Friday, April 2, 2010

Hope the Neighborhood Douchebag is happy, now.

I called for a City inspector to come out to look at the shed so I could get the permits ($97 APIECE, I'd need one for the roof and another for the walls. Assholes).

The Dick (a different Dick, but a Dick all the same) comes out, apparently takes one glance at the wall around the door, and fucking condemns it. Termites, he says.

Bullshit. No termites. Ants, Dick. ANTS. I know, I found their nest while I was ripping shingles off the north half of the roof. You could have looked IN the shed, Dick. I left you the key, Dick. You might even have left me a voicemail when you called me at work, Dick, but you didn't.


I could have explained that I knocked a hammer on every support stud and already have 2x4's to replace the bad ones, Dick. You're doing a great job with my tax dollars--way to interact, Dick.

Nice. I've got 21 20-gallon totes full of books stored in there, some tools, some car parts, and nowhere else to put them unless I go with $40 a month for rental storage.

Whomever you were, Neighborhood Douchebag...thanks for nothing, asshole. Would you like a useless pile of 30-year-old rotted plywood? I was going to throw it out anyway while I was rebuilding, but hell, you can have the whole goddamn thing.

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