Feeling a Bit Grouchy

Despite having a more than OK day, I am thin-skinned these days. My eight-month mouse-free streak was broken yesterday when I saw one of those disgusting things in my living room. I swear I thought I had it beat with Ray, my handyman, having closed up all holes.

What's funny, although not ha-ha funny, is that earlier that day, I was looking at the baseboard molding and the floor in this one spot where Ray had used silicone gel to seal it, and it looked like -- maybe with cold weather? -- it had an opening again.

So I called Ray yesterday and he rode in like the cavalry tonight and has laid out about 10 glue traps (banana scented -- who knew mice like bananas?) and he left his silcone gel gun with gel and will return tomorrow where there will hopefully be a dead body in one of the banana-scented traps.

That whole thing has me on edge.

I didn't buy groceries this week and have sort of run out of food for lunch, so I ordered a sandwich today and the bill was $11.98 and I gave the guy $20 and asked for $5 back. I might as well have been talking Martian to this guy. He kept pointing to the amount on the slip and I kept repeating "give me five dollars back."  He clearly spoke zero English. So finally I'm fairly yelling, "I'm giving you a $3 tip" and he peels off $3 and I'm sighing and being a bit of a bitch and saying to give me two more dollars, over and over.

I don't want to sound like Sean Hannity and the rest of the group, but I do sometimes get worn out trying to do business with non-English speaking people. I'm not saying that English has to be an official language, but come on. So I called the restaurant to complain -- I said I didn't want this guy to return and say I'd ripped him off -- which I was afraid of as he clearly did not understand the transaction or basic arithmetic. The restaurant said the guy was new, apologized, etc., offered to bring me more food or more money. This sounds so fricking petty, but I want to say "does everything have to get this complicated?"

And yes, I know, I know. I do know how amazingly privileged I am, but I dread going upstairs in the morning and leerily (if that's a word) checking out my traps for dead or dying mouse bodies. Yuck.

On a positive note, I asked Ray who works days as a building superintendant in an office building in midtown about this horrible elevator accident in a "normal" office building where a woman got killed and, from what I gather, pretty mangled. He said that buildings have to take elevator infractions very seriously as the elevator inspectors are very strict, and will shut the elevators down in a flash which means the tenants would have to use the stairs and would withhold their rent. Good to know, along with Ray's observation that you can't bribe the elevator inspectors. Glad someone is honest.

PS: Safety tip -- Ray mentioned how hard elevator doors close and how dangerous it is to stick your arm in as the doors are closing so that they open again. That's something I don't do -- have never been in that much of a rush. Besides, about 30 years ago, I knew someone who did that and the elevator doors broke his wrist so he was walking around with a cast for a few months. Just breathe deeply, knowing another elevator is coming soon. And here's a confession -- when someone yells "hold the elevator" I only pretend to be confused by the buttons as the doors close and I'm on my way.