Are We Done Yet?

New walls?  Check.

New bathroom?  Check.

New floors?  Almost check.

We're heading down the home stretch in this rebuild after the April Fool's Day disaster.  The wood floors are just about installed, and all that will be left is the carpet and a few baseboards.

The house is looking good, from what I can see underneath the 3 months of asbestos, wood, and drywall dust that has accumulated.  We're contemplating paying someone to come in and do a full top to bottom dusting and vacuuming, but the cheapskate in me is bound to put the kibosh on that one any minute now.  

As close as we are to finishing this ordeal, it really isn't helping me cope with the irritations of having a steady stream of laborers flowing through the house.  For the most part, everyone has been very nice, respectful, and thoughtful.  It really hasn't been until this last crew that I personally had complaints about the situation.  I mean, sure, they didn't take the nails down when they painted over the entire wall, and sure they showed up unannounced on the morning we weren't planning...but that stuff is minor.

At least until this last crew showed up on the scene.

This latest group of guys has zero personality, and in my book, if you're making my life difficult, a good personality goes a long way.  So when they left their Dominos pizza box and empty 2 liter on my lawn, along with a half eaten slice tossed on the driveway, I took names.

And when they missed the toilet and left a little welcome puddle on my brand new remodeled bathroom, I saw red (and yellow).

And when they drove away without telling me they were done for the day, I thought, "thanks for the heads up, I guess I'll just assume the floors are ok to walk on now." By the time I had booked it downstairs to see if I could catch them, they were already pulling out of the driveway.  I felt foolish chasing them down the street, so I just stood there and watched them drive away.

About the same time, one of the workers noticed me standing there.

Fast forward to this morning.  The crew arrived as normal, but this time I made no effort to engage them.  After the peed-on floor, pizza on the driveway, and ninja-like disappearance, I was done trying to maintain friendly relations.  I said hi, let them in, and went upstairs to get started with my work day.

A short while later, I heard one of the guy's phone ring and then heard him say, "yes, we're here already."  A very polite voice then trailed it's way up the stairs, "Um, excuse me, Manuel wants to speak with you."

Well, what can this be about?  I take the phone and am immediately greeted with, "I have to tell you, my guys got some water out of your fridge yesterday and drank your bottles.  I'm so sorry, I'll replace it today."  Followed by lots more apologizing.

What???  They actually went into my fridge looking for something to drink?

That was the last thing I was expecting, and I was caught off guard, so I brushed it off and told him not to worry about replacing the water.  If I had had my wits about me (I'm trying to bring that phrase back), I would've played up the invasion of privacy bit.  Or at least leaned on the pilfering angle.  But as my wits were nowhere to be found, I settled for telling him that if they needed to go into our stuff, they needed to let us know first.

Now tell me, is it normal crew behavior to just go into someone's fridge and help themselves to whatever looks good?  I mean, to be fair, it was a warm day, but 3 months into this, every crew until now has brought their own fluids and foods.  And for most of the day, the kitchen was sealed up by THEM so that they could work in there.

And with that final offense, I officially became sick of this repair project.  From here on out, I'm counting the minutes until my house is finished.

On a more interesting note, we discovered this little gem beneath our floors.

I'm torn between delight and disgust.

And we also finally understood why our baseboards were so thick along this wall.

Every home has its secrets.