We were supposed to be special this week. Instead, E ended up in tears in an office with a guy named Björn.
They are changing the windows in our whole building this winter. Our floor was due up just when baby #2. But they said they could move us up, to this week. We could be first in line.
So on Tuesday we moved the furniture, laid the paper on the floor, all that. They did no work. Wednesday. No work. Thursday, lots of very dusty work, and we had to spend the evening essentially in a construction zone, with NK rolling a Pilates ball through the dust all night.
But the windows were in, if nothing else. And they would finish Friday, they promised.
They did not finish Friday. And when E showed up, the workman was rude to her (and apparently stopped working immediately).
“You can’t force me to do overtime,” he snapped unprovoked.
So while I picked up NK after her longest daycare day ever, E found the window boss in his office in our neighborhood. She is just now 39 weeks pregnant, with all the physical and emotional burden of that, and this week was misery for her.
Plus, there is the fear. We can’t go into labor now. We can’t bring a baby home to this dust, this mess.
And as afternoon turned to evening, E cried in Björn’s office, in pain and having contractions, and he promised that they would finish fast on Monday and we could take up the paper on the floor and clean. And they will work fast and clean up and he is so so sorry.
But NK took up the paper with me, and E and NK mopped, and the apartment is liveable, if cold.
Though I have low expectations for Monday. Björn, don’t let me down …