I know, I know, I hear your collective groan of disappointment, but the Guv-nah called and I got a pardon.
Actually, duty called in the form of helping The Hubster with a weekend-long project for the family (our family) business.
So this morning I asked SIL#2 - who, quite possibly, is meaner than I am and I love her for it - what I missed at the event. She reported that the event was uneventful, which I find incredibly difficult to believe, but I have to take her eye-witness word for it.
Sorry. Talk about a story line going nowhere.
I call tell you that the redneck carpenters did rub one last grain of salt into the gaping wound that is my kitchen, to-wit:
They left on Friday without installing my new been-in-the-garage-for-two-months-waiting-to-see-action dishwasher. Claimed they couldn't do anything until we get new counters, which is pure BS. The Hubster, as he was paying them, asked WTF? They told him they didn't have a diswasher to install. He told them it was covered in dust and cob webs in the gee-rage.
Oh. Well, okie dokie then. Ricky here - who when he shows up on a Monday is so hung over he can't hold up his head let alone a 2x4 - will come back tomorrow and knock that clean out. "Tomorrow" which is Saturday, which proceeds a Friday night after coming into contact with a paycheck. Do you believe him? I did.
"Okay! Great!" said I. "I'll stay away from the house all morning and give him the run of the place."
Got home at noon. No dishwasher. I was so disappointed. Seriously. I've been waiting for this damn appliance for so long. I'm like a kid in July just wait,wait, waiting for Christmas ... somewhere ... in the dim, distant future.
I have half a mind to set mouse traps under the cabinets so that if they do ever show their drunken, toothless faces again, THEY WILL FEEL MY PAIN.
Aaaand breathe out. Okay. All better now.