Okay, I'm ignoring all depressing news stories before writing today...

...unlike prior to the last post.

The (hopefully) final leg of our home remodel is underway. The master bath will finally have a solid sub-floor, amongst other more esoteric features I owe my incredibly patient wife. This optimistic expectation of closure (including walls, literally) assumes we are not fated to live the homeowner's equivalent of Sisyphus' curse: 'what do you mean the kitchen countertops are looking dated?!'.

The demolition is finished and the electricians were in yesterday. When you have contractors rutting around in the more private areas of your living quarters, you have to expect some weirdness. It came early. One of the guys was up in the attic above the bathroom. He noticed previous electrical work up there - and was mildly dissing the workmanship. I didn't admit to who did the wiring...ahem. But then he noticed something odd, in an out of the way corner. "Oh damn, who was this guy? He took a shit up here!"

Ah, the joys of living with cocker spaniels... who go to such great lengths to hide their poop.

(postscript: the attic is accessible via a stairway. sometimes we forget to shut the door)
(post-postscript: I may do sloppy wire routing, but I do not shit in the attic)