This week we're having a new shed built in our backyard which means that soon we'll be able to actually move around in the other 50% of our laundry room that is currently clogged with stuff. The new shed is significantly larger than the old one and isn't as smelly or scary. So it's a good thing, right?
Eh, not so much.
The guy who's been building the shed has been driving me batty. The first day or so I was okay with his persistent chattiness. I figured that he works alone and needs to bend someone's ear for a bit. Then it got annoying. Seemed like any chance he got, he wanted to run his mouth to me and his subjects of conversation are what I now consider The Working Man's Blue: Poor Health and Money Troubles. All he's missing is a woman that ran away and a dead dog, and he's got a country song for a life.
For example, he saw me on the way out to the grocery store yesterday morning and turned that into an opportunity to flap his yap for ten minutes about how Chippenham Hospital done him wrong. Sigh.
Plus, he has no clue how to read the normal social cues that a conversation needs to come to a close which in my case are a fussy, squirmy baby or glancing at my watch. Luckily I've had a few easy ways out like a stinky diaper to change or pouring rain.
Yesterday, Alastair and I spent most of the day out of the house either at the store or visiting with Sadie, one of Alastair's future girlfriends.
He's been pretty antisocial this morning; I figure he wants to finish the job up for the day. He's getting the roof on and then all that will be left is the doors and shelves.
Seeing as I tend to be very anti-social, especially with strangers, this week has been very exhausting and trying. The last thing I want to do is piss off the man building our shed. Then we'd get a crooked shed.