the last straw

I've been filling some of you in on our floor saga. To make an extremely long story short, we have had tile disaster since we tore up our kitchen and dining room floor in September. From contractors who didn't show at all, to one who disappeared in the middle of the job, to Justin and Matt learning how to cut tile and getting covered head to foot in slate mud, to the grout not coming off the tiles, to me being pregnant and incapable of helping, to Justin throwing out his back... who thought it could get worse. As I was coming home Friday at noon, Justin called to tell me not to park in the driveway so that there was room for the ambulance. Apparently Matt, our resident hazmat technician, got a nice whiff of the hydrochloric acid in the grout remover, passed out when he tried to stand up, and made a very impressive hole with his forehead in the kitchen wall. (Which he now thinks is "sweet.") Yes he is OK, but we all had a fun time in the ER on Friday afternoon. AND, to boot, the grout remover didn't even remotely work.

I REALLY think we could make it on to some HGTV show at this point. "DIY Disasters" or "Ghetto Grouting" or something like that. Oy vey!