It's official. I am a grade A #1 sucker.
I have been dealing with this ongoing water damage claim with my insurance, with three questionable construction men of sorts, all of which I thought I could trust, all of which thought they could trust me as well, and we all secretly didn't trust each other was what it really boiled down to. It's not uncommon for humans to act on feelings. People often comment that women are more susceptible to acting out on feelings, which leaves men therefore less inclined to act on feelings, and even further less inclined to show emotion. So they say. I have found that to be totally false, unwarranted, lacking of merit, and undeniably misdiagnosed. And I owe it all to a few pipes that wanted to rebel against the unruly and unforgivable raw sewage that forces its path through them. I don't know, but if I was a pipe, I would probably do the same thing. Who wants to have urine running all over them, much less #2? There are people in this messed up world we live in who do, but thankfully and somewhat surprisingly, I do not know them.
To make a long, very boring, and confusing story, digestible (pun intended- get it? pipes, digest, you are laughing inside. I just know you are.)
My house had either a clog in the main line, or a root growing through the pipe or it was demon possessed. I'm fine with entering a plea of a combination of all three. The truth is, I don't know what the heck the problem is with the plumbing in my house. Whatever the issue, it is still unfortunately unknown to me, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was unknown by all interested parties, and I use the word interested very loosely here. What makes an object of desire intriguing to one person is entirely different to another. Essentially, I'm saying that my best interest was not at hand, although I was told repeatedly by all parties involved, the insurers, the fixer uppers, and the friends of the fixer uppers, that I was being carefully looked after. I even told myself that I was being diligent in hiring the right people. After all, all people who were hired were friends of someone I knew. That is scary in itself. It's scary that all three of the people that I hired knew someone I knew, and all three were clowns, untrustworthy, grimy fuckheads. I say that with only the purest of disdain and bitterness. You'll have to excuse my French, but if you were me, and lucky for you you are safely you, you would probably have thrown a chair through your 15th story high rise window while you were still seated on top of it. I have maintained composure somehow. God helps. A lot. I will probably have to sit an extra 32 hours on the white couch, which will match my new white hair when it's all said and done.
In all of this nightmare that has both snuffed out too many of my semi-precious cell phone minutes, and raped me of three hours of my morning routine work day, which accumulate to about a weeks worth of real work, I have learned that people, not all people, but people in general are assholes. People will lie to your face, they will tell you what you want to hear, and they will do it without the bat of an eyelash. People run on emotions and act on feelings. It's probably why we live in such a litigious society, and why we make threats that we don't intend on ever following up on. We want to protect ourselves from the likes of ourselves. It's scary. I hate this world sometimes. By the time I die, I will be either very bitter or truly enlightened, maybe both, but either way, I will hopefully be wise enough to know when someone is telling me the truth. And if I know by instinct, then I will act on intuition, and go with my gut feeling.
We don't trust our gut feelings enough, which I believe is really the Holy Spirit. If we listened more without asking the whys and hows and just know that He is in control of all things, we would all be better off, and have less worry, less anxiety, and less need for control. I, for one need to believe God to do the things that he says he will do more often and quit trying to figure out why He does what He does, and just be fine with knowing that He's in control, and everything will be fine. It will all be over soon enough, and these worries of drywall and laminate vs hardwood will be nothing more than a fart in the wind to put it eloquently. And thank God. I can't take much more of this.
I have been dealing with this ongoing water damage claim with my insurance, with three questionable construction men of sorts, all of which I thought I could trust, all of which thought they could trust me as well, and we all secretly didn't trust each other was what it really boiled down to. It's not uncommon for humans to act on feelings. People often comment that women are more susceptible to acting out on feelings, which leaves men therefore less inclined to act on feelings, and even further less inclined to show emotion. So they say. I have found that to be totally false, unwarranted, lacking of merit, and undeniably misdiagnosed. And I owe it all to a few pipes that wanted to rebel against the unruly and unforgivable raw sewage that forces its path through them. I don't know, but if I was a pipe, I would probably do the same thing. Who wants to have urine running all over them, much less #2? There are people in this messed up world we live in who do, but thankfully and somewhat surprisingly, I do not know them.
To make a long, very boring, and confusing story, digestible (pun intended- get it? pipes, digest, you are laughing inside. I just know you are.)
My house had either a clog in the main line, or a root growing through the pipe or it was demon possessed. I'm fine with entering a plea of a combination of all three. The truth is, I don't know what the heck the problem is with the plumbing in my house. Whatever the issue, it is still unfortunately unknown to me, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was unknown by all interested parties, and I use the word interested very loosely here. What makes an object of desire intriguing to one person is entirely different to another. Essentially, I'm saying that my best interest was not at hand, although I was told repeatedly by all parties involved, the insurers, the fixer uppers, and the friends of the fixer uppers, that I was being carefully looked after. I even told myself that I was being diligent in hiring the right people. After all, all people who were hired were friends of someone I knew. That is scary in itself. It's scary that all three of the people that I hired knew someone I knew, and all three were clowns, untrustworthy, grimy fuckheads. I say that with only the purest of disdain and bitterness. You'll have to excuse my French, but if you were me, and lucky for you you are safely you, you would probably have thrown a chair through your 15th story high rise window while you were still seated on top of it. I have maintained composure somehow. God helps. A lot. I will probably have to sit an extra 32 hours on the white couch, which will match my new white hair when it's all said and done.
In all of this nightmare that has both snuffed out too many of my semi-precious cell phone minutes, and raped me of three hours of my morning routine work day, which accumulate to about a weeks worth of real work, I have learned that people, not all people, but people in general are assholes. People will lie to your face, they will tell you what you want to hear, and they will do it without the bat of an eyelash. People run on emotions and act on feelings. It's probably why we live in such a litigious society, and why we make threats that we don't intend on ever following up on. We want to protect ourselves from the likes of ourselves. It's scary. I hate this world sometimes. By the time I die, I will be either very bitter or truly enlightened, maybe both, but either way, I will hopefully be wise enough to know when someone is telling me the truth. And if I know by instinct, then I will act on intuition, and go with my gut feeling.
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