A year or so ago, our shower pan retired and flooded our bathroom and hallway. Insurance cut us a check and Brian said, "I can do this myself cheaper." I did not leave him.
I went for twelve weeks without a shower. We had a bath, but we did not have a shower. I had to clean my five feet, eight inch body in a tub that was made clearly made for a five feet, two inch body. I did not consult an attorney.
By mid-August, I delivered my ultimatum: I would have a completed--COMPLETED--bathroom and a functioning shower by Monday of the next week. I took a shower on Tuesday. I did not kick him in the crotch ... hard.
"Is it all done? For reals? We can actually use the bathroom as it was intended and not just as a reason for drinking an entire bottle of wine each night?" I asked as I stood naked in said bathroom, a towel in hand, saliva drooling from my mouth in anticipation of a real, live shower.
"All done," he lied.
Last night, Leonard, one of the new kitties, made it obviously clear that Brian did not finish the bathroom.
At first we just heard a distant meowing, as if Leonard were in an empty room, which we do not have in this house. Then we heard his meowing echo ... through our air vents. And suddenly, it's clear that Leonard was somehow in our air duct system. I raced through the house yelling into the vents, "Leeeeeonarrrrrrd! Here, kittykittykitty. Here, kittykittykitty." He would meow back, and I'd race to the next vent.
Eventually, after my call-and-dash, I found myself in my brand new bathroom ... where I found Leonard ... who had found ... an uncovered air vent ... in our apparently, unfinished bathroom.
I gave Brian until May 32 to finish the bathroom. For reals.