Justified or not, I’ve been pouting all week about what’s getting done at the house—or rather, what’s not. So after a few terse phone calls back and forth this morning, I finally got a fire lit under Joe’s ass about going through the bathroom tile.
Because we brilliantly chose tile that doesn’t come with any trim pieces, we need to take it to a marble place to get the edges finished. I’ve been in a frenzy trying to find someone to do this for a reasonable fee, and finally met with success earlier today. And the place is open on Saturday morning.
But that means we need to go through all 15 boxes before then and pull out anything that’s damaged and has to be returned. Going through 120 pieces of tile is bad enough, but with someone as detail-oriented as Joe, it’s torture. He laid every piece out, wiped it down with a sponge, examined it, front and back, then repacked it carefully.
The two drinks I had with dinner helped me get through four hours of this (yes, I really did spend my entire Friday night this way), but only slightly. We ended up with 32 tiles to return—that’s nearly a quarter of them. Most aren’t broken clean in half, they just have surface flaws or cracks, but at $13 a piece, I’m all for being picky. But I’m also, for the first time, kind of glad our bathroom is so small.