master plan under one-year warranty
October 19, 2005
my mother will find every little blemish within her new house and immediately contact the builder to have it repaired while it's still within the one-year warranty period. today i saw some figures walking up to the door via my upstairs bedroom window and i automatically assumed that they would be solicitors of some sort, because people just love to target new-home buyers to MOW THE LAWN! HAVE MEAT DELIVERED DIRECTLY TO YOU DOOR! BUY TIDE! POWERWASH THE SIDING! (even though the siding is brand new so it doesn't need powerwashing.)
the doorbell rang once and i stayed in my chair, waiting for whomever to run away pouting. the doorbell rang again which made me figure it was at least somewhat important as most solicitors will leave after only one bell ringing. i shuffled downstairs in a big, old tee shirt, hair all over the place due to a lack of shampooing during that 24-hour period, and old gym shorts. i wasn't too concerned with who would be at the door, as i was ready to send them away with a courteous "no thank you" when what i would have really wanted to say is "get the hell off my porch before i grab the hose."
i opened the door and there stood an extremely tall, blonde, hot young man. i saw a halo and heard a choir of angels except the halo was more of a burnt-orange, university of texas visor and the choir was more like the hammering of two-by-fours via the construction crew next door. "hi, i'm jeremy, with meritage." what the hell is meritage i thought. oh, the builder. "oh, you're the warranty guy," i replied after wiping away a droplet of drool while being extremely embarrassed with my unpresentable appearance. he came inside to inspect a few of my mother's inquiries and said he'd get someone out here to work on them. as much as i would have liked to stare at his utter gorgeousness i wanted him to leave so i could, oh, i don't know... shower and smell better? exit hot guy.
despite my hobo appearance and smelly hair, i wasn't in a rush to shower because he was going to send a lacky to do the actual house-mending. NOT TRUE. a few minutes later the doorbell rang again and there he was, in all his hotness, requesting that i step outside to look at the garage door that in his opinion needed a little extra paint. thanks, jeremy. i appreciate you adding bright, natural lighting coming from all angles to my embarrassment. note that i obviously didn't have time to shower in two minutes.
a couple hours later the lacky touched-up the garage door and i decided to treat my father by showering before rescuing him from the dialysis center. i ran ten minutes late because i figured a little mascara and clean clothes wouldn't hurt the nurses and technicians at the clinic. right as i was heading out the front door, ding-dong, there was hottie mchotterstein, jeremy, standing there to notify me that someone would be working on (something) outside of the house. smelliness: fresh. matted hair: oil-free. cheeks: rouged. clothes: tide-with-bleach'ed. hot guy: front door. REDEMPTION! rock. on.
enter brilliant scheme:
- comb every inch of this house and find every single imperfection and tell my mother about it.
- have her inquire to incredibly hot warranty guy so that he can check them out. three times a week ought to be enough.
- upon each tri-weekly arrival i shall answer the door with an innocent, "(batting lashes) i had no idea you were coming. let me show you the way to [insert something ridiculous that doesn't need fixing]."
- must answer door in formal gown.
master plan: activated.
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