Mommy, you mean I might not have to sit on these peeling black paint, mold-growing plywood counters anymore?
So, we had a weird week of back-and-forth with the countertop company that was oddly reminicent of the Sammy Debacle.
"Ok, we are shipping it today." Then nothing.
"Ok, sending you the tracking number." Nada.
"Sorry sending it today." Nil.
We started to freak out a little.
We started to feel like idiots... again.
So when Marc woke me up this morning at 6:15am to show me this, I wasn't mad at all:
Man. It just might happen.