Okay, forget what I said about tile stud. He is much cuter when he does not speak.
This morning it took me 30 minutes to get from the front door to the car. I was trying to go to work, but I did need to discuss my choice of grout with hot tile guy. But my quick “yeah woodsmoke is fine” was met with a 20 minute bitch session about my kitchen floor and the tile contractor. If I wore a watch I would have been glancing at it often enough to give him the message that, I HAD TO GO TO WORK (since obviously the bag over my shoulder and keys in my hand did not seem to phase him). By the time I made it to the car, my 90 year old neighbor was out on the porch calling out to me–“tell the plumber to come around the back to the kitchen door”. Evidently she is convinced that the guys working on my house are there to do stuff at her house as well. It does not matter that I have told her 7 times that that is not the plumber, that is the tile guy coming to work on my house. The mason had only one 30 second gripe, but pretty much kept his bitching to himself.
Sweet Jezuz, these guys are bitchier than a sewing circle. Tomorrow, I am going to make sure I leave the house by 7:45 to avoid all the drama and to be sure I get to work on time. Fabulous tile pix to come.