I ask you…
Life was rolling along nice and easy. Well, easy is not the correct adjective. Let’s just say life was rolling along. The thing is, I have 8 animals, run a nonprofit, trap feral cats throughout the week, relocate those that need new homes, help care for my disabled sister, play team tennis and am nursing a pesky sciatica which, like a jilted lover, is having trouble letting go.
So I don’t know what I was thinking deciding to have my hardwood floors refinished last week. Had I forgotten it was a pain in the keister 13 years ago when it was last done? Apparently so, otherwise I wouldn’t be blogging about it today.
Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not like my floors were embarrassingly scratched and faded, causing me to refuse entry to family and friends. No doubt theirs, too, are scratched and faded. Whose aren’t? Especially those of us with pets that refuse to let us clip their nails without being in a straight jacket or heavily sedated.
Sadly, my furry crew is the straight jacket/sedative kind. Therefore, I tend to let nail clippings slide. Translation: enter the floor refinishing company. So after emptying my living and dining room, they sanded all day until a fine mist of dust hung in the air like floating flour. Luckily Jesus, the re-finisher, taped off the rooms but dust finds a way around hanging plastic.
On day 2 it was time to stain. That’s when I learned, other than the family room and kitchen, the rest of the house was off limits for a week. Hadn’t I realized that? That would be a negative. Not surprisingly, I forgot that part from 13 years ago. Yes, ignorance can be bliss until enlightenment shoots that to hell.
So I quickly grabbed what I thought I needed, returned my two foster cats to Marin Humane and settled in for the long haul. Let me just say it’s amazing what items you absolutely must have when you know can’t get to them…like craving ice cream the second you start dieting.
Anyway, once staining and varnishing began, I left the windows and patio doors open to dispel the overpowering fumes. Since I don’t have a single brain cell to spare, I imagined with every breath a dozen were annihilated forever; after a week I could very well be in a vegetative state.
Getting my cats in at night is normally not a problem except they knew something was up and hesitated to enter the family room. I had to coax them in with treats and other bribery. Luckily, it worked. But in the confusion, 6 of my 8 animals insisted on sleeping with me on the sofa all week. Thankfully my Greyhound and Border Collie had the good sense to use their dog beds.
It was quite the scene: Jack slumbered on the armrest next to my head, Tippi had dibs on my neck, Skip stuck to my side, Savannah and Oliver occupied the area above the back cushions and Wally lie at my feet. I slept a whopping 3 hours the first night then in the morning played what may have resembled tennis.
I also rigged a system to get to the closest bathroom by laying down a long board from the porch to the stairwell, then I walked the plank. Yes, it was a week of forced togetherness in a fume-filled home with limited freedom to mill about. But hey, the floors are beautiful again. At least I think so. I almost entirely covered them with 2 enormous area rugs.
So again I ask you: What was I thinking?