SABADO

I don't quite know how to explain this, but after 5 days of living with 5 or 6 or 7 workmen, we really look forward to the quiet weekends.  Why is it that watching men work, staying out of their way by hiding out in the bedroom, paying for each delivery of cement, sand, gravel, debating how we want things done, just tires us out.  Around 4 pm on Friday, I begin to fantasize about saying "hasta lunes, buen fin de semana, etc" to the workmen.  At around 5:30 I can actually say it.

Friday night we went to the symphony and then out to eat.  Came home and I read the book I can hardly put down about the CIA's murderous practices.  I was up until 12:30 a.m. or so.  Saturday morning I got up before el sr J and puttered around in the garden in my jammies.  Around 8:30 I heard a knock on the door.  Now, sometimes I answer these knocks, sometimes I don't.  Who knows why I answered this one.  It was the unexpected arrival of the carpenter, his wife and their grandson, Manuel.  In they came for a day's work, greeted by my bare-chested, bleary-eyed husband, who, it turns out, is not at all satisfied with the work.

We are, however, satisfied with the aluminum roof guy's work.  He will be back on Monday to replace the 5 skylights in the house.

The cantera tile patio is almost done:

We recycled a door from inside to the garden storage area:

Tomorrow, Monday, el sr J will inform Trini, the patrón, about the bad carpentry work.  How many men will we see tomorrow?  Trini and the 4 albañiles, Sergio, the plumber, the carpenter and who knows who else will come with him, the skylight/roof guy, and we never know when the architect will show up.  But, looking on the bright side, once all these guys finish in the kitchen and dining room and the herreros deliver the doors and window next week, we may be able to move into the kitchen.  Let's hope we live so long.