I'm stuck working this weekend. In my pre-maternity leave holding pattern at work, I've found myself working a rotating weekend for the first time in the seven years I've worked for this company. I could probably pitch a fit and get out of it, but they've been pretty decent to me around here lately and I don't mind giving back a little bit. Anyway, there should only be one more weekend after this one. I'll survive.
Doombot is at home. He's been gearing up for weeks (months?) to lay this awesome flooring in the office. This is the main pre-baby Honey-Do project on his list, and its really critical that it gets done before we bring Orion home. The carpet is pretty much shot in the whole house, courtesy of the zoo we're running, but the office was the worst. We figured it was a small, confined area where we could practice using this great new floor that promised to be the solution to our problems. After a long and drawn out process of selecting the color, gathering gift cards for Christmas, and special ordering the materials he was ready to get started.
Friday night was "tear up the carpet" night. That went pretty well, and made us optimistic about the entire project. We had fully expected that the cat pee would have soaked all the way through the carpet and the padding and that we'd have a complicated concrete treatment plan to execute. We got lucky. There were only two spots that looked like there was any pee/slab contact at all, and even those didn't stink. We had the vinegar on hand anyway, and went ahead and treated it as planned. I guess it did need it at least a little bit, because it caused a really cool Mr. Wizard bubbly reaction.
The next step was applying the concrete sealer. By this point, we were kind of thinking that maybe we didn't even need it. But, what the hell, we'd bought it so there was no sense not plowing ahead. Doombot applied the first coat while I was work yesterday. The smell was absolutely overpowering. Yesterday was pretty cool and breezy by Florida in March standards and even with all of the windows open and the fans blasting the house was intolerable when I got home six hours later. There was nothing to be done besides head out for some cheesecake, and by the time we got home another six hours later the noxious cloud had cleared. I think for the rest of the house we're skipping this step!
After depositing me at work this afternoon, Doombot went home to get down to business. I started working along, happy in the certain knowledge that flooring was being laid as I typed. Then the phone rang, and I heard the worst possible greeting. "I think I fucked up."
It took a few minutes for me to get the details straight, but here's how it went down. As Doombot had started the project, he saw where the box said to "follow the included instructions". He opened the box, and saw no instruction sheet floating on the top of the stack of planks. So, he did what I'm sure at least one other man would do. He started working, assuming that he would eventually come across the instructions. Now, you and I both know that when you lay "wood" floor, you use this pattern:
So what does my husband do? He takes the entire box of material, and sticks every piece together (permanently) long end to long end, making himself a free floating slab of PVC wood simulate 24 inches across and about 10 feet long. I guess he wanted a really fancy Slip-n-Slide, because that's about all this thing is good for. The kicker? After he'd emptied the box and thrown in across the room into the garbage heap he realized that the instructions were printed on the bottom of the box. Nice. So now he's calling me asking how to fix it. I answered the only way I could, I told him to scrap it and start over the right way.
So now he's a man on a mission. He's got instructions and he's not afraid to use them! God knows what I'm coming home to, but he's headed to Wal-Mart now for some essential tools that he didn't know he needed until the Mystical Oracle of the Back of the Fucking Box revealed itself. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.