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View Diary: Top Comments: Congress Sucks: Reason #1040 Edition (82 comments)

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  •  Must have been nice (2+ / 0-)
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    cohenzee, gizmo59

    I loathe the plumbers around here - they are rude, they make you reschedule a minimum of three times before they finally come out, and then they leave a huge mess behind. I would almost rather live with malfunctioning plumbing than call a plumber from around here.

    And it's not like I treat them bad - I always give them a 10% tip when they finally show up and do the work, I make sure the place they have to work is clean, dry, and accessible, and I stay out of their way while they work, but stay nearby in case they have questions or comments. I have coffee and fresh baked cookies for them (well, they're fresh baked the first day, when they were supposed to be there).

    All knowledge is worth having. Check out OctopodiCon to support steampunk learning and fun. Also, on DKos, check out the Itzl Alert Network.

    by Noddy on Thu Mar 14, 2013 at 06:29:58 AM PDT

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    •  When I was a kid, (1+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      cohenzee

      my father would take me as his "helper" when he had jobs on a Saturday.  He would let me shift the manual transmission in his truck from the passenger's side.  The Saturday jobs were usually light jobs:  leaky faucets and clogged drains.  Because the jobs were light, a 10 year old boy might actually be capable of helping out a little, as opposed to the boiler replacements and heating system installations my father would do during the week.

      My father always laid down a drop cloth and never left a mess.  I can't say for sure how these jobs were scheduled, but back in those days--more than 40 years ago--most married women didn't work, and so it was more likely that someone was at home every day of every week.

      There were customers of his, a pair of old spinster sisters, who would bake cookies, not for my father, but for my sister and I.  (I specifically remember one visit he made when their heating system was not working properly--he was worried that these little old ladies would be suffering without heat.)  They were cardamom cookies, which tasted wonderful and exotic to me.  My mother didn't make those sort of cookies, and I'm sure she was ignorant of the very existence of cardamom.  (Not to complain--my mother's cookies were very good--but she lacked imagination.)  I haven't eaten one of those in at least a couple of decades, but I suspect that if I ever do, I'll have a Proustian moment where, just like Swann eating a madeleine, nearly forgotten memories will come flooding back.

      -5.13,-5.64; If you gave [Jerry Falwell] an enema, you could bury him in a matchbox. -- Christopher Hitchens

      by gizmo59 on Thu Mar 14, 2013 at 12:00:59 PM PDT

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