DH brings me Starbucks (which I will rant about below) and a bagel, so I wedge myself up on pillows, catch up on my daily NCLM quota and watch some tivo'd 20/20. DH goes outside to mow.
Mysteriously, we can't get our act together. When I'm goal-oriented, he's spacey. And when he's fired up, I'm taking a nap. But I digress...
Innocently self-medicating with blogs, I hear the unmistakable sound of a chainsaw firing up.
I first think to myself, How can he do this? I need to be ready to take him to the emergency room in a situation like this and I'm not even wearing a bra! And then I think I bet he's not even wearing safety glasses. But then finally settled on I'd better get my camera. This could be good!
All the episodes of Ax Men I've endured have paid off in education, I guess. Because he did not hurt himself or the house. The limb was 'felled' (I am pleased and dismayed that my vocabulary has been expanded in this way. Thank you, History Channel). And we can now set up the badminton net for the BC Underground Athletic Society.
Warning! Prepare youself to be blinded by the whiteness of my husband's legs. We don't call him Powder for nothin!
And now. I believe you were promised a rant about Starbucks:
You may recall the press Starbucks got when it shut down every single store for a couple of hours one night back in February. Unfortunately, this extra training given to all employees so that they could all brew the perfect cup of joe was wasted time for the folks at MY Starbucks. Exhibit A: This morning's hazelnut latte contained zero hazelnut. Fortunately, we keep some syrup on hand for our own espresso machine, but seriously?! the little syrup box was clearly marked with an H. Exhibit B: when I was allergy-sleepy earlier in the week I stopped at the same Starbucks for an iced raspberry no whip mocha which arrived pinker than normal, which could be attributed to the fact that it had no mocha, making it in fact, a latte. I was able to overcome this obstacle by some leftover Hershey's syrup found in the back of the fridge at work, but I dare say I was endangering my own life by putting anything found in that cess pool near my mouth! Now, for $4 a pop, you would think they could at least include all of the ingredients. Grrrrrr to Starbucks. These are the last few drops of caffeine I will be enjoying before my IVF cycle, my last few weeks of that sweet sickly taste that allows me to drag my arse out of bed, and they are ruining it!!!!
For those of you on pins and needles wondering about my to do list from yesterday, that also was ruined, but not by Starbucks, that I know of. No, they were ruined by the fear that our home may not be up to foster care code.
See, I was purusing the state regulations for foster care, because being the over-achiever that I am, I would like to have everything done in advance of the home visit, so there would be no to-do list. And I am now fearful our home will not qualify because the new regulations (established in March) make it mandatory that any floor with living space (kitchen, bath, living room, office, etc.) have two exits directly to the outside. Our basement has zero.
Sure, our basement has a staircase that leads to the first floor. And two 'daylight' windows, but exits need to be only 44" from the floor. Ours are about 6 feet from the floor.
So, I am maybe over-reacting, but I'm worried our house won't qualify and we will have to either a) install escape windows which will cost us thousands, or b) move to a home that has exit windows in the basement. I like our house, make that love our house. We have just recently got it to where we love it, after years of updates and improvements. To buy a home of similar quality would break us, or at least make us 'house poor'. So, I'm afraid of this, and so did nothing on my list for fear that it would all be for naught.
Lest I appear like a stalker, I am resisting calling the agency tomorrow for details. But I probably will, because this is killing me. DH says we should wait until the home visit, but I am not famous for my patience, and so will probably call. I'm bummed about this potential setback, and hoping for the best, like some grant from some generous agency to make our house meet the regs, or that I'm a doofus and missed some clause that fabulous people like us are exempt.
Other possible solutions: promise never to take the child downstairs? 'unfinish' the finished portion of our basement thus rendering our resale value toilet worthy?
BFF S. says there is no way this will disqualify us. How many homes would meet this clause? No one in a home older than the late 1990's in our part of the country anyway. Any home with any portion finished would need to have two windows / fire exits or a walk out basement. And how sad is it that a TRAILER could be licensed, and my beloved home could not?
Instead spent yesterday afternoon laying on a float-y with BFF S at mutual friend L's home while she is on vacation. It's a tough job checking the chemicals and watering her plants, but someone had to do it. Enjoyed adult bevies (accurately mixed by moi - perhaps I should train those losers at Starbucks!). Read People and other high-quality publications. Dished on everything. Felt like we were on vacation!!!
P.S. Dear Blogger, Just because I added some pics to this post does not mean I want you to forget everything you know about formatting. I did indeed want those extra spaces between paragraphs. We are SO in a fight!
P.P.S. Sorry for the snarky post. I'm really not in a bad mood, but sometimes its fun to rant.