Not a Contractor

I came to the conclusion that I was not put on this earth to be a contractor when I drove my first nail into a 2x4 in my unfinished basement. Perhaps it was before that, as we were making blue chalk lines on the concrete and wondering if we should do the work ourselves or hire it done.

Two rooms? How hard could it be?

For the last month we have lived in a never-ending fog of white sheet-rock dust seeping into clothing, carpets, food and hair. I have personally met every employee at the local Home Depot and am now treated as a relative each time I step through the door; waves across the store and smiles at seeing my familiar face ... oh, and their expectant use of my seemingly endless credit card.

I even made it a point to have reunions right there in the paint department, discussing my writing projects while my primer was tinted to match my paint.

I wish I could say I'll miss my new friends at the Home Depot, but now that the basement is finished and most of the dust is settled, I'm in no hurry to return. I think I'll just sit back and relax in front of this screen and type until I get the feeling back in my first two fingers. Maybe I'll even get that other novel edited so I can send it to my editor ... it's about time!