I spent this weekend with Hubster at the new house… cattleprodding my contractor to work. I swear to you, it’s like herding cats to get this guy to focus on the task and not wander off. He would look up from a tool and suddenly realize that there was a sky outside he needed to look at – it may be a different sky from the one that was there the day before. Or he’d remember where he left his retainer in the second grade and need to go confirm its location.
And when he did wander off, he would return to see that the cabinets were still being installed by myself and the amazing Hubster.
The contractor even commented that we didn’t really need him because we get so much work done when he’s eating, paying bills, buying oil for his vehicle. You know, all the sorts of things you typically do when you’re off work, not when the paying client is standing in the house waiting on you. It was at this point that the mild-mannered Hubster, who had been keeping me sane and rational, lost his shit and started shaking in rage.
I had to confiscate all his tools for an hour while he cooled off.
At this point, we’re not really sure why we’re paying a contractor. We’re at the house every single day, working. It’s not like we are just checking in on the progress. We are literally doing actual labor that we are paying someone else to do.
But, we have cabinets installed and no one died. Hubster said he’d buy me a new toilet for the bathroom since he won’t need to bail me out of jail for manslaughter.
I told him to hold onto that money until the contractor is officially out of our house next week.
It’s not even like the contractor is a bad guy. He’s actually a very nice guy. But I hate his guts. I have zero patience for adults, it was all used up with the Littles. I could listen to a Little whine, cry, moan, and screech for days… but this contractor makes me want to rip my ears off and kill everything that moves.
One more week. I need to get him to paint the cathedral ceilings and get his crap out of my house.
I can do this.
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