By the by, folks. As we speak - there is a dood named Martin painting our upstairs! Doesn't matter that he's been here for 2 hours already, Reggie barks at him every time he makes a noise, so that's enjoyable.
I keep threatening Reggie with the squirtgun, though I haven't actually nailed him. I just show it to him and Reggie flattens his ears to his head and stares at me with big round eyes. He knows what the squirt guns means. And yet, he can't help himself when he hears a noise. He is in a conundrum: protecting me from big scary roller-wielding man upstairs or risking getting drenched with "the gun". He must think I'm some kinda effed up.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WOMAN! DO YOU NOT KNOW THERE IS A STRANGER IN OUR HOME??!
Anyhoo - Martin seems way better than the Toilet Whisperer, from our old apartment. But I guess Toilet Whisperers and Paint Guys are different sorts. Martin doesn't need painter's tape. That means he's a pro. Unless he's saving it to fasten my hands at the back of a chair while he rips us off. Ah, these things happen.
I'm thrilled cuz what would have caused us a ton of aggravation is going to be done oh so sooooooooooooooooon!
EEEE! So, thanks for all your suggestions - BIG TIME. Turns out Martin is "a guy" that a friend of ours uses (everyone's got "a guy", don't they? I guess now, we have a guy too). Appreciate you coming to the rescue (once again).
Uh oh, Martin's on his cellphone. Time to man the squirt gun.