A few months ago the landlord sent a handyman to fix a warp in the floor and spray paint a peeling tub. This handyman spoke broken English which made it hard for me to understand him and him me. He took out a hammer from his bag on his hip and a pocket knife. He cut a small piece of the rug over the bump in the floor and proceeded to pound the lump down. There was another part which needed help too. The landlord called and asked if he fixed both parts of the floor. I tried to explain to him the best I could and all of a sudden he said something like the floor was good and he walked on it and then proceeded to do a cha-cha-cha dance on the lump part which needed to be fixed. He reminded me of the people who get kicked off that dancing show.
I shook my head and almost laughed out loud. So, today I only needed to hear music and bumping against the side of the house to know who it was. I needed coffee for this day. Of course coffee only made me hotter but I didn't care. As I sipped and sweated I heard scratching at the door. It sounded like a puppy scratching to come inside. But since I didn't have a puppy much to the unhappiness of my son, I knew it was the handyman. I looked out of the living room window and sure enough I was right. He was up on a ladder on the porch scrapping paint off the door and getting ready to slap another coat of white paint on it. I think the landlord thinks he's a jack of all trades. I don't know if he's mastered any any was in the mood to ask him but I held it back. But from the looks of the paint he slapped on the door he's clearly not a master of painting.
I poured another cup of coffee and sat in my chair. It was going to be some kind of hot day. Not the weather just me.
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