This Hive's a Buzzin'

OK, so I snuck out of work early to meet some men. Don't get too excited, they were the type that fix broken stuff. Like my ducts and electrical under the house.

Did you know there are people you can pay to crawl under the house to do stuff? Like the stuff I did the other day. I think I may have referred to it as "the most vile job I've ever done." If I didn't type that I certainly thought it. There were probably curse words peppered throughout those thought as well. Obviously, I didn't know that a phone call would have brought people to do said work. Now I know. Handy, since this area floods frequently. Awesome.

Like the past two days, today is beautiful. There is a blissfully cool breeze, the birds are singing, the sun is out and the stinky puddles of storm water are evaporating. If it wasn't for the growing piles of storm damaged carpet, insulation, wallboard and tree limbs, branches, leaves dotting the curbs, you'd think no storm had come through here. But the multi-billion dollar clean up makes it ever so clear that Irene left a mark here.

Part of her temporary mark is in the form of service trucks and vans; men and women who come in, some from as far away as Georgia and Alabama, to get us back on our feet. Though they don't blend with the decor of the neighborhood, they are an accessory I don't mind.

As I turned in to my neighborhood I saw all kinds of vans and trucks and cars with signage like "Getem Pest Control." That one made me smile. Then it made me sad that someone is dealing with flood damage and found some sort of pest infestation. I guess when it rains it pours. (And floods and then things creep and crawl.)

I got to thinking, one man's disaster is another man's meal ticket. I guess it it the circle of life in suburbia, right? What I think is really cool is that every service professional I've talked to over the last few days has said thank you to me. They are glad I am considering them for the job. And here I am thinking that I won't be able to pay enough money to get someone to crawl under this house and work in the two feet of space to get me the comforts of air conditioning. Seriously. It is dark and creepy and claustrophobic, and now it is smelly and wet.

Actually, in some places, there are inches of space to work. Nope, can't pay me enough. At this point in the clean up, I'm so grateful to the people who are here to help us get back to normal. They've thanked me for the business. I'd like to thank them for doing what they do without complaint or profane thoughts. Then I'll write them a big fat check.

When was the last time you were thanked for something that you totally thought you should be doing the thanking for?