Miguel pulled up about ten minutes ago; I had gone out to do edging on the yard and had taken my phone in case the "big boss" was going to call or text with an explanation.
Miguel doesn't say much, but as I said: he has slightly more English than I have Spanish. He did ask me if I wanted the mailslot left (no, it's an entry point for mice, and the post office won't deliver to them anymore anyway) and asked if I was okay with him removing the storm door (temporarily) so he could fix the damaged siding on the porch.
So here's hoping that a second solid day of work will get everything (or almost everything) finished, and then Martin - who is more communicative - can come and paint.
I'm still not extremely happy and Summer 2022 is going to go down in the books as one of my worst summers, but at least I'm not wondering if Miguel got in a car wreck or something bad.
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