Bring It On Darla

Thanks to my old pal Darla, another section of the bathtub has flaked off.  Once again, the call was made and we waited 2 months for an appointment.

At 9:30 a.m. sharp I was ready for my appointment in the 10 a.m. to 1 p.m repair time bracket.  With the preparation skills of an expert, I removed the screen and window from above the tub and masked the window frame and stationary window.  From past experience I know that the deadly white paint mist would make its way to the screen, never to be removed.  My mind raced as I frantically applied a coat of furniture wax on all bathroom surfaces.  This was utter genious on my part to make the inevitable paint overspray and drips easier to remove.  I even gave a generous application to the faucets and shower head.  All other rooms were closed off, pictures taken off the walls, rugs removed, fans turned off, and the worrying and waiting began.  

I am no dummy.  This time I was ready and would prevent any possible skrew-up.  Bring it on, Darla. 

At 1:30 p.m. there was still no sign of my repair crew.  After anxiously waiting and calling for 4 hours and 45 minutes, the white-nostril-haired (from above said mist) guy in painter's coveralls arrived.  I whisked him off to the bathroom and showed him the flakeage.

Him:  "Eh, yup, yup, looks like it's flaking."  "Eh-yup, yup, looks like she sprayed over the caulking."

Me:  "Yup."

Him:  "Shouldn't take too long."

An hour later, he announced that it was all done and we shouldn't use the tub for 24 hours.  My first thought was that maybe we should never use it, perhaps just call it art and longingly remember back to the days when our worries were not about our tub, but about wars, sick kids, or global warming.

I'm beginning to feel that this lifetime warranty may be a disguise just to see who wears down first.  Ha!  They must not know who they are tanglin' with.