Beads and General Contractors

Ok, you guys all think it's a scream that I have to have my daily infusion of wine. This is why.

I'm sitting here thinking I haven't blogged for a while but blogging is no fun unless you have fun stories to relate. So, while I am pondering what to chat about, there's a knock on my door. It's the guy who I think is going to cut out a slab of drywall in our about-to-be-renovated master bath. Now, anyone who knows drywall knows that it is cut with a box cutter. Zip, zip, zip. All done. One guy. Easy. Did this happen? Of course not.

To explain just why this guy is going to whack out a slab of drywallwill take a small aside here. Our building needs its air conditioning pipes clad with that foam rubberish like stuff to keep the pipes from sweating. Well, it doesn't really keep them from sweating but it does absorb the moisture so you don't wake up to 3 inches of water in your bathroom every day. So, the building hired gawd-only-knows-who to come and do the work. Ok, so the guy appears at my door.

I open the door to find that there are THREE men who all want to tear out a chunk of our drywall. I thinks, hmmmm, drywall simply does not need THREE men. To say they are an odd bunch is putting it mildly. One is a local boy with the requisite 30 pounds of gold hanging off him. And earrings. Think Mr T. Just WHO goes to a construction job wearing gold? Ok, the other two are haole guys. One looks like he's lost his best friend and his dog and doesn't know how to sing country western to lament this deplorable situation. The other guy looks like a homicidal maniac just escaped from Pelican Bay. I edge away while furtively checking his hands and arms for prison tats. I also edge closer to my knife drawer.

Ok, they all troop into the bathroom while talking in VERY LOUD VOICES about how hot it is. This is odd because the local guy is the loudest. Usually, local people are quiet. Soft spoken. Normal. These 3 sounded like they were trying to talk to their pals at Pelican Bay. For those of you who might not know what Pelican Bay is, I will enlighten you.

Pelican Bay is in California. It is one of America's nastiest prisons. For the worst of the worst.

Needless to say, I am leery of these guys. But, they seem fine and immediately get to work wrecking our wall. Really. What should have taken one guy about 10 minutes took three guys 45 minutes. For some reason they had an awful time getting the drywall out. Yelling the entire time about it must be the paint. How reassuring. Three doofs come to my house to remove drywall and they can't cut through paint??? I resist the urge to get up and go show them how it's done.

After an enormous amount of sweat, swearing and general griping they get the piece of drywall out. They clean the place then the local guy decides to drink out of our bathroom faucet. Oiks. All of a sudden I hear him yell. SHIT! Hot water is coming out of the faucet! Country Western bellows, TRY THE OTHER FAUCET, MAN! Hot water is coming out of both faucets. Local Boy is not amused. I go and get them all bottled water which seems to calm them right down.

I now think, shit. Last week they turned off all the water in the entire building for 4 days so they could solve this problem. Quite obviously, they have failed magnificently. I can now hear my wine rattling around in the fridge.

So, I think they are done but no. I find Local Boy sitting in the hallway outside my door. I ask, what are you doing? Do you need more water? I think maybe he's hyperventilating or dehydrated from all that bellowing. Turns out that someone has absconded with his screwdriver. Yes. His screwdriver. I offer ours. He says no thanks he has one in his truck. Ok, how to respond? If I say, well, moron, go get it, he'll probably not be happy. So I ask, your boss only gave you one screwdriver? No, they ALL have screwdrivers but left them in their trucks.

Why? I am afraid to ask. Now, they KNEW that they were going to have to screw a chunk of ply over the gaping hole in our wall. So, why did they leave their screwdrivers in their trucks? It remains one of life's little mysteries.

Finally, Local Boy decides that maybe it won't tax him too much to walk the 20 feet out to his truck. He does, gets his screwdriver and comes back. Sure enough, the other two show up with one screwdriver between them. Can we say Keystone Kops yet??

They screw in the ply with more grunting, groaning and poor language. But, they leave the bottom of the drywall a disaster. I will have to go tape it up or every roach in Hawaii will decide to visit us. :( Anyway, they leave with much thanking and bye bye-ing. Whrew. I have escaped unscathed.

A few minutes later there is a knock at my door. There is the cutest little gnome outside. Turns out he is the boss and owner of the company and wants to look at what his men did. Ok, I let him in and lead him to the bathroom. I can see from his face that he is not best pleased. So, I tell him that we are going to be renovating and that drywall is coming out anyway so don't worry. He is relieved. I could hear him thinking whatever the Greek word for "Law suit" is. Then he wants to look at the other bath. Ok, he loves it. Me, too. He is from Greece so we discuss marble for a while. Then he gives me his card and wants me to call him if I need a contractor. I thank him but say we have it covered. I am thinking, this is a nice man until we walk into our kitchen where he looks at the counter top and says, this is beautiful! Is it Corian? CORIAN, I squeak! No, it is not Corian! It's Zodiac, a quartz based counter top. It doesn't look anything like Corian. WHAT is the matter with this gnome? He's a contractor and can't tell what is Corian and what isn't? Yikes.

I feel faint and think strongly about my wine. The gnome leaves after giving me 4 business cards. I lock the door and think about having a small bonfire with those business cards. Jeez. Corian. :(

Then I decide I will be strong and take some pictures before drinking some wine. So, I do. And this picture is a bracelet I made for my friend for Christmas. It's my first try at right angle weave. Now that I have shown you my bracelet, I am off to drink some wine. I deserve it.

Corian, my butt. :(