I had one of those days where very little I set out to do went as planned.
The family I picked up in White Plains got off the train on the wrong side of the tracks (both sides of the train doors opened, which is rare on the Harlem Line). I watched everyone come down the stairs except my family! Did they miss the train? Did they really say Mount Kisco and I heard White Plains? Shortly thereafter I got a text. They were here but were still trying to figure out how to go under or over the tracks to exit. Okay, good to go.
We set out for the apartment but first, a quick pit stop at Wegman’s for something breakfasty. Easy peasy. Bought a PowerBall and MegaMillion ticket there too. Don’t laugh but I’m convinced I’ll be the first person to ever win both lotteries. Back to back. Considering the last handful of tickets I bought haven’t had even ONE number, I’m not holding my breath.
Tour of the apartment public spaces ✅ but it had to be quick because a giant photo shoot was taking place and residents were asked to steer clear of the lobby and library etc. Hit a couple of balls in the golf simulation room.
Then up to Bedford. Here’s where things start to go awry.
I bought a lockbox for the builder so he could leave a key for a tradesman if he wasn’t on site. I had on my keychain the extra key for the kitchen door. I gave the original to the builder. I stopped at Bedford Hardware to make a couple extra of that one key but there was a customer in front of me making keys for everything he owned. Car. House. Safe. Garage. Endless. And only one key making machine with a perfectly pleasant but young and somewhat lackadaisical employee. He was in no hurry.
My turn. I hand him my Baldwin key expecting he’ll use a Baldwin blank to make the new key. Seemed a reasonable assumption to me. But no, he hands me a generic looking silver key and when I asked Don’t you have the Baldwin blanks, he said No. I paused then asked if he’d please check with his boss because I’ve gotten Baldwin keys made there. She quickly pointed to the correct brand blanks and kindly tossed the generic silver key. Done. ✅
Bedford Post Office next to gather mail out of box. Big sign on the door that a mask 😷 is REQUIRED in the lobby. I was not about to go back to the car to get my mask just to grab and go with my mail BUT in the mailbox was a notice of a certified mail and in order to get it, I had to go back to the car, get a mask, then wait in line (and of course I got behind the woman who had a long story and tale of woe. She changed her address for an upcoming move. The deal fell through at the last minute and now she wanted her mail).
I got my envelope. Got in the car headed for the house to meet with the builder, to give him the lockbox, and extra keys.
Before I pulled into the driveway, I asked my daughter to reach into my house mailbox just for the heck of it. Full. The mailbox was full. Packed. But get this. None of it was addressed to us. All for my next door neighbor. The absolute worst aspect of this mail mixup was that neighbors son died suddenly and tragically, and in my mailbox were letters of condolence addressed to the parents. I was furious. I dropped the mail in their box, texted one of them and told him about the mail. I apologized even though there was no way for me to know, nor was it my fault.
Still with me? I know this is a long post. I’m at the house to meet the builder but he’s not there. The garage door is wide open. The front door unlocked and nothing done in the last several days. No forward progress. I called the builder but no answer. I was not happy.
So I double checked the keys I made for the back door. But guess what? It was the wrong key I had duplicated. Funny because I said to myself, self, you should go to the house first, make sure which key goes in the back door BEFORE making copies. But did I? No. I did not.
Demoralized about the keys and the house but still pissed about the mail, I opted to return to the post office to tell them my mail carrier went one step too far in his incompetence. It was one thing when he’d deliver mail to the wrong box when I was on the street but he knows I’m not there, he knows my mail is going to the post office, yet he’s that dense he puts mail in my box, that’s not mine?!😵💫🤦🏻♀️🤬 My mail carrier is like Biden. He’ll never get fired even though he’s totally incompetent and he’ll have a fat pension for life. Unfair.
The builder called as I was heading back to the apartment. He said he was gone only a half hour. I said not a problem being gone but yes problem in garage door left open and front door unlocked. Especially since I made it perfectly clear the gorgeous mahogany front door was not a construction entrance. Only the kitchen door. Grrrr.
We motored back at the apartment late afternoon and had a very early dinner because we never got around to lunch. Outside. Again the only ones out there. Wine. Wegman’s sushi. Peach pie! The gang is back on the train out of White Plains. I no sooner get back inside the apartment when there’s a knock at the door. Maintenance, for the work order I put in on Friday. 🤷🏻♀️
I’m beat. Still angry at the post office. Angry with myself about the keys. Disappointed in the builder. But there was good news today. The architect has been waiting for THREE WEEKS to get a response from the Health Department in Mount Kisco to sign off on the house plans with regards to the septic system. Three weeks. No one ever returned his repeated phone calls. No appointments could be made. Documents had to be put in drop box at building. Then wait. The approval was handed down today. Finally. The wait times are obscene, conveniently blamed on COVID, when it’s really bureaucratic incompetence.
Feet up. Long day.