For two weeks, after we took possession of our new house but before we moved furniture in, Bryan and I spent every evening after work painting. I’ve told you before, and you’ve seen it for yourself – the walls in this house were painted every color under the living sun. We kept painting clothes and shoes on a shelf in the hallway, and each evening, we’d leave our offices, drive to the new house, change into our painting clothes and get to work.
At the same time, we were having our home’s plumbing redone. (Do I have to remind you about that whole toilet-flushing-into-the-bathtub situation?) For about a week, a team of plumbers was at our house, pulling apart old pipes and installing new ones. Now, I don’t claim to have an extensive knowledge about plumbing, but I do feel comfortable saying that job was very, very gross.
One evening, Bryan and I rolled up to the house to find that the plumbers were still working away. No matter, we thought. We’ll just stay out of their way and tackle the paint in another room. We walked inside to the shelf to retrieve our painting clothes. I grabbed my pants and my shoes and – wait. What? Where did my shirt go?
“Do you see my shirt?” I whispered to Bryan.
“No,” he said. “Why?”
“It’s missing,” I said. “Where did it go?” I looked all around. I hadn’t worn it home the previous night, and I didn’t put it anywhere else. “Maybe -”
And just then, just as I started to guess, I saw it. Coming right toward me.
On a plumber. What the?
One of the plumbers was wearing my shirt! Not on his torso, but tied over his face, covering his nose and mouth. I repeat: He had taken my shirt and fastened it into a face mask which he wore presumably all day.
Again: What the?
He flushed a little when we made eye contact. (Haha, the plumber flushed. Get it?) He knew that I knew that he was wearing my shirt. But, as Bryan was quick to remind me, he must have been in a desperate way if he was more willing to wear a stranger’s shirt on his face than he was to go without it. So, I didn’t say anything, and I found a different top to wear instead.
I mean, I can’t blame him for shielding his senses from what was surely a torturous day-after-day of unclogging a stranger’s waste from some pipes. But still, I couldn’t help but giggle. Weird things like this are always happening to me.
Jillian Wyatt 