All Quiet on the Home Front

Peace restored.

The electrician who came to install our bathroom exhaust fan yesterday is a chatterbox, and by chatterbox, I mean fundamentally incapable of shutting up. He told me that I shouldn’t buy real estate right now because the market is jumpy, that his kids pay for their own video games since he gives them twenty bucks a month allowance which seems fair, that his mother owns a second home in Maine but never goes there because it’s a pain in the butt to get to, that he keeps his boat in the driveway under a tarp but he’d like to find a house with a big garage, only newsflash! he’s not buying real estate now, because the market is jumpy.

In addition to his nonstop blather he was nosy. He looked over my shoulder while I was on the computer and asked what I was working on. He asked me if the doctor’s appointment I told him I had to get to was just a check-up.

Today, I’m happy to report my annoyance has faded, its source elsewhere, driving someone else out of their fucking mind. You must know rain to appreciate the sunshine, right? My reward is silence, the sweetest sound of all, made even sweeter by the faint distant whirring of the bathroom exhaust fan.