So hypothetically, you have Richardo, the very nice granite installer, and his crew in your kitchen. Now let’s say it starts to smell like when they used to soak your Gel nails off to start from scratch when you were going through your high maintenance beauty phase, times 1000. (That phase was just me? I call B.S. on that.)
Just FYI, the way to handle that with a sweet, English-is-not-my-first-language granite guy is NOT to cry out from where you are working on the sofa: “Mylanta, Richardo, what up with that STANK!? Heavenly days, McGee- crack a window, yo!”
Blankest. Stare. Ever.
Sorry Richardo, the sealant made me talk normal crazy.
Just Sayin’.
Reluctantly Suburban 