Or maybe it's an infestation of large ferrets. Meerkats, perhaps? In the process of remodeling a house that essentially is made up of only two rooms it's difficult to keep up with the ensuing disaster. Add children and things go downhill at a rate that is immeasurable. Add several days of migraines, more paperwork than is absolutely necessary, and actual work that earns money and you very quickly loose your hold on reality. I'm certain that chicken (that we don't have) is living in cleaner quarters. No matter what I do each day, the same mess returns within an hour of work on this blessed bathroom. And the smell, well I'm not going to complain, but I suspect it is a rather migrainous trigger. The tile man (Buddy) is having enough troubles of his own. Tiles not sticking and whatnot. I think we're within a day or two of hearing an actual classified curse word issue forth from his lips. The last time I heard that was maybe 2003 or so. It's been, "Come on, I can't believe this." or "Dad gum it." so far, but I believe the edge of his so-called verbal precipice is growing nigh. Squib had a bit of a tough weekend, so I allowed him to express his creative self with watercolors--his new favorite medium--and there were several unsupervised hours due to a Christmas production I was in. I say unsupervised loosely. Buddy was there. However, we have long since proven that he is of the school that children should be turned loose with the world as their canvas. And his canvas was my office and the front room of the house. Water. Watercolors. Paper. Some Styrofoam pieces made it in there. In short, disaster.
I'd burn it down and start over, but we're so close to having a tub...
Scat
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