is emitting a foul odor. Please hurry. This is a serious matter.

Afterglide charm school: how to lose friends and throw down the cluck

Inspired by Bunny's recent incorporation of Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People into his life in an effort to be more charming, I have decided to do the exact opposite. I shall be a complete and unrepentant ass -- moreso. I will interrupt people in the denouement of their stories with skeptical questions. I will come to work in the morning, ask my coworkers how they are doing, and before they can finish their first sentence, wave my hands in front of my face and growl a disgusted status update of "Feign interest!" and walk away. Ang's attempts to initiate intimacy will be met with me immediately beating off and announcing, "No thanks, I'm done." And instead of a Mother's Day gift, my mom will open her local paper this weekend to find a planted fake obituary for me. So I hope you'll join me on this odyssey. I may not die alone, but dammit, folks'll wish I would.

Crack pipe, die and marble

A still life

An apology to Tim F. (but not to Comcast... yet)

As mentioned in an update to the previous post, Comcast actually did call me to schedule the appointment after reading my blog post. They could not show up during my recommended window ending with "suck my dick pm," but they showed up bright and early, shortly after 8 this morning. Tim, the guy who left the original door tag and note in my mailbox, as well as a followup tag with a tongue-in-cheek note that started "Yes, another blue tag with red arrow...," was one of the guys working on fixing the issue. I felt more than a little sheepish since he and his note got caught up in my carpet bomb of rage that was the previous post. I apologized to him profusely, particularly since I was concerned that he may have got into hot water over the whole thing (he didn't). I explained that it was the customer service rep unceremoniously putting me on hold that set me off. He seemed to have a good sense of humor about the whole thing. I learned that I am quite the talk of the local Comcast office, and that my post directed him to visit Twitter for the first time. And while neither of the guys said it outright, I have a feeling that my account probably now has a note on it labeling me a "sensitive customer." At least that's our code word for assholes where I work.

So Tim, thanks for being a good sport, and thanks for not sticking tiny pins in my cable lines for revenge.

Humility,

-J. Swiggity Q. Afterglide Gibbens, I

P.S. Don't think this means I'll start thinking before I post. That would ruin the fun.