If I had been alone in the house last week, I would have had a lovely time eavesdropping on the workmen who installed my new bathroom ceilings, stair handrail, and back door. They were characters: the phlegmatic foreman (picture 1960 Peter Graves from Mission Impossible sighing, “Well, that’s the job.”), the excitable second man (picture a man much like current day Gary, shouting, “NO I DIDN’T LOSE THAT HOW COULD I THIS HOUSE IS TOO SMALL DON’T BLAME ME”), the profane one (picture a genial grandpa type yelling “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING SHIT,” upon which he was immediately slapped down by Phlegmatic Foreman).
Instead, I was in the house with them plus Gary and Goldie, both trapped in Gary’s computer / library room. Goldie at least had a litter box, but Gary declared both bathrooms off limits because, I suppose, he didn’t want to slow the workmen down by even a minute. Or perhaps his bladder was too shy to pee with other people in the house.
So there was a lot of moaning and yowling at the end of each day when Gary and Goldie were released from their self-imposed prison. Otherwise it would have been a lovely week of amusing men in my house calling me “Ma’am.”
2 responses to “Door, Ceilings, Handrail”
*siiiiiiigh* I bet that would have been hilarious.
But also it is true that the work may have gone slightly more slowly. (possibly also with less profanity if you were visible)
KC – it went quickly, considering that they spent the entire day here. I’m accustomed to workmen bailing for other clients who are squeakier. I was reminded of the adage “You can’t have anything good, fast, and cheap, just two out of three.” They seemed good and fast.