I fired my contractor. Or maybe he fired me. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell with these breakups. I paid him roughly half of the money, and he did roughly half of the contracted work. Then, he got abducted by aliens. Or run over by a bus. Whatever it was, I’ve officially given up on him. We first met with the guy last summer about tearing out our weird hallway shower and replacing it with a custom-built pantry. We also wanted him to do a minor update to our downstairs bathroom (not that anything we’ve attempted in this house has ever turned out to be “minor”) and replace the wallpaper in our massive front room. We signed the contract last fall for what was supposed to be a two-week project. Eight months later, he finally made it to the halfway point, then disappeared. Now, we’ve officially ghosted each other, and I’m finishing the project myself. Another successful human interaction by me.
The last time I saw the contractor was before the annual triple birthday party for our three oldest …
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