Tales of Flooring

To quote the song whose lyrics I can't remember anymore, 'I'm a sucker for a tall blonde with boobs.'  The song could have been talking about a Corona, but limes make terrible boobs.  So being the grade A sucker that I am, I figured it'd be a good gesture to help her father lay the flooring in her house.  I'm like, "two days tops, maybe two and a half".  Start on Thursday and be done on Saturday before she got back from work.  We even did a little demolition Thursday night with her and the little man watching.  I know I was impressive with my manliness, those massive plywood sheets ripped up from the ground like they were paper...made of dense wood.  Still, I felt impressive.  The old man even said we were way ahead of schedule, which was good because after working nine hours and then moving furniture and tearing up carpet and floor boards I was pretty tired.

Next morning my body creaked and moaned in protest.  "Shut up, I'm manly."  Unfortunately my body didn't listen but I was too motivated to care.  The tall blonde and little man headed off for their day and I went back to demolishing the plywood and prepping the floor.  "HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I yelled in my head and tore up another large sheet of plywood.  I kept thinking, we might even be done by lunchtime on Saturday and then I'll get to play video games and drink beer.  Obviously I've done a lot of flooring in my day.  Eventually the old man showed up and brought along a special plastic tool that allows me to carry these massive pieces of plywood by myself.  Because he hurt his arm the Sunday before we were supposed to do this.  FML.  I mean, I'm not saying my fat ass didn't need the exercise, cause it does, but...well I don't actually have anything to add onto that.  I'm fat and I need the exercise.  So anyways he shows up, and we'll call him the The Professor from here on out because he knows a shit ton of stuff and will always take the time to stop and explain it.

Now I start dragging out these pieces of plywood out and he takes over the nitpicking part of clearing a floor.  We end up having to dig under a few doors to clean them out so we can eventually slide the boards underneath cleanly.  The Professor describe the technique we were going to use as "Sit there and curse while you chisel away at the scraps".  It's a modern technique, what with the advancements in rubber handles for chisels and hammers and new more sophisticated cursing.  Fast forward THREE FUCKING HOURS and finally the room looks ready.  And it's lunch time.  A little Mickey D's and a story about a farm by The Professor and we were ready to finish cleaning up and then lay some flooring!

First, there was "resin paper".  It's pink.  We laid pink sheets on the floor before laying wood.  Giggity.  Now, after the paper you'd think that it would just be all about dropping some wood onto the floor and then pounding shit.  Well, you sir and you madame would be wrong.  You see, you have to get the first row right, the wood has to be straight or it won't fit right.  So we spent the better part of an hour laying the first row of wood. I know, a little foreplay never hurt nobody, but we were losing daylight and I was getting tired.  We had to lay the second row of wood before we could really start pounding away.  This would be the anchor for our glorious new wood floor.  Two hours went by and we had about 4 rows out of 400 done and Friday was done with.  Now at this point I'm accepting that I'm no mathematician, but rather a scientist of a different sorts.  Even I can recognize this is going to take a lot longer than previously estimated.

"HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I say quietly in my head as I clear out a corner we missed.  Help arrived in the form of an uncle, and not my lazy ass friends who "had other commitments".  Like The Professor, he had something to say.  And so we all talked while we worked and suddenly we felt more productive.  I wasn't more productive, there was just me muttering curses "quietly" in the corner while I chipped away at scraps of wood.  The two old men started making good progress while I cleaned up the final corner and then the shifts started.  The Professor was an artisan at his craft.  A single bang with the hammer and in the nail went.  He kept the solid pace and the floor crept along bringing new life to the room.  Soon he tired out and it was my turn to use the hammer.

I took up the hammer and I felt ancient gods stir in my soul.  Patiently I took my time with the first few swings with caution.  I wanted to show these mere mortals how to lay wood.  Soon I was moving at a faster pace, so naturally I thought I was an expert after 15 minutes.  "HAMMER OF THOR!!!"  I yelled  to myself because they're old and I didn't want to startle them.  "Shit!"  I said out loud, because now was precisely the time to curse.  "It's in crooked."

"Well you're going to have to pull it out then."  Said the Uncle who just had to go ahead and make it uncomfortable.

"I don't want to have to hit it again."  I said, suddenly annoyed.

"I'll pull it out, then you need to nail it again."  Said the Uncle who liked making it weird.  Meanwhile The Professor just watched, which was creepy but at least he didn't try to join in.

I looked at my progress and sighed, hours had passed and we were still just barely making progress in the room.  I came to the sudden realization that this was going to take a long time.  Rather than bore you with the rest of the messy details I'll just let you know how my four day weekend ended.  We finished just enough flooring by Sunday night for me to drag in the furniture from the garage so we had a couch to sit on.  And that's how I learned that I was not meant to do flooring for a weekend, much less a living.

Checking In From Minnesota

So I figured I'd take a break from the fantasy writing to check in with everyone.  And by take a break I mean get my lazy ass back to the writers desk. Currently the writers desk is a door on it's side braced by two construction thingy s. I think they're called tripods, but I don't like to get technical in my blogs.

I know when I left many people warned me of the winters in Minnesota.  Thanks everybody, I'll just tuck those New York words of wisdom on Minnesota winters in my butt so I can poop them out later.  Really the winters in Minnesota aren't so bad, I mean, there's about two weeks where it's -35 degrees (Fahrenheit since we know the interwebs are global, gotta take care of my British peeps),  The real issue with Minnesota winters is they are so fucking unpredictable.  Minnesotans will tell the Scandinavian belief, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing."  So we'll go out in winter like we have to live off the land during the zombie apocalypse in the dead of winter.  That means 3 layers on the top and bottom, that means two pairs of socks on truly cold days.  Here's the kicker, we'll walk out and it'll be 10 degrees in the morning.  Cold, yes?  Then it'll warm up to 25 during the afternoon.  We might even be tempted to take off a few layers of clothing, it's almost Spring!!!  So we walk out like what up!  Then night comes and its back to -25 again and we're wondering how we were never able to qualify for the 100 meter dash.  Next day, it's 10 degrees again and you're thinking, "Oh, I'll be fine with the three layers of clothes."  Then we have this anomaly in Minnesota called "THE WINDS OF FUCKING HELL".  So your iPhone will tell you it's 10 degrees out, but it's just fucking with you.  The "Wind Chill" comes into effect.  And suddenly it "feels like" -20 below.  Like fuck you already.  I have 3 layers and a dead animal on and I can't stop this wind from piercing me to the bone.  Then you're in the car praying it'll start like PLEASE just turn over and heat up.  20 minutes of driving and you're heat finally feels like a warm ice cube and then you're at your destination.

Pleasant winters aside I haven't changed much since coming home.  I mean, I grew a beard so I look all mountain man.  Many beards here in Minnesota, land of the Vikings.  I think it's something in the water, which taste suspiciously like beer.  I might be a bit heartier when I shovel the drive way at night and I refuse to use the snow blower like some tourist.  I also might have broken it the first big snowfall.  Anyways, that's all I have for now, stay warm out there.