In case you are just tuning in, be sure to read The Eddie Show: Season Opener
…and now back to our program.
And so, we marveled as the disintegrating old brick sidewalk (or so Eddie claimed) was rapidly removed and replaced with a fashionable new brick sidewalk – being very professionally laid by the ‘he finally made sense’ bricklayer. For an hour. At which point the brick layer stopped, admired the 20% of the job he’d completed, threw some plastic over a pile of bricks – some old, some new – and left saying, I gotta go, I’ll finish this tomorrow – mañana. That was October. This is April and the path remains the same: 20% new; with a plastic-wrapped pile of bricks in the middle of our torn-up sidewalk; crime scene tape directing everyone to step around the gaping hole; and, while you’re at it, be careful on the steps. The bricklayer had removed the riser on the first step so you climb our front stairs at your own risk.
When we finally put a stop to The Eddie Show some four months later we had four of these damage and dash sites on our property, with none of the contracted work completed and expensive new problems created. Don’t imagine for a minute that any of this was acceptable to us; just know that we’d signed a contract and the mortgage company holding our insurance settlement in escrow had given Eddie close to $8,000 as a deposit on the project. Let’s just say we were desperate to find a way to work with this very charming fellow, who always had an answer, always had an excuse, and constantly added in extras at no cost to sweeten the rapidly souring situation.
But Eddie was fun and he always left us thoroughly entertained and exhausted in the wake of his erratic drop-ins. I’d turn to my sisters following an Eddie appearance, raise my eyebrows and prophetically declare, “Eddie is either bipolar or a criminal or both!” Because renovation à la Eddie didn’t match any business standards I’d ever understood to be normal or acceptable, let alone professional. Eddie didn’t arrive, he entered the scene, and began to perform immediately, claiming every bit of oxygen in the room. Everyone was greeted with a kiss and a request. Annie, please, a Benadryl before your pets kills me. Clare, the love of my life, hot tea, please, I’m dying here. Jokes were told along with great, big, outrageous, over-the-top stories where every character was a mobster or a criminal – everybody’s father was a pedophile and everybody’s kid was a drug addict. Everyone in every story always seemed to be doing time or newly released. One day I challenged Eddie saying, “My God, Eddie, don’t you know any nice stories. It’s like everyone you know is a con.” And Eddie would smile his very winning smile, showing off the fullness of his very nice dental veneers, and he’d wink and I’d think as he exited stage left, yep, bipolar or criminal – mark my word.
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