More calliope music

For those of you following along at home, you've heard the tale of Len and Sarah's furiture merry-go-round.  It's been a fun ride but it's time to ring some changes.  My man on Nantucket, you remember the guy. He's told me after much verbal genuflecting and admission of culpability on Tuesday that our stuff will be at our door by 10:30AM Wednesday without a doubt.  And guess what?  10:15AM Swegen's ears pop up, and by an all to familiar deep throated woof I know someone is at our door.  It's the truck with our stuff! Oh joy oh rapture! Snoopy dance engaged at last!!!

Wait, there's only one guy in the truck.  I say hello, my name is Lenny, where are the other guys?  He says hi I'm Travis and there ain't no body but me, see I just drop the container and go.

These are the moments most delicate, filled with fear and loathing you hope you only read about. I want to bark but at this guy, not such a good idea (he's a refrigerator) and he's not to blame.  Still, I'm really feeling the Oliver Douglas vibe here in Crystal Springs so I broach the subject with gentlemanly tact and say, there must be a mistake.  It's not yours but please forgive a moment, I need to make a call and chew the ass of the person who's fault this is.

Calls made, my blood pressure stays at normal levels and we conclude with a promise from My Man On Nantucket that a return call will be forthcoming with the answer ASAP. That done, I look to conclude my dealings with Travis who in the intervening moments has called his boss and is in the process of explaining the situation to him. They both agree they're in the right and Travis offers the phone to me that I might speak to Ray (do you remember Ray?) we quickly agree that Travis drop the container and split.  There really is no other answer and in my head I fantasize about nutmegging Mr Drucker over and over again but acquiesce.

Long about 1:30, MMON calls to tell me he's found a guy in Gunnison that should be able to do the contracted unloading later today or Thursday morning, for sure.  The company in question has placed calls to associates already gone for the day and he's just waiting on the call backs.  He says, worst case scenario he'll have a crew there Thursday by 10am.  Worst case scenario is the group in question hangs out at the Gem saloon in Deadwood.  The fear and loathing increase exponentially but I resist it.

Slow forward to 2:45 and no word of the  en pending arrival of a crew of gentleman to PUT OUR STUFF IN THE HOUSE! I call MMON, I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's at a loss and ready for a whipping, poor bastard.  He tells me the good news first, he's secured at least one guy for tomorrow, guaranteed. However, he's having trouble getting others because where we live is too far away (hear the music?) and concludes with, do you have anyone you can call?  1001, 1002, 1003,  I reply no, I don't. I just moved almost 3,00 miles from home.  It's a fact he knows already and he's whimpering, I can hear him whimper.  I say, let me make some calls and I'll get back to you.

I speak to our RE broker who is also in property management and ask if she has someone that can help?  She does and once again we are in her debt.  She's really cool, she doesn't belong in this show, she belongs in Petticoat Junction.

Sarah and I are able to laugh about it over dinner and drinks at the Almont Resort, where the burgers are cooked to our liking and the beer is always cold.

Now, if this were an episode of Green Acres this would be the conclusion of this weeks goings on but you know it isn't.

Stay tuned folks, Same batshit, same batshit whining time tomorrow for another episode of - Sisyphus has nothing on us   .