So we have this painter, Igor, who the Mr. thinks is great. I believe that Igor grew up under the Communist system and feels that whether he works or not, he still gets paid for showing up and standing around. Igor makes me crazy. He gets to the house at 9:30 or 10, walks around for a while, leaves, comes back and paints or primes and leaves at about 3. Very little gets done.
Today, brilliant Igor decided to stain the door to the powder room. He removed the door handle to do so. My autistic stepson, David, who will happily carry on a phone conversation no matter where he is and what he's doing, wandered into the powder room and shut the door.
It's unclear how long David was stuck in there. The Mr. heard him banging on the door after coming home from a business dinner. David wasn't upset; he was still on the phone. Picture this: David on the phone, the Mr. -- who is normally great with tools, fumbling with a screwdriver to undo the door (a few cocktails at dinner, dear?) and the other boys crowded around the door laughing. Yours truly finally got the door open.
At long last, a moment of levity, making it infinitely easier to choose happy.
Had a great laugh!
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