Tuesday, February 09, 2016

My Short Fuse

Someone broke into my vacant home Sunday and stole the fuses. yep. The fuses. And--because nothing is ever simple or inexpensive--these are special fuses that can only be summoned by a Tibetan shaman who needs to sacrifice a black Nubian goat on a stone altar in the back yard of my home on the third full moon of the fourth month that ends with a G.

So yea, I'm sending out an electrician to replace some damn fuses. The best price I got was from a guy named Buster for about $150. For fuses. 

I am much more comfortable with Buster than I was with the other completely rational option I was considering: getting on an airplane, flying over there, renting a car, running into to Lowes, buying the fuses, screwing them into the fuse box and flying back--which was sounding like a completely reasonable course of action around 1 p.m. today. But that was before I found my new pal, Buster. 

And, lest you think $150 is ridiculous price to replace these stupid things (who, I ask you, steals fuses??), I found much higher prices. Including from Flunky, who's price was somewhere close to Rwanda's GNP. Is there any wonder I never use my property management company to fix the most basic of items? 

But the most irritating part of this entire ordeal isn't necessarily that I have to buy fuses. Instead, what annoys me the most is that I had to spend way too much time on finding the "best price" for fuse installation. Because there should never be a "best price" for this kind of nonsense. 

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