Houston, We've Got a Problem

I don't really understand.

I understand some things.

I understand that he has several projects at one time. He and his crew are spread out accomplishing various things at different times.

I understand that some things are subbed out and he is at the mercy of their availability.

I understand that my little job has become a money pit and he is now probably in the red and not terribly enthused about finishing it at his own expense.

I also understand that I have spent an astonishing amount of money by anyone's standards to update this kitchen, and it has been like chewing off my own hand from the start.

What I don't understand is how he walks into Charlotte's house with his ponytailed head held high instead of with his tail between his legs when she is acutely aware of what is happening (or not happening) at my house, and he is toiling away on a project at her house. 

Granted, her project is zippy and new and hasn't had its first full on disaster yet. 

I have had an electrical debacle, dry wall issues, ants, The Amateur Tile Show, damaged materials, played the Who's Going To Get The Faucet game, interior layout issues on par with those faced by NASA, and a healthy debate about whether or not the effing door gets painted. (Of course it gets painted. It is French Vanilla and the entire rest of the trim is Architectural White. The blind can see that that is Just All Wrong).

Charlotte and Jack had a water problem that ruined their beautiful family room, and immediately took the lemons, squeezed them into a glass, dropped in a few ice cubes and ladled in the Jack Daniels. They are not just fixing the family room, they are adding a wet bar and television and redesigning the whole space. (I predict a Super Bowl party...)

Chances are, since the Wally Charlotte sees has a portfolio on her house and projects, when I get random emails and have to ask for things he's committed to and not done), and since the Wally she sees will arrive day or night as if summoned by Bat Phone and I can't even nail down when or if he'll be showing up at all on most days, and the Wally she gets would never leave a blob of white silicon on her plum ceiling,  or walk away leaving a door unpainted for weeks because he didn't know if it should be painted and didn't think to call or text while the brush was still in his hand and the paint can open, or leave her without a working sink for three weeks forcing her to eat high fat convenience store meals and ruining her girlish figure, Charlotte and Jack will not have any noticeable disasters.

Because her Wally will never let a SNAFU get her attention.

But my SNAFU has my attention. And now I need to get his.