desperately seeking contractor

Music: Assemblage 23: Meta (2007)

. . . I lie; there is no desperation, only, perhaps, a little enjoyment. As I work to manage my mood and temper my temper this week---and repair relationships with all who come into contact with me---I was reminded of one of the best descriptions of enjoyment I've come by. From Bruce Fink's A Clinical Introduction to Lacanian Psychoanalysis:

We all know people who are ever complaining of their lack of satisfaction in life, but who never seek therapy. This is because they obtain a certain satisfaction from their very dissatisfaction, and from complaining: from blaming others for their lack of satisfaction. So, too, certain people derive a great deal of pleasure from torturing themselves, from subjecting themselves to painful experience, and so on. The French have a fine word for this kind of pleasure in pain, or satisfaction in dissatisfaction: jouissance. . . . Most people deny getting pleasure or satisfaction from their symptoms, that they "get off" on their symptoms in a way that is too round-about, "dirty," or "filthy" to be described as pleasurable or satisfying. The term "jouissance" nicely captures the notion of getting off by any means necessary, however clean or dirty.

I would admit, then, that blogging about home repairs feels somewhat dirty. I still bridle at idea I might be at some level enjoying what's going on downstairs as I type this (which is, in fact, nothing, and that's the problem).

But there's no denying the confessional is a preface for the update: After a number of phone calls yesterday and today, I have discovered why the mold remediation in my home has gone so slowly. The contractor originally "hired" to do the job is Mark Yeoman of InStar Services. That's M-A-R-K Y-E-O-M-A-N, just in case you're in Texas and he ever crosses your path. After Mark failed to meet two appointments some weeks ago, and after he finally returned my calls after two days of harassment, I told him I couldn't deal with it and I would hire someone else if he didn't follow-through and stick to his word. Assurances, assurances . . . and then I never see or speak to the man again. Instead, a guy named John shows up, young guy, very nice. But John dallies, doesn't do what he says he is going to do, goes off to lunch and doesn't return, says one thing and does another. For example, last Friday John says the mold expert will be here on Monday to take samples. No one came on Monday.

On Tuesday two new guys I've never seen before show up. They're "on loan" from another contractor, Ron. They finish about 6:00 p.m. on Tuesday, say they don't know nuthin' about the mold inspection. I phone the inspector, who says no one has said a peep to him, and that no inspection was scheduled. He recommends I call Ron, who he indicates is responsible. I call Ron. Ron is clueless, has no idea what's going on, but agrees to help. He sets up the inspection for Friday. Meanwhile, I'm phoning everyone trying to find out the answer to one very simple question: who is in charge of my job?

As it turns out, Mark, the original contractor who has final oversight on my job, was shipped out to Illinois for an "emergency" fire damage job. Back here, no one knows what's going on—there literally is no one in charge, which is why nothing is getting done. Ron calls today and says he's sorry, but he's solidly booked and is just trying to get me through remediation. He says that only Mark does both remediation and rebuild, but he does not do rebuild. He advises me to hire a different contractor to do the "rebuild," or, "you can wait for Mark to call you back, if he ever will." After speaking with the mold expert, I'm told that "Ron and Mark run two very different operations. Let's just say that their crews do not like to work together."

So I've spent the better part of the afternoon calling contractors. We have t await word from the lab in order to start building, at the very earliest next Wednesday, but probably not likely until the week of the 16th.

What's particularly irritating about this is that it's just gobbling up week after week and absolutely no work is getting done---no work on my house, and no academic work---no writing, no promised book reviews, no completed essays (I am, however, doing ok with the work-outs . . anger does wonder for endurance). Now, instead of blogging I might should get this class prep in order . . . but blogging, as we've already established, is dirty. Nevertheless, as this situation develops into the sweltering belly of summer, I keep thinking to myself (you know, because I do believe there is some truth value in psychoanalysis): am I really getting off on all this? Am I becoming Eeyore incarnate? And if so, who is going to nail (on) my tail?