I have a friend who has the right idea; when the people in charge of renovating her basement kept fucking around and not getting it done, she became a contractor herself. She's licensed and everything. She's onto something, folks.

For the better part of forever, I've had to deal with electricians, plumbers, painters and drywallers. I've dealt with every sort of repairman you can think of, almost all due to HDH's fish tank fuck-up's (so sorry, HDH, but it's true).

It's getting really, really, really old.

And when it's not been related to the fish tank, it's been some fun faux painting I've had in mind for the dining room. The woman was recommended by a neighbor. She busted in the bathroom while I was showering because the sound of running water 'scared her'. She thought there was an intruder in the house. Honestly.

Now, we (meaning: me) have been dealing with the latest drywall issue. There was a minor leak with the fish tank, and it ruined the ceiling in our basement (right under the tank). I called and called drywall companies; no one would call me back. When HDH started calling, of course, we started getting calls.

We had a few bids once things were all said and done. All agreed to paint, which was big for me. I had to supply the paint and primer, but that wasn't too big of a deal for me. Probably cheaper for us in the long rung. Whatever.

Drywall guy and his team show up last Thursday. They work pretty hard Thurs-Sat. They had been showing up at 8:15 almost every morning, taking small breaks, and staying until 6:00.

I swear I heard the "Hallelujah!" chorus.

I told the Head Guy that he should tell me how much paint to get, and how much/what kind of primer to pick up, as well. I wanted to get it done last Friday so I could spend this week getting ready for our big party we're hosting here at the casa. I run my errands, feeling all so proud of myself that I'm knocking this shit OUT. I buy the paint, I get the primer, and I'm home in time for lunch.

And then today ...

I'm waiting for them to show up.I'm also waiting for the Jackass Catering Company from last night to show up and pick up their leftover crap. (I have no idea when that tool finally arrived, but I dumped all of that shit on the front prorch)

8:30 passes. 9:30 passes. 10:30 passes. I need to drop the Bug off at daycare and get my errands/appt's done, so I leave a message for the Head Guy. Somewhere around Noon he calls back with this message:

"Yah, we'll be there, but we can't show up until you have the paint we need and the primer. But I don't want that first kind of primer I told you about. I want a special kind called HDWDOESNTGIVEARATSASSKIND. It has to be this kind because of the water damage, not the other kind."

First problem:
1. See, I already BOUGHT the paint, so if they've been fucking around all morning because they didn't think I had it, when the crew KNEW I had it already, then they can suck shit.
2. You KNEW there was water damage, YaAss, so why not ask me to get that 'special kind' then??

But, because I am determined to have this project completed and these guys out of my house before the party (as well as the second coming of CHRIST for all I know), I dutifully truck over to a paint store for this 'special primer'.

They don't have it, of course.

Go to a second store. They have the primer type he wants, but not the name brand. MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO ME. I have the following exchange with the Paint Store Guy:

Him: What are you looking for?
Me: Fuck if I know. I'm supposed to buy "name brand" primer.
Him: We don't have that, but we have something that's the same, but better than that kind.
Me: Fine. Whatever.
Him: Anything else?
Me: Yes. A drywall guy who buys his own shit would be nice.

I head home, drop it off, and get a phone call from the Head Guy.

Him: Make sure it's water based, not oil based.
Me: Uh ... hmm. It doesn't say ANYWHERE on the can if it's one or the other?
Him: It HAS to.
Me: It DOESn't.
Him: Look again.
Me: Swear, I can read - and I don't see water or oil.

My patience is running thin about now.

One of his worker bee shows up, I make him look for water or oil based label (which he doesn't see either) and pronounces the primer 'just fine'. I am relieved. Finally, someone is here, and they can start finishing up this freaking project already.

About 30 minutes later, I'm sitting right here, in my cozy little computer chair, and the guy comes up the stairs.

Him: HDW?
Me: Yes?
Him: I have a question for you ... Head Guy wants to know: do you, by any chance, have a paint dropcloth?

And here, folks, is where my head (I believe) spun around in slow motion, I ripped his head off, and shat down his neck stump. Twice.

Me: No. I don't believe I'd have that.
Him (and I quote): You're right. You wouldn't have this. Why would you? We're the painters. I'll tell Head Guy to just buy one.

HOLY. CRAP.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!??!?!

They've already borrowed:
1. a ladder
2. a flashlight
3. a broom
4. a dustpan
5. a fan
6. and a partridge in a pear tree

Head Guy tells me they'll be done on Wednesday. They'll clean everything up ... if we could loan them our vacuum cleaner.