|"Les Raboteurs de Parquet," Gustave Caillebot, 1875, Musee d'Orsay|
We arrived home yesterday evening to discover than in our absence, our housekeeping couple committed what we determined was a "fire-able" offense.
Actually, to be fair, it was probably just Eigh, not Oeuf who was responsible for the act. When we left town, Eigh begged us not to suspend their services during our vacation, citing financial difficulties. So we left with a list of minor tasks, some of which were busy work, like watering potted plants.
I won't go into the gory details, but after a 15 hour international journey, we walked into an aftermath of disorder, dirt, and damage, created by Eigh's rash decision to perform an unrequested major home "repair", for which he lacked both the knowledge and craftsmanship.
This morning we called to inform him their services were no longer required. Insurance claim to follow.
He responded to the call with the usually hedging and argument and passive-aggressive guilt tripping we've come to expect from him, and since he needed to come by and pick up some tools he'd been storing here, we prepared ourselves for a drama-filled personal encounter. So we agreed to an appointed time, put put the tools on the porch, and waited to hear the doorbell
The time came and went, and we looked outside - the tools were gone and the house key was properly returned.
"Looks like he knows how to do this. He's probably done it before," commented [The Man I Love.]