We're now into the garage door with a mind of its own that works in the morning, but rarely in the afternoon. We finally cried uncle this week and put in a call for a repair. We called on Monday and a repairman appeared on Wednesday morning. He was in and out of here in 20 minutes flat. Simple fix. We left shortly afterwards and when we came back, we pushed the button and nothing happened. Seriously???
Craig immediately called the man and he said he'd have to order a new 'board', but couldn't come back until Friday. So . . . we're awaiting the appearance of the man with all the answers. This is a big deja vu to our original introduction to the way things work in Phoenix. The memories are flooding back. The Sears delivery truck that made me wait FOUR days for the delivery of the washer/drier. That's four days in an empty house without a chair to sit on. Every day at 5:00 p.m., I'd use my cellphone to call and question the dispatcher about their non-appearance, and the idiot would talk me into waiting until 7 p.m. because he'd swear the truck was still out and my appliances were on it! Same thing happened with Qwest (remember them?) and the landline installation. Day after day of no-shows. A friend who'd come before me warned me when we bought this house that Phoenix was the land of no-show incompetent repairmen. I thought she was exaggerating until I experienced it myself.
Since the house was brand new, once we got past the initial deliveries and warranty checkups, we had a grace period of 5 years before the bubble burst (they don't build 'em like they used to) and the frustration started all over again.
I think I'm going to strap on a swimsuit and hop in the pool while Craig awaits the garage door savant. I'll take the high road. :)
Speaking of high roads, I think I mentioned that Craig's favorite pastime when we were in Bisbee was to scout out steep walks and then taunt me with the disclaimer that I wouldn't be able to make it up that hill to see the sights. It'd be too steep for my knees, or I'd huff and puff and do a Tony Soprano flop.
I always took the dare and I always got there and back with no harm. Well, I will admit to throwing ibuprofen pills down the gullet to get the inflammation down on my bad knee after every steep walk.
One morning when it was threatening to rain, he drug me up the high road. I think the name of the street really was High Road, but I'm not sure.
The views down to the town below and out over the lavender mine pit in the distance were spectacular.
The homes seemed to get more
eccentric unusual the farther up the hill we climbed.
The junk artist's retaining wall is decorated with discarded bicycle tires and a plastic rhino?
Edwina Scissorhands is ready to take off on her bike.
Toward the end of the road at the peak of the hill, there's a nice shrine in the landscaping.
Two kitties huddling on a blue tin roof.
A narrow steep dirt road heads down from the top into the Brewery Gulch area. We turned around at this point since it was starting to rain and I had the camera.
I looked at this photo for awhile trying to figure out why I took it. I realized I was zooming in on the terra cotta colored stucco cabin we'd rented for the week from the road way above.