Guerilla Home Improvement

We've been--ever so gradually--getting the flat ready to sell. And yes, we need to get it on the market some time last month. Let's not discuss that. Anyway, one of the last major(ish) projects was to do a mini renovation of the front bathroom. Ditch the old sink and medicine cabinet (beyond hideous) and put in a nice white (cheap) porcelain pedestal sink, a smaller white medicine cabinet that would be (brace yourselves for craziness) low enough for the women in the house to see themselves in it. We're going for a radical change with that one.

A few weeks ago TFL and I trudged to the Home Despot to get the stuff. He called his friend with the contractor guys, and after the usual number of false starts got a firm date--tomorrow.

Naturally, 5 minutes after TFL left this morning and while I was still in a coma violently resisting the notion of getting up with only 4 hours of sleep because of course I didn't go to bed as early as planned last night the doorbell rang.

What the...?

I threw on a robe, too sleepy to curse, and opened the door a crack. Yep, the contractor guys. Uh?

The guy didn't call you?

Uh? One sec? I closed the door again, threw on I don't know what kind of clothes, and let them in before they vanished. So we weren't ready for them, so the place was a disastrous pit, so what--never ever turn away the contractor guys. I stumbled around, showing them where the bathroom was and the supplies (which they could hardly miss, as they were stacked up in the front hall). A few minutes later TFL walked back in--the guy had called. Nice timing.

I left the contractors in TFL's competent hands and skedaddled, and when I got home I had a new bathroom! Yay! Now only 3,999 more things to do. But first I have to recover from being woken up that way.

Comments

[Chris]

Yikes! Maybe more shocking, but as effective as coffee for waking up?