Washington, D.C.; Back Rubs and Fire Alarms
Its Sunday. I’m still on the seven day schedule at the massage parlor. I don’t really have time for this seven day crap, but that’s the cards I’ve been dealt right now.
Ivy was on her extended weekend that I’ve been telling you about. Just to bring you up to date, Ivy and three friends found some app on one of their smart phones for some company that sends people on surprise vacations. I didn’t need or have an app to send me on surprise vacation, I had a Dad for that. Every time he said we were going on vacation he would say, “We’re going on vacation.” One of the brothers would say, “We went on vacation ten years ago, we’re going again?” I’ve used that strategy on both batches of my kids.
Sorry, I drifted a little. I think I’m a little stressed about this massage parlor thing.
Anyway, Ivy and her friend’s surprise vacation took them to Washington D.C. What a time to be in Washington, D.C.
Ivy’s friends were from Louisiana and Michigan. That does have anything to do with the story, but I’m kind of jealous Ivy has more friends than I do, and some of her friends live far away. Sorry, stress got to me a for a minute.
I guess this app thing worked like this. You tell your smart phone how much time you want to be on vacation, how much you want to spend, and where you’ve been recently, Then the little guys in your smart phone pick where you are going on vacation. The phone picked Washington, D.C.
Ivy has been texting little photos of the Washington and Lincoln monuments, the White House and the Smithsonian to my “smart” phone, I’ve seen photos of all that stuff before, but they were bigger. I’ve actually seen them in person, when I was stuck working in Richmond, Virginia.
I thought I was going to be running the store while Ivy was gone, but I had to let Elaine run it, as I cannot get the massage parlor finished. I had all these wonderful ideas that I could put in place; I guess I will need to wait until Ivy’s smart phone sends her on another vacation.
Now that I have mentioned the store, YOUR DAILY FIBER, I can talk about the massage parlor.
This place is going to be nice. This building has nice tile, carpet, cool massage beds, and stuff. I guess they are going to do cool stuff, not to me, but you guys will enjoy it. I lived in seven different decades without paying for someone to rub my back and feet, I don’t see me changing that now. Sorry, was that too much information? I told you, I’m stressed.
As I am sitting here in my home on a Sunday morning typing this story, I have had twenty text messages and two phone calls from the workers at the massage parlor. (Not kidding.) I am considering driving the 50 miles to work after I write this.
The massage parlor is scheduled to open this week. I use the word scheduled because it may not open. I have been told this is one of four or five franchised massage parlors in the country. The blueprints are the worst I have ever seen. The parlor is basically finished and we are still moving lights in the walls, lowering shower curtains, repairing drywall and getting final inspections.
While all this is going on, the franchise owner is stocking shelves with makeup and stuff and training staff. Let’s not get it wrong, I know the franchise owner is just trying to get open. That is the way they are going to make a living and pay for all this. Small business, you have to love it. Support it!
I mentioned final inspections. Friday I/we needed to test the fire alarm. Think about it, we’re going to test the fire alarm in a mall; an open and crowded mall, which by the way is required by law. The fire alarm test is observed by the local fire department.
I notified the mall management one week before the test and again twenty minutes before the test. Immediately before the test, a fire alarm technician announces on the Public Address system that the fire alarm system will be tested. The mall patrons should not panic and run for the exits. The test takes about five minutes.
Within minutes of the completed test, I received texts and emails from the mall manager, let’s call him Dick, (not his real name, but, ah…..you know what I mean) informing me we would be fined for an unscheduled alarm test. I wanted to share some of my best construction language with Dick, but I was asked not to. However Dick, we won’t be paying a fine.
OK, I need to stop writing and get to work. Backs need to be rubbed!
Our crazy lives!