The other day I told my 10-year-old that on Wednesday the guys were coming to prep for the demo.
“What’s demo?” he asked.
“It’s short for demolition. They’re going to come in and rip everything out of the pink bathroom. Break the tub apart with a sledgehammer so they can cart it out in pieces. Tear all the tile off the wall. Smash everything to Smithereens. After they’re done, there won’t be anything left in here at all.”
“Mom! Mom! Mom! That’s what I want to do!”
When I told that to Mike The Contractor, he suggested I keep the kid home from school that day so he could help. “Would I get a discount?” I asked.
What they’re doing today, though, is pre-destruction. They’re just taking down doors and salvaging some molding. Capping pipes and putting plastic everywhere.
I’m really happy that my cleaning woman was here yesterday. The house is spotless, as it always is for the (approximately) 24 hours following her bi-monthly visit. I’m hoping that when the contractor walks into a spotless house, he’s going to form the opinion that we are a clean and tidy household, and he will work hard to keep the dust and disaster to a minimum.
If he’d come here on Monday, before the cleaning lady came, he may not have even bothered putting plastic around at all.
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