Fortnight

Prologue:

In many languages, there is no single word for a two-week period (e.g. fortnight) and the equivalents of "two weeks" or "fourteen days" have to be used. In Spanish, Italian, French, and Portuguese, there are the terms quincena (or quince días), quindicina, quinzaine, and quinzena, all meaning "fifteen days". Similarly, in Greek, the term δεκαπενθήμερο (dekapenthímero), meaning "fourteen days", is also used. However in Hebrew, the single-word (shevuiem) שבועים means exactly "two weeks". The Hindu calendar uses the Sanskrit word "paksha" to mean one half of a lunar month, which is between 14 and 15 solar days. In Welsh, the term pythefnos, meaning "fifteen nights", is used instead. This is in keeping with the Welsh term for a week, which is wythnos ("eight nights").


Actual post (and why you need to know the above):

Remember that excited dizzying post I wrote on Monday?  The one where I was so gosh dern happy to have written my letter to temporary-housing-manager-people about how I only have 30 (THIRTY) more days living in this transient, colorless (white walls / beige carpet) world?  Well, fuggedaboutit.  Plans. have. changed.

Precisely 20 minutes after I posted that blog I headed to the rental office - happy, happy, happy, skippy, skippy, skippy.  I was overjoyed imagining only 30 more days of laundromats, 30 more days of dealing with neighbors who are simply PIGS when it comes to dumpster usage (it's a big damn hole -- get your garbage inside it), only 30 more days of not seeing my stuff, only 30 more days of having to kindly avoid my weirdly skeevy flirtatious mailman, only 30 more days of having my car sitting outside in the rain, pollen, sun and dirt.

Riding on the thoughts of "all things never to be missed" I buoyantly delivered my letter, then hopped in the car and hied over to the CMR to see the "new new stain colors."   I was still pretty happy happy skippy skippy - - cause dang - - they got them there stain colors just about perfect this time!  About 40 minutes have passed at this point.

Then (cue evil bom-bom-bom music) in walks GC Paul who delivers the news, "Well, the team met this morning and discussed all that still needed to be done.   Well, it looks like we are delayed at least until the middle of April."  Just then, I began to hear this terrible squealing-buzzing-high-pitched-humming-sound in my head.  His mouth, I think, was still moving.  I wasn't listening any more.

Of COURSE they're going to do everything they can make sure it gets done by mid-April.  Because, Of COURSE that's what they said in December when we were delayed the 2 months that time.   I have been ASSURED that they will use their full efforts.  What's that old adage "Fool me once?" - - I'm definitely in the "shame on me" section of that little truism nugget.

Now I'm unhappy unhappy unhappy, unskippy, unskippy, unskippy.  But, whatcha gonna do?  Am I going to bitch about it for a couple of days?  Of course I am.  Will this make them work any faster?  Of course it won't.  That's the real beauty of it.  Even if I moan and complain.  Even if I whine and stamp my feet and say , "Hey wait a cotton-picking minute -- you TOLD me..." - - Truth is, I'm not the one holding the power tool.  I am power-tool-less.

But, it's time to stop dwelling, put on my big girl pants and go stare at my white walls and my beige carpeting. I'll choke down my paksha-pythefinos-quindecina-shevuiem.