Like when you realize that no matter how much you have to do at work, no matter how annoyed your boss is, when something happens to your house there is no argument: you don't have lives to save. You are the one staying home with the repairman.
This has its perks. Like... hanging out at home with the dog.
It also has its downfalls. Like, staring at an unfinished bedroom that would look a million times better if a) there was a picture ledge on the wall*, and b) there was no underwear on the floor.
But mainly it has its perks. My favorite: getting the real story from the repairmen.
Recently, while sitting at home entertaining the people who were installing our radon mitigation system, I got the inside scoop on why our basement has so much radon. I made sure to share with Y.
Apparently, insinuating that Y caused a poisonous gas to emanate from our floors is the way to his heart. Just a few days later, our bedroom looked like this:
some other bedroom shots:
*I screw up every time I try to put something in our walls. Otherwise, I would have hung the shelf myself.