It's extremely rare, but sometimes I am the shit-head.
Each night, I come home to find the apartment in a different state. One night, we have two bathrooms, the next, we have to use the toilet in one and the shower in the other. One night, you have a kitchen on the lower level, the next, you have to cook dinner in the toaster oven. One night you might have a fully-functioning murphy bed, and the next, you're wrestling the mattress onto the living room floor.
The big change I had been waiting for was the cutting of the "hole," which would make the past 10 months of suffering finally worth it.
I knew from my conversation with Larry that they had "rough-cut" the hole and convered it with plywood. They would come back the next day to remove the supporting beams.
I also knew that the bathroom floor had been tiled (correctly, this time) and I was anxious to see that as well. I came home and bounded through the door like a big stupid dog (no offense to dog lovers). "Duh, lemmie see da bathroom!" I said to Larry.
I heard a big, scary crack, and Larry yelled at me for almost falling to my death. He's so dramatic.
Oh, and did I tell you that we have cameras in the apartment now? Click to enlarge.