It's kind of odd really. I'm not usually vulnerable to Monday mistakes - I
make 'em anyday of the week.
Todays special move was dropping a 20 oz. ripping hammer through a hole in
the clients laundry room floor (that, perversely, I was trying to repair at
that very moment). Said hammer then went right through that section of
space that is normally occupied by a dining room ceiling. I pretty much
wish that the ceiling was still there.
Now I didn't notice any of this. I was busy prying or pulling or drooling.
When said Estwing was found missing (odd phrase), I merely had to look
through the hole to find it laying on the dining room table. Yes, the one
from the "Islands"... right - the heirloom grade one with^H^H^H^H that had
the flawless hand rubbed finish. It now sports two proper dents. The one
from the head end is a full mm or two deep, the curved claw indentation
maybe one mm. No splintering:)
Now I've been working on this families home for a couple years, and have
maybe eight years left to finish up. I've managed to overturn, layer with
dust or generally upheave many of their belongings. This table was one of
those "comfort pieces" that reassured them that happy days were indeed
ahead. You know, something that was bought for that special place in the
remodeled space that would reflect their desires so closely. The owners
obviously took it OK - after all I am typing this (whew!).
So I call the local furniture house and get a name and number for the repair
guy they use - Bob _iley.
I call Bob and get a "that number has been changed, the new number is...".
I call that and get another "that number has been changed, the new number
is...".
Third time's a winner! I get a machine (s'ok, the good guys are busy!).
Must still be Monday, because now I'm worrying about how much this is gonna
cost 'cause the msg starts out with "You have reached the number of Lord
Roberts Furniture Repair...". Cross my heart.
Laird Robert calls my cell a couple of hours later - calls himself Bob and
sounds like... well one of us. I won't hold that against him. 9:00 am
tomorrow 'till my fingers uncross.
--Eric