Now my main bathroom is hanging in tatters. Demo is very fast. Like, minutes-fast. The rebuilding and installing takes considerably longer. Like, weeks-long. I help my contractors by trotting bits of stuff out to the dumpster, and making Christopher get up so he can lift the heavy pieces. I am sitting, still, at the dining room table to work. Christopher is sitting beside me, which I do not like very much at all.
He jiggles his leg when he sits at his computer. This makes my monitor wiggle, and then it makes me car sick. So I smack him, and he never sees it coming because he has his headset on. That element of surprise is about the only joy I get out of all of this. Just now, in the spirit of companionship, I offered to sing Adele for him. He asked that I not do that.
When the noise got really bad this morning, and I was on a deadline that wasn't happening, Christer offered me his headphones. I put them on, and told him to dial me up something soothing to listen to. He clicked a button (I couldn't see what, but I'm pretty sure it said Old Fart Music), and before you know it, I had blocked out the saws and was rocking out to Coldplay. Christer asked me to stop yelling when I spoke. He then asked me stop singing. He then told me to just be quiet all together.
By yesterday, the toilet that worked was in the new basement bathroom. The shower that worked was in the upstairs bathroom. The kitchen sink was working in between. We were sitting at the table last night, and Christer got up to use the bathroom. Christer's girlfriend Pam and I both sat here as quiet as little bugs as we watched him go all the way upstairs, groan when he realized there was no toilet, then have to go all the way to the basement. I like Pam because she is as evil as I am.
You may not know this, but when people do plumbing type work, they have to touch nasty things. I stand there with a look on my face - you know the look - and they just carry on, and give me a glance that says 'well, what did you think, Princess, this stuff just did itself?'. This morning at the foot of the stairs in the basement, Maggie had snarked up a hairball. When Steve got here, he started going down the stairs, stopped and told me I might want to clean that up, because it was really gross. The man who has been snaking out 40 years of poop pipes jumps at a hairball.
Maggie said she didn't do it; she pointed to JoJo.
Update: I noticed that Christer has taken off his headset. Believing very much in seize the day (though carp diem makes me think more of ten cent goldfish), I again offered to sing Adele. He again said no. "I know most of the words, even," I assured him. Again he said no. "And the bits I can't remember, I just do 'nah, nah, nah, nah'...." Sorry Adele. Have to murder your songs another day.