refinishing the floor

That's what I'm doing tonight. I've done the other side underneath the rolled up rug and furniture, so at this point we're almost done, only 1/4 left after this.

I stripped all the old finish off, what was left of it anyway, crawled around rubbing with chemicals and steel wool.

Then I sanded spots. You can see where we've been walking for twenty some years. Last time I did the floor, other than waxing, was in 1989.

So we shoved it all to the side a couple weeks ago and began. Last week when I did the other side, we came home from Target and the house smelled like gas fumes. All the pilot lights were lit, but it smelled terrible.

We went out to the yard and called the gas company.

In an hour, they came, but what a long hour sitting in the back yard with all the kids and dogs, bored and hungry.

Tim came over and asked me, "So when is the house going to blow up?"

I told him I didn't think it would, actually.

"Pretty soon then?"

"No, probably not at all."

He peered at me, then looked back at the house, "Well, I really hope it doesn't. I got a lotta stuff in there."

Oh, Timothy.

In about ten minutes he wandered back to me, "So, I see it still hasn't blown up yet."

And then the gas company came and found a couple teeny gas leaks in the office, red tagged the place and said to get a professional plumber out to repair it.

Yes, we even know a plumber.

Jay did fix the leaks and turn the gas back on, but we really doubted the whole thing. Those little leaks have been there the whole time and our house is drafty. When all this happened, many windows were wide open to ventilate the varnish.

The guy insinuated we didn't know the smell of varnish from natural gas.

Pbbbfllt. I do so.


Turns out the gas company had put too much stink in the natural gas. They had calls everywhere all over town, even people who didn't have gas leaks, whose pilot lights were not able to burn off the quantity of stink.

So, Timothy, it was an error at the gas company. The house was never in danger of exploding.

Okay, Tim. Nobody is laughing here except you. Get your hand out of there.

So I'm in here now while the stain dries, then a coat of tung oil, and then a bath.

While I was sanding, Jay was hollering at me, "Vaaaal!" over the sander. I turned to look, annoyed--can't you see I'm sanding the floor? There he was in silhouette against the dining room light and it looked like he was picking up turds off the floor.

I said, "WHAT are you doing? Did you shit on this floor just to harass me? How dare you!

How. Dare. You."

He doubled over laughing, "No, no, it was Sidney!" (She doesn't like the rain, gets all seized up in the rain and can't go.)

But apparently her guts release nicely in the LIVING ROOM.

I told Maria when she came to the stairs, and she apologized and then asked where Sidney was. Her dad said, "She's outside. Can't you hear the barking?"

I said, "Yes, and may the owl take her."

Maria: "Mother, you really don't mean that."

Sigh, probably not. But could she quit barking and go crap outside or at least on a floor that's not UNFINISHED at the moment? The whole family room is sub-floor. She could crap a wave out there, but no. Right in here next to me. That's not right.

Tomorrow I'll put on a couple more coats of tung oil, and Saturday wax and buff the floor, and then the furniture can go back, and next week the last section. (Can't block all the doorways at once, you know.)


Here he is modeling the Halloween costume we found at the second hand store: Luigi. We have to find some white gloves and a mustache, but looking good, Buddy. love you so, Mom