Enter the Boss

Tuesday, in the middle of the children's naptime of course, Chris Parker came to the door wanting me to show him the damage. I walked him through the house pointing out all the damage (waling up all the kids) and all he could say was, "No problem, no big deal, no big deal, no problem."

I wanted to scream, "IT IS A BIG DEAL! MY BEDROOM IS DESTROYED! MY HOUSE IS A WATERY MESS AND NOW I HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT MOLD." Never once did he apologize.

OK, so he comes back Wednesday with a guy whose going to do the work on my room. I showed him the way back and asked his name. I told him that I don't usually drag a man back to my room without first knowing his name--or at least his email address.

Dude went outside to wait in his car for Chris to return with the piece of sheet rock and a couple of gallons of paint.

Before they got started on my room it was necessary to move some furniture and trees out of the way. I was in the living room feeding a baby when Mr. Parker called out to me. "We need you to come move some things in here for us." I thought he meant my rechargeable vibrator that was plugged into the wall and sitting on my nightstand but it was the jewelry he was concerned with.

He gave me this story about some woman accusing his guys of taking a bunch of video games from a past work site. He had to pay her for the loss since he couldn't prove they didn't. He doesn't watch much People's Court I take it. Any way, I turned to him and assured him that I was going to frisk them before they left.

They were here until 7:30pm replacing the ceiling and blowing the cottage cheese up on it. Before they left they asked if they could leave all their stuff where it was (the furniture displaced and trash all over my bedroom) until tomorrow when they'd be back to finish. I agreed believing that they truly would be back the next day to finish.

I must have scared them off. They did not show up Thursday or Friday.

Friday morning as I was getting dress for work I walked into my bedroom from the adjoining room looking down at the carpet. I stopped, backed up, and looked again. The freak had only covered part of the carpet and there was a line where he sprayed the ceiling crap on the carpet (the white celing cottage cheese texture stuff had my tan paint color mixed with it so the ceiling would be easier to paint).

See the lines?

There's a trail of painted footprints out my bedroom door, across my deck, and down the steps.