This morning, I happily ripped my sign off the dishwasher:
Porque no elec
No necessito! !lavabo con mano!
We have a working dishwasher!
Husband on remodeling while living in the house:
“It’s like having children. If you knew what you were getting into, you probably wouldn’t have them.”
Daughter trapped for about 45 minutes in the Wal-mart dressing cubicle yesterday. The door jammed and wouldn’t unlock. Four employees converged. God knows their names—they bent the steel frame of the cubicle to open the door.
“It’s too muddy to get inside the house,” reasoned the tile subcontractor, so no tile work on the master bath today.
“Bullnose, bullnose, where’s the bullnose?” Tile subcontractor insisted on using bullnose for the bath project. I bought a few sample pieces.
“It’s too fragile.”
We worked out a design without bullnose.
Fireplace insert installed unprofessionally, to use a kind word.
“I installed this myself,” the owner said with pride when called back for a re-do; but during the install, he hadn’t bothered to move my daughter’s bicycle or other items placed close to the fireplace. Later, we discovered the bike tire resting against the glass casing of our grandfather clock. Why is the clock still sitting so close to work areas?
Another subcontractor painted the inside walls as we lived in cramped squares inside each room. Squares of peace, of course.