OK, starting on Thursday, we will no longer have a bathroom. This has been sort of a foreign concept, one that was vague, that was a long way off, August, or perhaps even September. Somewhere, out in the future, we will have no bathroom. I was leisurely making trips to Home Depot, buying the wrong thing, stockpiling the boxes out on the patio. This has been planned for months and months, but for far away on the calendar, many pages out.
Then I got the call. The Bathroom Guy needs to start now! You do not tell the Bathroom Guy to come back later, because later could be December 2008! You say OK, no problem! So no problem means Thursday-my birthday is also bathroom ripping out day!
And it gets even better, because the Roof Guy (which is actually multiple guys, see Hippie Party and Square Dancing posts, involving a son going back to college soon who works for very cheap-exactly my Budget!) also has a time opening and it happens to be the same time opening as the Bathroom Guy! When I mention this to the Bathroom Guy, he is not very happy because the roof action takes place just outside the bathroom where the items are all stockpiled and where he envisions placing saws and extension cords and his cooler. Under falling rotting roof beams and roof guy saws and drills! He said send the Roof Guy away til later. The Roof Guy would hear nothing of it-If we want him to deal with the weird roof thing that NO OTHER GUY WILL DEAL WITH it has to start immediately.
I am already a bad General Contractor. I cannot control the Guys. They are just coming and will work it out amongst themselves. It is chaos! I am building more ghetto gates and fences everywhere in my Guy Letting out a Dog paranoia and my house looks worse by the minute. The thought of one Mexican puppy and one blind wandering Timmy roaming the streets is too much to bear so I am turning each entrance to the house into a fortress. I buy the wrong things at Home Depot and have to return them. I am in total denial that I have a portable RV toilet sitting on the back patio and soon will be forced to not just use it, but share it with the Guys, being told it is best to try not to have too many feces in it. I ramble on to the unfortunate few who actually will still talk to me about the exciting marble remnant I found for cheap from Ramone-almost as exciting as Gustavo finally getting the concept of "Down" and the whole clicker thing.
Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
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