This is the second in a series of stories that I started putting together, based on experiences that I had when I lived in a fixer-upper house in Southern NH.
Once the boyfriend and I ascertained that he was going to be the CSO (Chief Snowblower Operator) of the house, I turned my attention to the inside of the house. The house did have plenty to recommend it, in its way–sunny rooms, a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, vaulted ceiling in the living room, a pantry, a good sized-kitchen, etc.The flooring, however, was just not going to cut it. More accurately, I was concerned about sections of old cracked flooring cutting me, or either cat, or dog.
So off I went to what would become one of my favorite places, Home Depot. A whole store dedicated to possibilities and fixes, and eminently practical, mixed with a shot of creativity and fun–that’s a place I need to be! I wandered around and wandered around the Home Depot..and I found this miraculous stuff as a stopgap measure for the floor. I thought it would do for a few years until I could build a new house. It was, and is currently, known as sticky tile. Lovely stuff. I am a fan.
I started where the floor was the worst–in the main hallway. So UP came the crappy old floor. I fought and struggled and swore and I peeled that crap up with the aid of sheer determination, along with a butter knife, an EMS knife (as they are known locally), and the windshield scraper for my truck. Only to encounter enough dirt underneath it all to sand my back stairs after a blizzard. Then I vacuumed and only then did I realize what I had been down in all day. Dirt. Yuck. Eeu.
Coming back to the task at hand, I blessed the floor with Reiki symbols, and I laid tile like a demon on what was now nice clean subfloor before it got dirty again. Although I did screw up trying to get the corner by the bathroom right. Ah well. First time doing it, bound to happen and all of that. I was just proud of myself for getting that far.
When I got done, I realized that I had, in fact, bought too much tile. Doing some quick math, I realized I’d have enough to re-lay the floor in the pantry, and there was enough daylight left to do it. Woohoo! So..up came the pantry floor, which co-operatively came up as a single sheet, as I recall. Down went the sticky tile, one tile at a time.
Finally I was done with the 2 new floors for one day. I was so proud of myself. I felt empowered, proud, and like I was finally getting the hang of this homeownership thing. I felt sore. The snowblower incident was just a blip. My pride, however, was very short-lived.
I believe I mentioned in tale #1, that at the time, I had an elderly dog and an opinionated cat. Well, the cat was only a kitten then, and, like most kittens, he was both sneaky and curious. Without me realizing it, he’d sneaked into the pantry before I’d closed the pantry door for the night and gone to bed–at the other end of the house.
A few hours later, the dog wakes me up, all cold nose and doggie concern. Then I heard the howls. Not knowing what to think, I go tearing back up to the kitchen end of the house, and realize that the cat has been caught in the unheated pantry most of the night. So I think, “ok, open the door, let him in, he’ll be fine.”
Imagine my shock when I opened the door and saw that the cat had somehow managed to get up onto the top pantry shelf, knock my trusty can of expandable spray foam insulation off of the shelf, managed to get the cap off and spray the stuff. All over himself, and all over my brand-new floor and the wall; and had, in fact, managed to glue himself to the floor with the spray foam insulation. There were howls of dismay. Whether his or mine were louder is a matter of some debate.
There was no choice. Up came the brand-new pantry floor as the sun was rising. Fortunately, it was sticky tile and wasn’t terribly expensive. Alas, the cat was still glued to some of it. I used to be a cat and dog groomer. I still had my electric clippers, which were promptly located and put into service shaving sticky tile and expandable spray foam insulation off of the (longhaired) cat. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I then had to wash the chemical residue off of the cat. The house used to house an in-home hair salon, so, I toss this big-assed, by now semi-bald cat over my shoulder, grab the pet shampoo and some towels, and head back down to the other end of the house. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I was less amused when I discovered that he did not, in fact, fit in either the kitchen or the hair salon sink. He was just too darn big. The cat at this point is giving me dirty looks as I have him standing with his hind legs in the hair salon sink, and with his front paws draped over my forearm. Which doesn’t sound like that big a deal until one realizes that this is a 20 lb cat (all muscle, bone and fur, and still growing), I don’t have the water on yet, and I don’t know how this animal is going to react when I have the water on. Long story short, while cat did not appreciate his bath, the fact that I am still here attests to his fine temperament and good humor about such matters.
Lessons learned: Always keep the sticky/poisonous stuff in a cabinet that the pets can’t open. Don’t be an ‘that idiot’ who assumes that there is no way a pet is going to get into something. They might surprise you!
Always make sure that, if you have intentions towards washing your own pets, that you have facilities to do it.
Don’t get cocky when your home improvement project goes better than you had hoped.
Until next time…peace.
No comments:
Post a Comment