Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Now I realize why developers are famous for being behind on their bills. I get stacks of mail when I check my post office box, and probably 75 percent of it is construction-driven. There's a notice every time the inspection folks visit the steel-fabricator or test a glob of concrete. Then, I get a bill for each look-over.
And now I get electrical bills for three houses and am girding for more ... water, gas, and so on.
This is not to mention all the lien notices that land in my mailbox at home; I don't even bother picking up the certified letters anymore. Riding in the Tour de Clackamas every day also means I'm never in the neighborhood during post office hours.
Because I can never feel like I'm on top of the paper piles, I devote one night a week to them. And it's still not enough. So, even me, someone who prides herself on paying off the credit card each month -- and early -- starts to fall a bit behind. Worse, I keep uncovering stacks of the bills where I've absentmindedly shelved them, amid the lighting-fixture boxes, say, or in the briefcase or the 3-ring binders devoted to each aspect of construction.
Did I mention I was going to be glad when this is all over? (Just typing that puts me in awe that there will be a time when it's "all over." Goodness, what will I do with myself?)
Today I confided my worry over schedule slippage to the stonemason, who suggested using a velvet hammer. Obviously, he doesn't know me well, but I had to smile later, wondering what a velvet hammer would do for a stonemason. My hunch is, Not much.
Latest crisis is steel balcony rails unsuited to the architect's vision, and I get the deciding vote.
And now I get electrical bills for three houses and am girding for more ... water, gas, and so on.
This is not to mention all the lien notices that land in my mailbox at home; I don't even bother picking up the certified letters anymore. Riding in the Tour de Clackamas every day also means I'm never in the neighborhood during post office hours.
Because I can never feel like I'm on top of the paper piles, I devote one night a week to them. And it's still not enough. So, even me, someone who prides herself on paying off the credit card each month -- and early -- starts to fall a bit behind. Worse, I keep uncovering stacks of the bills where I've absentmindedly shelved them, amid the lighting-fixture boxes, say, or in the briefcase or the 3-ring binders devoted to each aspect of construction.
Did I mention I was going to be glad when this is all over? (Just typing that puts me in awe that there will be a time when it's "all over." Goodness, what will I do with myself?)
Today I confided my worry over schedule slippage to the stonemason, who suggested using a velvet hammer. Obviously, he doesn't know me well, but I had to smile later, wondering what a velvet hammer would do for a stonemason. My hunch is, Not much.
Latest crisis is steel balcony rails unsuited to the architect's vision, and I get the deciding vote.
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