So for the past two weeks I have had the my-diamond-shoes-are-pinching-my-feet problem of a kitchen remodel. We've been in Chateau Travolta for five years, and this baby has been a long time coming. For the past two weekends, Beloved and I have ripped out soffits, torn out cabinets and nearly severed our hot water pipe (on accident, that last one). We've also had much use of the world's most fun tool, the fubar.

Now that we've found the linoleum under our linoleum and chiseled away the offensive tile in the foyer, the rebuild began this morning when the cabinet guys arrived. And listen, I can handle the barely veiled disdain and the insinuation that I might be more concerned with the color of screws than weight distribution, but the belching. One of these guys has belched 17 times in the past five hours, and he was gone for a while for lunch. None of the other guys has said a word. 

Are they so accustomed to his extra air that they don't notice it anymore?

Or is this part of the trade-off? No office politics, you can belch whenever you want, but you might end up arthritic early from the manual labor? I'm thinking of Office Space, clearly, but is it real?

I know plenty of people who work with their hands, and I can't imagine them walking into someone's house while they are there and belching every four seconds. Please tell me it's just this guy.