Well, for starters, I don’t want to be a bore, but I had to laugh when we had to call the plumber (again), as Mike did not manage to install the toilet by himself. My 2 readers may know that plumbers are a luxury, and Devon does not bring shame to his profession. He is a good looking black man, looks like Michael Jordan in size and width and is now, I dare to say, consider as family. I like Devon, but he is becoming a sort of a costly visit. The design budget might be busted, but now I have a toilet that doesn’t leak to my new floor.

Essentiality begs for vanities with working faucets, as here at home we still keep the habit of brushing teeth and other hygienic clean ups. As I assembled the vanities, Mike was taking some measurements to install them, mark it here, there, we have to anchor it on the wall, great, get the drill and DRILL THE …ON THE HOT WATER PIPE, run, shut-off the water, dry it up, call DEVON.
Mysaintofdesperatecauses* this is never gonna end.

Devon had to cut into the dry wall, remove the insulation, fix the pipe, great. Turn the water back on, write one more check to Devon, who at this point might be cheering for Mike to make another mistake so he can come back here to fix it. Even the dog doesn’t bother to bark at him anymore.

And this saga seems to go on and on, as Mike now decided to remove and replace the entire drywall and do the wiring for the new light fixtures, remove the Hollywood lights and life is good.
As for me, I remain silent, working like an ant. Here at home, we like to live dangerously.


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