Mr. Muhammad has a team of "guys" he uses for various jobs around our house. He picks them up out of nowhere, and they do their thing. They come one day, and then you might not see them for a week, and then they're here for a few in a row.
There's Tile Guy. Demo Guy. Plumbing Guy. Drywall Guy. Electrical Guy. I took the time to learn their names, but I'm tired today, due to their blasting about for the past week, and their real monikers escape me. So, they are each xx guy, for the purposes of this post.
Today, Drywall Guy stealthily moved about my house.
He doesn't speak. He just puts up boards, he patches. Big huge chunks of wall and ceiling missing due to our careless plumber's antics, the hanging aftermath of the removal of our kitchen soffit, the rot gut inards of our laundry room wall. Drywall guy. He heals it all.
Our house, officially today, feels like a home.
The only thing irritating about Drywall Guy is that every day I decide to clean--which ain't that often, considering I live in a construction zone--is the day that Mr. Muhammad's called him up. He may be stealthy, but he leaves his ashy mark everywhere. Today, all over my toes, too. I'm a chalky mess.
But otherwise, thank you, Drywall Guy.
No comments:
Post a Comment