So my plan of avoiding inspectors seems to be working. I'm so feminist I'm anti-fem! Wha?! Let's just say that after decades of fighting anything that moved, at the ripe old age of 39 3/4, I have embraced the adage: "Do you want to be right, or do you want to be effective?" I choose effective. So I smile sweetly and duck out, and voila! We passed yet another inspection on the first try (here's hoping I haven't jinxed it now). Next up, fire suppression.
Chef Tim and his trusty helpers have been working around all this chaos trying to get the tile installed before the kitchen equipment rolls in. And since I was the one who measured it, we came up 9 tiles short. Sigh. Hopefully Morris Tile still has some of those closeouts left or I'm gonna have to get creative.
We've hired our first bartender--everybody welcome an old RVA favorite Lincoln Smith. He doesn't know it yet but his days are going to be filled with painting ceiling tiles and trips to the dump long before we start filling glasses with delicious BFM brews and flutes of sparkling Prosecco.
Off to find the elusive second-hand 72" three compartment sink...