Chaos, pandemonium and the frequency and decibel level at which a 3-year-old will demand chocolate milk will rise in direct proportion to the importance of information the contractor is attempting to convey to the mother--all multiplied by the number of veins popping out in the mother's forehead as she attempts to restrain herself from murdering her children in front of the chimney sweep man. Subtract X and you have the formula for the formation of Black Holes. (This same formula can also be applied to telephone conversations)
Oh yes, the very same Chimney Sweep who, upon observing the weakened state of the mother, attempted to ease her pain by suggesting that he can just go ahead and take care of the necessary work today--since he's already here and everything. Yeah, not going to happen. Just because I somehow cannot find a way to complete a sentence does not mean that I'm actually impaired in anyway.
The ironic part is that a fireplace was one of our top "must haves" on our list when we were house hunting. We should have specified working and functional. Instead we settled on oh, my Lord, we're all going to die in our sleep if we use our fireplace. And now it appears we won't get to use our fireplace this winter either. Phooey.
2 comments:
Why not, if all it takes is a good sweeping? Or was he trying to rip you off?
Nah, he wasn't trying to rip me off--the chimney needs legitimate work--he had offered to go ahead and replace the cap and damper ($500). A lot of the work we can do ourselves but I wasn't about to tell him that! He did sweep--much to my son's delight. The man had a rapt audience for that portion!
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