Her Ladyship

Notes from the gutter.

Monday, October 08, 2007

All tucked in

Our two-day project to refloor our house has stretched into an eight-day hell-fest. About the only good thing is that since our office is presently out of commission (it has suffered a subfloor leak from the air-conditioner, so it's all ripped up in an attempt to dry), I have to work while sitting on my bed. Okay, actually, I'm in my bed, my cat is on my lap, and I have a couple of chocolate molasses cookies* at my side. This is not a bad way to work.

While all this mess - we're living here while the flooring is being put in, which has meant that we've had to constantly shift furniture from room to room, depending on where they are working. Plus we're swapping the bedroom and the office - is distressing for The Texan and me, it's the pets who are truly freaking out. Animals even more than people like consistency and routine, neither of which has been in our house for the past week.

The dog is slowly learning not to skid on the new floor - although we do get at least a couple of Scooby Doo-worthy flailing of the limbs every day - but the cat is really annoyed by everything. His biggest peeve is that he can't quite jump up on the bed now, since the floor is wood laminate in the bedroom and we've got a silk comforter on our bed. There's nothing there for him to grab onto, and while it's kind of fun to see him cling precariously to the side of the bed, you do have to feel sorry for him. So I've jury-rigged a little ladder for him with his litter container providing a step up so that he can join us at night. Thus far it appears to be working.

And do not feel that I am doing this just because he's my darling little angel and nothing's too good for him: I am doing it largely for my sanity. See, when he can't do something he wants to do, he complains about it. Loudly, persistently, and for hours at end. Saturday night we were kept up from about 1 to 5AM with his pissing and moaning about it. Hence, the litter box as step-stool.

Anyways, lately we've gotten really into "Flip That House" on TLC, or, if you're very ambitious, "Flip This House" on A&E. The difference? The former is a half hour and shows non-professionals doing house-flips and all the comedy that ensues (my favorite is when someone does something boneheaded and the captions come on to tell you why it's not a good idea). The latter shows various real estate teams who do it for a living. Either way, it involves a lot of yelling at contractors, something I can really get behind lately. Thursday was a particularly bad day when I broke down in tears while dealing with three difference contractors. You want to see a pair of guys move quickly? Have a female start tearing up in their vicinity. The flooring team skedaddled so quickly they didn't even bother to pick up the trash they'd left behind or reattach our bathroom door (we're friendly and open here, but not THAT friendly).

* While The Texan is in charge of cooking at our house, I in theory am in charge of baking. Which means about once every couple of month I make cookies. This time it was a recipe for chocolate molasses cookies I'd gotten out of the paper. My mom has this story about how when she was little she ate a whole jar of molasses, something I call bullshit on since there is no possible way anyone could swallow a whole jar of that sort of bitterness. It works in cookie form, though, and these turned out so well that The Texan bogarted the whole cookie jar. That usually is my job.


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