The first floor refinisher we wanted to hire exploded. Literally. There was a boiler in the hall closet of their last job and they didn't extinguish the pilot light before starting. The chemicals are pretty flammable and kablooey the house exploded killing one of the crew members and putting the contractor in intensive care. So we said a prayer, crossed ourselves, spit over our shoulders and then tried to hire refinisher #2. But his phone line had suddenly been disconnected. We asked around and it turns out he left town with quite a few down payments in his back pocket.
Our final contractor, Jepson Floors, was referred by a Mom o Matic reader from Lemont (and I'm so sorry I can't recall your name). We hadn't been able to get in touch with the owner to confirm the contract and were assuming they wouldn't be showing up today as originally quoted. I didn't really care since I have been sick and gross for the past few days. But at 7 AM today...BING BONG! They're here! Husband was running out the door to catch the train and I was in bed trying to climb out of the Nyquil/Benadryl haze from the night before. I had to hurry and grab everything we might need from the upstairs since we we would be basement dwellers while the poly hardened.
I grabbed the kids and brought them to McDonald's playland to frolic while I dragged myself to consciousness. I've got that oh so pretty sick look. Dried sweat, greasy hair and red eyed. And I'm pretty sure I peed myself a little when the doorbell rang. Sitting all around us were well groomed, powdered, senior citizens that had clearly been up for hours. Surely, they thought I was an alcoholic mom trying to sober up after a bender.
And if you recall I've been dealing with a certain, um, issue for some time now. The night before I had purchased some Colon Clenz from Wild Oats as a last ditch effort. Well, it worked. Right then. I knew if I didn't bring the kids with me they'd be snatched while I was chained to the McDonald's potty. Eyes watering, cheeks clenched, I penguin walked across the brown tile trying to adopt a casual, it's all good expression while grabbing the kids. Once inside, Daughter entertained herself by spreading the contents of my wallet out on the dirty McDonald's potty floor. I tried not to think about it too much but I knew I would be windexing my credit cards later tonight.
My sorry ass then hit the dollar store and the library before heading back home. Trying to find bribes and entertainment that would allow me to pass out on the playroom floor for a few hours while they played around me. Once home, I tried to convince son that peeing in the random toilet the previous owners installed in our basement laundry room would be fun. Oh yeah. There is an ejector pipe right next to the mystery potty. So whatever you flushed is going to zoom past the side of your head in a big white plastic pipe that rocks violently to and fro. Not at all frightening for a four year old boy that used to think he was gonna flush his peen if he stood too close to the potty.
Right now son's at a birthday party next door and daughter is "napping". Which means she's playing in her playpen and I'm pretending I can't hear her yell "Mama..waked up!" every 15 minutes. Every so often son opens the front door to run in and grab toys to bring to the party. I run upstairs shrieking, "GO AROUND! GO AROUND!" so he won't walk on the wood floor. I've done this 4 times already.
But the floor's started. And the house didn't blow up. I'll post pictures as soon as I can go upstairs again.