Dad’s eyes twinkled as he said, “Oh, Pippi, you’re not gonna believe what just happened. It’s a doozy!” Dad leaned in, still chuckling. “Remember that bathroom remodel I was working on? Well, let me tell you about the Carlyles, or as I like to call ’em, the Pinchpennies.”
I settled in, knowing this was gonna be good. Dad’s stories always were.“These folks, they wanted the works. New tiles, fancy fixtures, you name it. They picked out every little detail themselves… even down to where they wanted the toilet paper holder.” “Sounds like a dream job,” I said. Dad snorted. “Oh, it started that way alright. But then…” His face darkened, and I knew we were getting to the good part. “What happened, Dad?” I asked.“Well, Pippi, on the last day, just as I’m finishing up the grouting, they’re sitting on this couch, ready to pull a real fast one on me.” Dad’s voice took on a mocking tone as he imitated Mrs. Carlyle. “‘Oh, Pete, this isn’t what we wanted at all! These tiles are all wrong!’” I gasped. “But didn’t they pick everything out themselves?”
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