MORE CATCH UP

One day towards the end of March the drywallers showed up with bulging biceps and California tans.  They looked like pin-up protégés for the annual Firemen’s Calendar.  I think we got Mr. January, Mr. July, and Mr. October.  They hauled the giant sheets of drywall as if they were cardboard.  In any case, Mrs F suddenly decided she needed to spend more time on the job site supervising.  For a week the house sounded like World War III:  hammers pounding, power drills roaring, white powder raining everywhere.  By Friday afternoon the interior looked as if it were coated with powdered sugar.  Or cocaine.  Sweet dreams.