Smeagol had just killed his brother and was gazing at the beauty of his precious, when a large truck pulled up in front of my house, its cargo more precious than the One Ring. The last rays of the sun glinted off the shiny chrome in the back of the pick-up, and my Shower Door Installer guy came to greet me cheerily even though it was sunset. He had arrived two-and-a-half hours later than he said he would, and I was glad to see him. I had just started "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" in case you hadn't guessed.
Faramir's army was headed into sheer futility at the base of Minas Tirith when Shower Stall guy finished. He warned me as he stepped out of the front door: "Don't turn on the water for 24 hours! Let it set."
I can't take a shower yet, but I can stare at it. It gleams in the tiny bathroom. And thank God, I noted to whomever was listening, the door clears the toilet. Whew.
It's done! It's done! Oh, except for the PG&E thing which will restore power to the master bedroom. But neither Ernie nor I can control that. It's done.
Oh, did I tell you I already have the next project lined up? Different company this time -- Honey Do Remodeling -- who will forge a redwood fence for me around the front part of the property. And take the old, sagging, collapsing one (in the wrong color) away. And there's also some insulation they'll plant in my attic. There's not much up there.
It's an old house, you know. Always needs work. But it's getting newer all the time.