And Now I Feel Like a Jerk

Frustrated with the utter lack of progress on the last few piddly items of the remodel, I sent the contractor a tacky text:  Anyone?  Bueller? Bueller?

He texted back that he was at the hospital with his uncle, but would be by in the afternoon.

Around three o'clock, I lost patience and texted him again:  Please come finish my house.

He texted back almost immediately:  My uncle died.  We were very close.

I? Am such a jerk.

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