Reno Humor: Fly on the Wall

2026-08-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to our monthly Fly on the Wall, a blog post written in snippets. Marcia, Diane, and I invite you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes, at our writing desks, and in our worlds. Come on in, buzz around, see what we've been up to. Bet you laugh!

In July's blog post, Exciting and Exhausting, I talked about my son's company moving him back here and the whirlwind purchase of his first house. Last month's post, More Diamond, Less Rough, was about the 7 weeks I spent as the general contractor for my son's home while he was back in Boulder finishing up work there and waiting for the movers. It was completely exhausting and often frustrating day after day, but worth every minute.

In today's post, I'm going to share a few stories about some of what happened along the way. Last house renovation post, I swear!

In those 7 weeks as general contractor, I spoke to 27 tradespeople, took estimates, and hired 13 of them. Each had a crew, some small, some large. I had to have met and worked with 35 - 40 people. I thoroughly enjoyed working with and getting to know all of them except one. One guy was an absolute nightmare, but everyone else, from business owners to workers, were friendly, patient as I learned from them, hard-working, interesting, professional, and some just fun to be around.

I got to know some of them so well, we'd text fairly regularly, I was comfortable enough to joke with them.

I was waiting for the floor guy to come, I'd been told he's just be there an hour or two so I intended to just stay until he was done to lock up after him, as I didn't yet have a key for him. When he arrived, he told me he'd be there the rest of the day.

The front and back doors have both a locking door knob, and an upper deadbolt that PurDude had added. I told Raul that when he left he should lock the deadbolt on the front door, then the lower lock on the back door, he could then just pull the back door closed to lock it, and I'd be able to get in the front door.

The next day, Saturday, I went to the house and Raul had locked both front door locks. I was locked out.

I called the owner, who sent and paid for a locksmith to pick the lower front lock so I could get in.

I texted PurDude the story that night, then texted the owner the next day:

Me: I hope you find this funny (I didn't). There is a side door to the house that only unlocks from the inside. There is only one key and I have it. PurDude just told me that it also unlocks the lower front and back door locks. Bottom line: I'm paying you back for the locksmith. Please let me know what I owe you.

Him: Funny, not funny. Don't worry, it's all good.

Speaking of locks, here's a lesson learned. If a doorknob is loose, don't close the door all the way.

We had to get down to the basement to empty the dehumidifier. I was in the living room when I heard:

Hubs: Oh, no.

Me: What?
Hubs (standing by the closed door to the basement holding the doorknob): This isn't good.

Me: Great. You broke your kid's house.

And that's how we learned to take a doorknob apart, jimmy our way in, and reattach the knob.

looks kinda sad, doesn't he?

Much better.

BTW, back at home another lesson learned:

Cinnamon and curry powder may look similar in the spice rack (first thing in the morning and without my glasses on, in my defense), but they taste very different in an Apple Harvest Cake.

'nough said.

Apple Harvest Cake

I talk a lot in these posts about autocorrect and the crazy (but funny) way it changes my texts.

While I was there, I was also getting Pudude's mail. One letter was from his mortgage company, his first mortgage payment would be due and they were listing the ways he could pay.

I sent a text to PurDude telling him about the letter. I should have learned by now to read before sending, but this time I didn't. So this is what I went:

Me: You got a letter from your mortgage company. Your mother is due on the first, there are multiple option for how to pay . . .

In the upstairs hall, there's a door to the attic. Runniing from the front of the house with 3 windows to the back of the house with 2 windows, it is an amazing, beautiful, huge space, perfect for finishing as a future project. Just inside that door is a laundry chute straight down to the laundry room in the basement.

On one of our trips to the house, we saw in the laundry room, a pile of rags. There were multiple trades working in the house at the time, so they could have belonged to any of them, but still, a pile of rags on the floor seemed odd.

I had shown the laundry chute to the floor guys. They were using the washing machine outlet for their sander, and for the upper floors, I told them they could just send their cord down the laundry chute to the basement.

I came in the next day while they were sanding, and they told me they couldn't get the cord down the laundry chute. They stuck a stick into the bottom and found there was a blockage. Pushing harder, the blockage came out.

It wasn't rags, it was an entire load of laundry: sheets, clothes, underwear and socks.

I gotta wonder . . . who is in such a rush to move away that they leave their underwear behind?

I tried to play a joke on PurDude. He has a side door that goes up to the kitchen, or down to the basement. I sent him a picture of crime scene tape the concrete guy had put up at his side door and told him someone had tried to break in the night before.

He wasn't fooled. Not for a second. Of course, I might have had a better chance of fooling him if he hadn't known that Jim was replacing the concrete there the day before.

Or maybe not.

Speaking of that side door, this isn't real terrazzo, right?

And speaking of the basement, it's a large, mostly unfinished space broken up into rooms. There are cabinets for storage all around the space, a work room, a laundry room, a wet bar, lots of space (but not continuous, broken up).

The former owners left him a free standing freezer, plugged in and working. A wet bar, plumbed and working. A washer and dryer, plugged in and working. A dehumidifier, plugged in and working.

And a toilet.

In a box.

We had a kind of a good news/bad news situation with the carpet/tile company. These were more people I thoroughly enjoyed working with.

Emilie was our contact at the company, and she just had a great, bubbly personality. Horacio was in charge of our project. We were putting ceramic tile in the front entrance and carpet in 3 bedrooms.

The carpet guy didn't put the trim on the carpet at the doorway because he knew the hall floors were being refinished and this would make it easier on the wood floor guys.

The ceramic tile went in on the porch and I was dismayed, the grout was the wrong color.

I called Emilie, and she said she'd send Horacio over to fix it. She called me later in the day, apologetic. She said it was her fault, she'd ordered the wrong grout color. I told her I appreciated the call but it was no problem since it would be fixed.

The next day I tried to call Emilie and the business phone gave me a message that they were not accepting calls from my number and that I should hang up. Huh?

I called Emilie's personal phone, she didn't pick up, so I left a message, and texted also. I even called from Hubs' phone and asked to have Emilie call me. Nothing.

The next day I saw Horacio at the house. He claimed to know nothing about the message I was getting or Emilie not getting back to me, but at least the tile was now grouted correctly.

Over the next month, I heard not one word from them.

So . . .

Bad news: Doorway trim was missing on the carpet in those 3 bedrooms.

Good news: Also missing was their entire bill.

Update: more good news, the day before PurDude came to town Horacio trimmed the carpet.

And even more good news, still haven't seen a bill.

On the day the floors were finished, I needed to go in the house. I texted the floor guy, who made it clear that I had to wait 6 hours and . . .

Erik: My team just finished the final coating to the floor. Please wait until 4:00. Socks only today, shoes starting tomorrow.

Me: Thank you so much. I'll be there today at 4:00 with my socks on. By socks only, I assume you mean I can still wear my pants and shirt, right?

Phew, he left it up to me.

Now click on the links below and see what my friends have to share:

Menopausal Mother

On the Border

Apple Harvest Cake

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

5 apples, cored, peeled, and chopped

5 TBSP butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 TBSP caramel sauce

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup honey

1/3 cup maple syrup

1 1/4 cups oil

3 eggs

2 tsp vanilla

3 cups flour

1 1/4 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

Directions:

*In a large sauté pan, heat the butter over medium heat until melted. Add the chopped apples and cook, stirring for about 3 minutes, until they just start to soften. Mix in 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, and the caramel sauce, just until the apples are coated. Set aside.

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a bundt pan.

*Whisk together the sugar, remaining brown sugar, honey, maple syrup, oil, eggs, and vanilla until smooth.

*Mix in the flour, baking soda, salt, and remaining cinnamon until completely incorporated.

*Spread about 1/3 of the apple mixture into the bottom of the prepared pan. Mix the rest of the apple mixture into the dough and pour evenly over the apples at the bottom of the pan.

*Bake for 35 - 45 minutes, until the center of the top springs back to the touch. Run a knife around the edges.

*Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then invert onto a serving plate. NOTE: some of the apples may stick to the bottom of the pan, removed them with a knife and place onto the top of the cake.

*Cool completely before slicing.

Baking in a Tornado

Reno Humor: Fly on the Wall