Dangerous...

That's how I'm feeling, right now. Dunno why. No, that's bullshit. I do know why. It's family -- the gift that keeps on giving. And giving. And giving. And even 1600 miles isn't far enough to be away from it all, not with the glories of modern technology. All I want to do, right now, is spit nails.

I'm helping my nephew buy a duplex. I'm co-signing, and my brother is going to live in the smaller unit. But said nephew is discovering that dealing with contractors is not...oh, let's just say...easy. Especially when you need the work done within a certain timeframe, and the guy ain't exactly bustin' butt to do it. Everyone I know who owns a house has had a similar problem when dealing with a contractor.

My sister in San Diego, who is never wrong about anything, got hold of one who thought he could BS his way around her. BIG mistake. You cross her? You regret it.

A friend of mine was having work done on his home and bought into the promises made by one of those guys...years ago...and said house is nowhere near done.

The people I work for thought by using a friend to do the contracting they'd avoid that mess. No way, Jose. Lawsuits were being threatened by the end of it all.

This is one of the reasons I never wanted to own property. Being a renter, all I do is call the manager or the landlord and they have to take care of anything that needs doing. And if they don't, I have recourse to make them. Which I've had to do, a few times. And if it gets too ridiculous, I can move to another place.

You can't do that if you own the joint, can you, Gertrude?

Yes, Gertrude's come rolling up to remind me of my duty to her and her beloved Adam...and Casey, since she gets her some salmon. Which is why I feel sooooo growly, myself, again.

All right, all right, all right, lemme finish up BC and then I'll get onto A65.