It is All Perspective

So, Kirby e-mailed me on Friday morning. There was this teensy-tiny problem at the house in Leeds. You see, the gas line had been cut. The situation was going to require the gas company, building permits and some inspector-type from some sort of Leeds Municipal Department to be involved. But, no problem! Kirby was on it.

Before we go any further, let me just say this: I have always wondered why the Springs (the former tenants) were so anxious to leave in such a hurry. They cleaned the place. They let me keep the dishwasher. They offered to let me keep the security deposit (and have not given me a way to contact them to return said deposit). They kept paying the rent when they left until the end of their lease. And, they kissed my hiney on the way out the door. Could it possibly be because Mrs. Spring, a gardener by trade, had accidentally cut the gas line when she was digging up the plants in the yard? Because given the location and proximity to some plants... well, you get the idea.

Don't mind me. I'm just thinking out loud here.

Anyway, back to Kirby. Kirby called me Friday afternoon to throw a curve ball into this. As the master of understatement, he told me he cost for said repair was going to cost "slightly more" than he anticipated. Was that a problem?

Let's see... The cost of fixing a gas leak or the cost of the house exploding? Yep, I'm good.

Strangely, I am at total peace about this situation. I sorta mentally played out this scenario if Kirby hadn't been at the helm. I would have had the exact same issue. With a lot more drama. And, I would have probably been out a lot more money and had a lot more stress.

And, I probably would have written something like this through a wine-induced haze: "It turns out the idiot across the street and his felon daughter were no match for Carolsue, who had been off nicotine for three hours because she was babysitting the gas leak at the Leeds home."

Yea, I'm thinking this isn't too bad.