Calling all (normal) contractors …

Are there any?  At this point, I’m not sure, and I’m really not feeling very hopeful about it all.  Since our contractor jumped ship, we’ve been on the hunt for a replacement.  The loan money is now sitting in our bank account, interest is building, and I don’t mean the curiosity-related kind.  We’ve had two contractors over to date; one was quiet and informative, but wasn’t available for 2 more months.  The other … well, let’s just say that the guy exuded a weirdness that I hope to never experience in my home again.  His appearance was a big hint … there’s something not normal about having two collared shirts layered over one another, and there’s something even stranger about turning the inside shirt’s collar up.  Hellooooo, 1985.

I know at this point that I don’t have the luxury of being too choosy, but there was just something about this guy.  As soon as he left, I turned to my husband and said, “Um, no.”  He agreed.

I’d order my cracked ice table, but I’d have nowhere to put it.  Kind of anticlimactic, this day.  Here I thought that the money would come in, the contractor would start bashing in the wall, and I’d be happily clicking the “Order Now” button for the chrome table.  Now I just stop by and look at it, like an old friend gazing at familiar photographs.

Maudlin?  Why, yes.  It’s Saturday, and I’ve been up since 5:30, thanks to a vampire-like four-year old who never seems to need sleep.

If only he knew how to do construction.

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