2002-10-09 - 1:53 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: The sound of my new doorbell

BTW, to the two or three people who have read my entire journal archive (or close to it) in the last month or so: Thank you. I'm enormously flattered that you found my ramblings interesting enough to read dozens of pages at a time like that.

Even more amazing is that despite knowing all about the hairy armpits (touch them! love them!) and the belly troubles, at least one of you is still here. ;)

So, yesterday I had men at my door all day long. First it was the mailman (a cute, natty dresser with the most fetching swishy walk), then the FedEx guy, then the UPS guy, then the carpet guys, then a carpet guy again because he left his keys on my carpet.

It seems that I cannot hear the doorbell from the third floor. I can hear knocking just well enough if it's loud. Then I holler out the window (next to which I have conveniently located my desk) that I'm on my way down.

However, the likelihood of hearing someone knocking was just too iffy, and it was stressing me somewhat that I was expecting all these people and wasn't certain I'd know when they arrived.

Poindexter was talking about extending the existing doorbell wiring up to the third floor. That sounded like a lot of work, and it's not like we don't have our work CUT OUT FOR US, thanks to a CERTAIN SOMEONE. Plus, I figured, this is America, and this is 2002, so there must be some sort of cheap wireless doorbell available at this point.

I am happy to report that this is, in fact, the case. And, god bless America, there are multiple wireless doorbells available. This one was $17 and can be affixed to the door with double-sided tape that is included in the package. It even comes with a battery! The bell part is just plugged into the nearest outlet, which means it's a PORTABLE doorbell. Theoretically, I could take it into the BATHROOM with me if I was expecting something really important.

The chime sounds horrible -- a computerized fake doorbell noise -- but I'd probably have to pay more for a more pleasant chime, and the money could be better used for things such as, say, RIGHT-SIDE-UP NON-FILTHY light switches. So I could not possibly be happier with this purchase.

In fact, every now and then I press the button, which I have not yet installed on the door. And it chimes. Yippee.

Kevin sent me a link this morning to a new Bug book (the automobile), which looks at the Beetle as a cultural phenomenon. It sounds really interesting.

My favorite thing about being an air-cooled Volkswagen owner is that most people who have these cars are MADLY in love with them. There's a sort of instant cameraderie when you encounter another owner.

(There are a small group of people who drive them because they're cheap and don't have any affection for a car. I don't like those people. Buy a 1990 Honda.)

On Saturday evening, my mom and I pulled into a parking space next to a bright yellow Beetle (1973 or later) in great condition. They were just sitting in the car with the windows rolled down, and the plates were Virginia, so I walked up and we chatted a bit, about their Bug and my Karmann Ghia, and the Bug-Out in Manassas, and his wife noticed that I was wearing my Beetle shirt that my sister-in-law gave me.

Then I complimented him again on what a nice Beetle he had, said goodbye, and began walking into the store. Then he started up then engine -- varrrrOOOM! -- and I laughed and said "WOOOOOOOOO!"

My mom, when we got home, said to Poindexter, "You should have seen her face when she heard the engine start up."

I think I need my Ghia back. We're hoping to bring it down this weekend.

Now that all the contractors and their clumsy booted feet and dirt and dust are out of my house, I put eight sticky traps in the kitchen last night and the night before. Four along the floor and four along the countertops, near the walls.

I wish I could describe the goofy excited/fearful tension I was feeling when I crept down the stairs in the morning. "Please let them be empty! Please!" I didn't want to think about how gross a roach would be, stuck to the sticky stuff. Then unwelcome notions floated through my head, of what would happen if I tried -- which I would never actually do -- to pull the roach off the trap. Would the legs remain on the trap, and I'd have a legless roach? Would it be able to move at all, perhaps with abdominal movements?

But I digress. The traps were empty both nights. I'll leave 'em out one more night, and if nothing turns up, maybe I will be able to stop having roach nightmares and fretting over individual crumbs.

Carpet/assertiveness update: When Poindexer heard what the carpet guys said when they were here, he was livid. Couldn't believe the guys tried to deny making the dirty spots. Then we spent some time digging in the carpet near the baseboard to see how it was laid out there.

This morning he found a how-to site online that indicates that the board with tacks on it (that holds the carpet in place near the wall) might be too far away from the wall. We are going to get a higher-up in the company to come look at it. Meanwhile, I think I'll put blue tape on all the "good" spots so I have plenty of examples of how it SHOULD look.

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