I was buzzing around this morning, busily washing a large portion of the living room floor, collecting my sander and sandpaper, stain and varathane. Gordon halted me in mid-bustle to ask what the hell was I doing? I pointed out an area in the floor that we had replaced and refinished a long time ago—25 or 30 years. We’d hired a floor refinishing company because the owner was deaf. It was a pity hire. I’ll never do that again. The crew he brought in did a terrible job. He only showed up to collect the check and didn’t respond to any of our complaints. I’m still trying to fix some of the stuff his crew did. Some of the new flooring buckled when they finished it. I’m told they didn’t let the wood acclimate or whatever the word is. So, I was planning on sanding down the buckled part, staining it, and finishing it. Gordon pointed out that if anything when slightly wrong (like the stain not matching, the varathane slopping into a new area, etc.), the mushroom factor was terrifying. He reminded me of the time he told me not to saw through a support beam in the kitchen many moons ago when we were starting to redo the house. He referred me to the phone call he got at work. Me: “Hey, you know that beam you told me not saw through and what would happen if I did? Well, you were right.” I remember I couldn’t even get the saw loose, it was stuck in the beam. He had to come home early and prop up that part of the kitchen. I pointed out that it made us get to work on the kitchen but he wasn’t happy with me. I got a good scolding and I couldn’t argue back. He was right. So, when he sees me wandering around with tools he makes sure I’m doing the right thing. Today he talked me into calling a professional and having the floors refinished. It’s time I guess. And these floors are 100 years old. There aren’t many sands left in the them. I need someone who knows what they’re doing. And it saves me time and energy. Good deal.
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