Chapter 19: Regardless, I'm Still Bored

Scratch my itch!

I did. Mike Porter. I knew he wasn't the one but I wanted a normal life.

He scratched all my itches and I scratched all of his. We did not wait.

Mike was five years older than me. I satisfied his itches, he satisfied mine. We were both trust fund kids. I had money, he had money, we had money. We signed a prenup and married in 1981, when I was 18.

We honeymooned on my sail boat, by now completely stripped of the 102 million bucks stashed behind the 'paneling'. I was right, the paneling WAS cheap photo finish particle board. The entire inside between the fancy mahogany posts was 100 dollar bills. Fifty feet long and 8 feet high money. Two sides.

"I'm out the door, Wendy. See you when I get back."

"Where to this time, Mike?"

"Business. Can't say more than that. Don't want to jinx my luck."

"Bye, Mike."

"Bye, Wendy."

I have a BIG house, but I have housekeeper. Maria even does windows.

A huge yard, but Manuel always keeps it looking sharp.

I could shop, but I have clothes I've never worn.

I have a social secretary, but I never go anywhere ... Mike is never home and I tried going alone. THAT didn't work. Hostess don't like the balance upset. Inviting a single man upsets me. They expect me to be grateful.

I have a huge family ... who are all busy with PTA and nursery school. I have nothing to say except, 'that's nice' when they start bragging on their kids. Even the Moms have teens in sports and clubs.

I have a pilots license, with every endorsement possible ... except jet fighters ... Damn Marines balked about that ... I could go to Russia and learn to fly their fighters...

DING DONG.

"I'll get it, Maria." I had to race her to the door.

"Good Morning, Ma'am. Is the man of the house in?"

A salesman ... in jeans and tee shirt?

"No, he's away on business. Maybe I can help?"

"I doubt it..." BIG heavy sigh. "Just ... Well, Umh, could I at least show you our product. I'm not having any luck and if I don't get a lead for my boss, I'm going to lose this job too."

"I'm pretty bored, Sure. Show me what you got."

"Ok ... I represent..."

"No ... just show me ... come on to the kitchen and I'll get you some tea. Well? Come on, I don't bite and you'll be safe, I have a housekeeper. Come on."

The kid ... he couldn't be 19, stepped in and followed me to the kitchen. Maria, disapproving as always when I did something unusual, poured two glasses of tea and found something 'necessary' to do in the kitchen. We sipped our tea and made inconsequential small talk. Like I said, I'm bored.

With the last sip downed, the kid said, "Wow. Nice house. There's just one thing I noticed that needs doing to the outside. When the builders finish these fine brick homes, and I must say, your's is the nicest in town...

"The builders never consider what extra expense painting the overhangs causes for the homeowner. Paint is not what it used to be ... and for that matter, neither is the wood. I noticed as I was walking by that the paint on the soffit is already starting to bubble. Let me show you what I mean."

We stepped out to the patio, Maria following. The kid pointed to the roof overhang.

"The shingles stop at the drip edge ... that vertical board under the edge of the roof is called the fascia ... it covers the ends of the rafters ... the board that runs parallel to the ground, this one ... is the soffit. See the bubbles?

"How old is this house?"

"We had it built before the wedding ... seven years."

"Seven years? The builder didn't do your husband any favors. Paint should last longer than that. You wouldn't happen to have a ladder?"

I did happen to have a ladder in the garage.

"Maria? Would you be so kind as to toggle the Lincoln door? Thank you.

"Well, come on ... let's get the ladder."

"Nice garage, you can't see it from the road ... the paint on these soffits is bubbling too.

"This garage is newer than the house?" He looked the question.

I held up two fingers.

"Two years old? Let me get that ladder, ma'am. Wood ladders are heavy ... they're the best ladders, but heavy."

"Thank you. I bought that ladder. I wanted the best."

"Most people buy aluminum ladders."

"I know. They conduct electricity and I'm klutz enough to electrocute myself. That's the main reason I bought wood."

"By the way, I'm Jimmy." Jimmy pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket and poked one of the bubbles. It shattered. "The painters didn't prime this plywood, ma'am."

Jimmy slid his knife under the edge of the paint and huge piece fell off.

"If you were going to paint to protect the wood, all this should be scraped, sanded, primed and then painted ... look, even the fascia paint is cracking and the paint on the brick molding. Two years? Who built this?"

"Johnson and Edwards," I said.

"Ma'am? I hate to be the bearer of bad news but, they're no longer in business. Fly by nighters ... there are a lot of homeowners they ripped off. Don't get me wrong, the house is sound, they made their money in the details ... mostly in cheap paint and roofing."

"Ok ... I can see that this needs to be redone, Do you do that?" I questioned.

Jimmy smiled, he might make a sale. "No ma'am. We cover the wood with aluminum, custom bent to fit. Never needs paint ... washes with a power washer. Protects the quality of your home ... we do windows too. I can have a salesman stop by within the week to make the deal. Can I set up an appointment ... a time good for you?"

"Jimmy. You sold me. I don't need a Closer. Can I call your office?"

"Sure, the number is ... The boss is Jack Black. Black's Roofing and Siding."

"You do roofing, too?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come in the kitchen. I'll call." I turned to Maria. "Maria, please make Jimmy a sandwich."

I did call. I'll admit I had a hard time convincing Mr. Black I was serious about seeing Jimmy got the commission ... until I mentioned I was Wendy Porter and I'd pay cash if he sent his best crew and they taught me how to do the work...

"Jack? I'm bored. I'm too young to be bored. I fly my own aircraft, sail my own boat ... but my housekeeper won't even let me pour my own glass of water. My gardner won't let me weed my own flowers. I can't wash my clothes or do my own ironing. I'm willing to pay your best crew to teach me how to do this.

"Oh, roof the place, too. Jimmy tells me the builders used cheap shingles.

"Measurements? I'll call you back. Come on, Jimmy. Jack needs the measurements."

In the middle of the job, Mike called. "The customer is taking me to Jamaica for the weekend. Meet me?" I could tell he wasn't all that sincere about it.

"Sorry Mike, I'm busy. Have fun."

I learned. Being able to read minds helped me not make the stupid mistakes. I still made mistakes, just not the idiot moves. By the time Mike got back, the house was done, the new roofing was going on the garage.

"Wendy? What's up with the roofers? The garage is only two years old. Did we have a hail storm?"

"Mike? Your buddies, Johnson and Edwards, ripped off half the town and left. They used cheap roofing and cheap paint. I did the soffit, fascia and windows and had the roof done on the house and garage. After we got into it you would be upset at what we found."

"I did? We found? Wendy, you didn't?"

"Did. I got bored so I learned a trade for those long winter weeks when you're away. I have a business. I'm 'Wendy Does It. Siding and Windows.'

"I even have an internet website, wendydoesit.com, I've had a lot of really weird email responses."

Mike exploded into laughter. "I'll just bet you've had weird responses."

He turned on the computer. It loaded to my homepage. My best portrait picture, just a hint of cleavage ... I've always been proud of my boobs ... in an oval, with 'Wendy' over the top and 'Does It' hugging the bottom, and my email address. you had to scroll down to see the Siding and Windows.

He broke into loud laughter. "Has your dad seen this?"

"Yup ... same reaction. But I'm doing his house next."

Jack Black said I was the fastest learner and best applicator he's ever had. The brochure people came out to the house when I was doing the dormers and my house graced the sales brochure ... It was into it's 6th printing when I finally saw one. I had no idea my shorts were that short. Cheeks of tan. Girl. Cheeks of tan.

I needed a truck. I had my stainless but a 'vette motor isn't practical for a work truck. I was looking in one of Mike's Auto Trader's and found an ad:

1967 Dodge PowerWagon. Short. Narrow. Farm truck. No rust. ATMT1520.'

I responded to Auto Trader, charged five bucks to my card. They emailed pictures and a phone number, Havre, Montana. It looked like a farm truck. Short narrow box four by four. The photo of the speedometer showed 37 thousand miles, (Probably the second time around.)

I called. "Never been off the ranch," the lady said. The price was right.

"Mikey? Sweetie? Can I borrow your F-250 and trailer? I'll give you a hummer." When that chore was out of the way, I convinced him to pay for my 'new' truck. He's so easy.

I loaded up the duffle and my hat ... called Jack Black and told him I was going to get a truck and I'd call him when I got back.

This time I STAYED on US 2 all the way to Havre. I didn't made any detours or special stops. I drove as close to 500 miles a day as I could get and stayed at motels I'd pre registered for.

The truck was ... a farm truck. Like all farm trucks, it started right up. Like all farm trucks it had worn paint from hauling hay. It still had it's original plates from 1967 and the '67 registration and title. The lady had all the original paper work and even the owners manual. I paid $300.00, loaded it in the trailer, hauled it to Havre to the Courthouse and got the title transferred. When I told the clerk it was going to Michigan she didn't even try to sell me plates. I had my truck ... Canada was only a hop, skip and a jump to the north. Yup ... I did it ... stupid again.

It all started because I wanted to see the Wahkpa Chu'gn Buffalo Jump. I mentioned I was interested at the Court house.