The Misfits Of Copper County

<p><strong style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>When you burn down your contractor's home... and kind of accidentally invite him to move into yours.</strong></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>First things first that fire was a fluke. A tragic completely unintentional byproduct of high emotions an ill-timed backyard grilling... and one very shirtless man.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>I only meant to confront Brewer-my maddeningly stoic contractor-about a few </span><em style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>small</em><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)> concerns with the renovation of my historic money pit. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Instead I got distracted by his muscles (who grills shirtless in February I ask you?) I tripped over my words-and my feet-and... well my carefully-ordered life went up in flames. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Suddenly Brewer's living in my attic his dainty teacups are in my cabinet his slobbery dog is all up in my business and I find myself renovating my whole future just as surely as Brewer's renovating my home.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Copper County was never my endgame. Once I finish writing my article I'm off on my next assignment. But between late night conversations sledgehammer therapy sessions and solving the Jam Cupboard Mystery (it's a real thing I promise) I'm starting to think we're building something neither of us expected. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Because the more I learn about Brewer the more I realize I'm not the only misfit in Copper County. And that maybe it's time I stop chasing other people's truths... and start writing my own.</span></p>