Double Ugh.

As discovered a week ago, my roof is leaking.

For townhouses, home insurance policies typically cover drywall to drywall. Homeowner associations are usually responsible for exteriors and roofs.

The gray area is where failure to the exterior causes damage to the interior. I'm not sure who's responsible, but apparently it's me.

This was a perfect opportunity to call the ever-helpful HOA. They said they have a handyman on retainer. He's on vacation til, "We're not sure when." There were a bunch of other things said that aren't really worth saying.

The final chapter of this story has yet to be written.

A different story has been written, though. Titled, "Jeremy's a Sucker". Authored by PNC Bank, it's currently in first edition.

A couple months ago, we randomly ran into a couple friends at a beer festival. After some fun times in the sun, we went to a local restaurant. The two friends joined our group and ordered food. A few minutes later, they realized they had had too much to drink, so they quickly got up and left.

Not before asking if I would cover the $10 chicken salad they ordered.

The check was about $70. I tipped and signed, ultimately leaving both the customer copy ($70) and the signed merchant copy ($83) in the little black book.

A couple days later, I noticed PNC debited both $70 and $83 for the restaurant. As I would later learn, most restaurants will accumulate a stack of all credit card receipts, then run them through at the end of the night.

I admit there is some onus on me to remove the customer copy from the little black book, but it's probably also on the restaurant to filter these buggers out before running everything through. Assuming they need to look for signatures and tip amounts.

But whatever. A mistake's a mistake. Not intentional, I'm sure. So I called PNC, then I called the restaurant. PNC issued a temporary credit for $70, which was great. The restaurant said it was fine to just have PNC pull the lower charge back.

PNC then sent me a dispute letter, which I needed to fill out to make my claim. This was sent back, but apparently not enough to make my case. Provisional credit reversed, and I ultimately pay twice as much for a drunk friend's chicken salad that someone else ate.

I hope their hangover lasted twice as long, too.

: )

Gettin' In the Zone

Work has been crazy busy.

Last Wednesday I was in Cleveland. Friday, it was Erie.

We're planning to move locations in Erie, so my dad and I went up there to look at a few buildings. The first place was a vacated warehouse and storefront that used to be a bakery. It was filled with a bunch of dusty old equipment and giant walk-in coolers.

There was also a bunch of food-grade grease and oil all over the floor. It was pretty gross, and the place smelled like a dead animal stuffed with baking flour and other wheat-based thingies.

The second place was a magazine and newspaper distribution center that sat next to a dance club.



The seller then told us it was a gay dance club.

He looked at us, concernedly. He didn't know how to read us. After all, we are just a couple of dummies that sell car paint. From Butler, no less. The hard sell began.

He said the owners of The Zone were the best neighbors he could have asked for. "They keep the place under control. It's quiet. No litter in the parking lots."

There was a pause. He was nervous. "Uh, cars aren't left overnight by over-indulgers..."

We stood quiet; the two dummies looking back at him. Sweat was beading up on his forehead. He rattled off more positive attributes. More positive scenarios. He was persuasive and plausible. He was in the zone.

My dad cut to the chase and said it didn't matter. I agreed. I said I wasn't gay but liked to dance. I did an impromptu moonwalk. The seller laughed. My dad didn't.

All of a sudden we're down to one dummy in the room. A dancing dummy.

The place ended up being really great, and that's what really mattered. Much better than the bakery. I think that's actually where we may end up. We have a contractor going up to plan some renovations. Friday: success.

As for Saturday, I woke up with a strong intent to ride. A solid 90%.

The weather forecast didn't look all that great, but halfway through making sweet potato pancakes my 90% was still holding strong.

About halfway through eating said pancakes, it was down around 0%.

We thought we'd get some work done around the house. Maybe go for a hike. Instead, we drove down to Shadyside and ate a bunch of food with Gotch on the patio at Harris Grill.

Ok, so not from this weekend. But I'm really in the mood for Thai, so I added it. This is at Nicky's sorta-new downtown spot.

I got a nice ride in on my Fargo, on Sunday. Ryanne had plans with her dad at North Park, so I was given a free pass to get lost by myself. I punched my ticket shortly after breakfast. Destination: unknown.

The day was super nice. I managed to stop at my parents part-way through and visit for a bit. I was getting a little sleepy, so I high-tailed it to Mars to get some espresso, then made my way home. A few miles short of a century with a bunch of climbing. Sunday: success.

Oh, I found what may be my new favorite roast for espresso. It's from Counter Culture in Georgia. I bought a bag of whole bean at Espresso a Mano in Lawrenceville. They have it for $13.75. It's pretty rich, creamy and bold. I would recommend pulling a shot or two, regardless of time of day or caffeine quantity already-consumed.

Or you can just meet me at Espresso a Mano, because that just may be my new favorite place.