Skip to main content

Last Night I Didn't Get To Sleep At All

There were a lot of things that Wingman bought over the years from TV ads that were crazy.  Stupid even.  Expensive as well.  He bought Saturday Night Live videos and Time Life music CD's, pillows that help you sleep, shoe lifts for fallen arches, even a program from a real estate guru to make millions flipping foreclosed homes.  But it took a snoring dog next to me in bed to put me into the category of "What Was I Thinking?" when I succumbed to the middle-of-the-night infomercial. 

Besides inside vacuuming and dusting, I am now forced to take on Wingman's outside house responsibilities or pay someone to do them, like putting up a fence and installing a sprinkler system. Rather than pay someone to stain the deck that had to be replaced when the tree fell on it during that "she-who-must-not-be-named" storm in 2012, I decided to do it myself.  All 175 spindles and 68 deck boards and steps.  I envisioned a summer spent, not at the beach but on my knees with a stain brush in one hand, sort of like Lady Liberty getting sucker punched. 

One night a month ago, it wasn't the feel of a man's leg over mine, but the paw of the killer dog stretching to claim his space that woke me.  He settled down and the dull roar of his snoring didn't do anything to put me back to sleep, so I clicked on the TV.  And there I found it.  The Paint Zoom.  Short of a rich guy who cooks, just what I was looking for.

It came in two weeks ago, and this past Sunday, I took it out for a test drive-I painted the shed before tackling the deck.  After all, the shed is in the back corner of the yard and the fence will cover two sides of it if it turned out badly. 

Three sides into it, and black smoke started pouring out of the air vent.  Sparks followed, and then "POP". It died. Not even 90 minutes into owning and operating it.  The rest of the shed was painted-you guessed it-by hand.  And since their Customer Service is closed on Sunday and Monday was a holiday, I couldn't call until yesterday. And guess where their Customer Service Department is located??? INDIA.  There, "Nathan" told me that he would be happy to issue me a new unit and send me a shipping label to return the burned up one.  "But I can return this one and get my money back-right?" I asked. "It says 'Full Money Back guarantee if returned within 30 days."  In the two days I had to wait to call, I read the reviews of my sprayer.  It was sort of like finding out your date lied on his profile about...EVERYTHING. "Let me send you the new unit" he replied as I heard a hundred other people in the background of the call center.

I didn't want to make him angry or he'd put me in his desk drawer like another call I made a couple of months ago.  So I agreed to the new unit, and went to the company's website, where a pop-up appeared.  "Jessica" asked me if I wanted to place an order.  I said I wanted the American phone number for customer service rather than India where I just called so I could return my defective unit.  She gave me the same phone number which I promptly called, and spoke this time to "Ernie" India again.  I typed to her that I was speaking to India, and she typed back "Impossible-I sit next to the Customer Service Department".  My next pithy comment was "So you're in India too?"

She disconnected me.

So now I sit waiting for my new Paint Zoom with the 5 year warranty.  He said to allow 2-3 weeks for the new unit to arrive.  If there are fireworks on July 4th this year, they may be coming from me if the paint sprayer breaks again.

In the meantime, I close my bedroom door so the dog can't wake me up with his snoring. Then I won't be tempted into buying the $59.97 Tummy Tuck Belt or the $39.95 Butterfly Abs Rechargeable Ab Trainer.

But I could be a sucker for the $399.99 Fir-Real Portable Sauna.  It speeds up your metabolism to help with weight loss.  Then again, give me another defective Paint Zoom, and I'll lose the same amount of weight from my elevated blood pressure dealing with India again.


Popular posts from this blog

I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt

Wingman use to call me many things. Obstinate. Overcritical. Certainly bitchy. I even recall on our wedding day that he called me "beautiful". But that was a one-time happening, and I don't recall him ever crooning Eric Clapton"s "You Look Wonderful Tonight" after that. So it comes as no surprise that he never called me "sexy".

And I get it.  When I went to school in NYC, a couple of my friends were stopped by Eileen Ford and asked to come to her agency to model.  They were cute, and one was even, in an exotic way, sexy even back then.  But not me. I was and always will be, fine with how I look.

There were some things over the years that got me when I stopped dying my hair and grew it out to donate for a wig.  As part of a lecture that I did on The Avon Walk For Breast Cancer, I had my beautician come in and cut my waist-long hair short. The following Sunday at church, I was a Eucharistic Minister, which at a Catholic Mass is a re…

'Cause Baby You're A Firework. Come On Show Them What You're Worth

Five years ago today, I stood in a hospital room strewn with used syringes, rubber gloves and other medical waste, looking at the lifeless body of the man that I shared a life with for over 30 years. I should have been thinking of family, love and loss.  Instead, my first thought was, "Wow, I'm a widow now." Pretty pathetic in retrospect, and when Wingman referred to me just before I left him as "The Bitch", probably not too far off the mark.

But in time-warped speed just a half hour before that, I had already talked to the hospital twice, woken son #3 up to go over to the hospital with me, called Wingman's brother on the way, fought with a gimpy legged night watchman who wouldn't let us in the hospital, and finally took "that meeting" in a small private room where the doctor told my son and I that they did everything possible, but unfortunately (UNFORTUNATELY???) Wingman had passed. My brain was filled with what to do, who to call, …

But She Use To Have A Carefree Mind Of Her Own, With A Devilish Look In Her Eye

The first time I went out with Wingman, he remarked about how much I reminded him of his mother.  When we finally met, I just didn't see it: she was a tall, chain-smoking blonde, with a Lauren Bacall-esque voice, while I considered myself just an average size brunette with no distinguishable qualities.

She and I began our own relationship with stories about our lives, and she won every round of "Can You Top This". At 10 years old, she helped deliver her brother when her mother went into labor at home. Later, her alcoholic mother walked out on the family and was never seen or heard from again, so she dropped out of school to help. At 19, she and her husband eloped, and thought no one knew.  A photographer however, took a picture of them outside City Hall which became the cover of the afternoon edition of the NY World Telegram. (Oops.) A couple of years later, her very pregnant self drove her father and his equally pregnant girlfriend to City Hall in Newark to MAKE them get…