OVER AND GROUT

I hate repair people. I didn't use to. I think it is an acquire taste or passion, I'm not sure which at the moment.

All of this is just a transition in my thinking that took place recently. Mainly after having been stupid enough to presume that just because a person ran an add in the yellow pages that he knew what he was doing.

How stupid of me to think that would make sense. And being the idiot that I am, I just thought there was some reason to think nobody would advertise incompetence. Whoa was I wrong.

It all started naturally when I had the joy of having my wife decide our bathroom was unworthy of her presence. It was humble little room, never demanding that much attention.

Then, thanks to those darn magazines with perfect homes, yeah you know the ones I'm talking about. Yep, those. The ones with the stupid photos of all these rooms that have furnishings and other crap costs a fortune. Right, now you now what I'm talking about.

Well there I was, my wife shoving this magazine in my face and showing me this dream bathroom. I mean come on, bathrooms are great, but do they need to look like they belong in a palace?

I didn't think so. But try telling my wife that she can't live without Italian marble flooring. Man, we don't even speak the language, let alone have an Italian ancestry in our family.

And so I did what most husbands do that like to pretend they are the king of their castle, but in reality are merely serfs to the queen, I gave in. Only I tried to do what I could to save a buck. I mean love is one thing, but I see no reason you can't do it without going bankrupt.

That is when I thought finding an affordable remodeling contractor was a good option. God, how was I supposed to know that affordable meant dumb and stupid as well as incompetent? They sure didn't bother to mention that in their ad.

And I didn't find it out tell it was too late. That means in terms of after wasted two months without them finishing and then when they did dream didn't describe the end product.

Somewhere in my moments of frustration and insanity I managed to survive. Not before spending way too many nights savoring visions of my hands on one overweight, cigar chewing jerk of a lying, dumb ass contractor.

In the end, we survived and we didn't get a new bathroom. Slightly less than as ornate as my wife imagined, but at least the tile is on the floor this time an not on the toilet seat.