This is a picture I took five minutes ago of the master bedroom's floor. I realize it is not a gorgeous picture. To me it is, but probably not to anyone else. You see, I spent two hours sanding this floor with a palm sander. I spent 2 hours sweeping, vacuuming, and tack clothing this floor, and another hour picking splinters out of the cracks. I spent 8.5 hours on my hands and knees staining every square inch of these 80+ year old oak floor boards. And then yesterday, I smeared coats of polyurethane over this floor until it was as smooth and shiny as a skating rink. It took all. day. Pretty picture? No. But am I showing it to you anyway? Heck yes I am.
Besides, I haven't told you the best part yet.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Okay, fine. It was a dark and soon-to-be-stormy night. But it was really dark and the wind was picking up. And there I am, all alone in this big, empty room with my poly bucket and my poly stick. The lights are blazing in the room but outside it's night, so the huge, uncurtained windows are like black holes. They're kind of unnerving; people can see in, but I can't see out. It is quiet. I sink my poly pad into the poly bucket... pppppfffffffffttt... and watch as it soaks up poly. I try to ignore the big, black windows. I'm just about to move the poly pad to the floor and apply the final coat when suddenly...
...a bird flies at my head! I scream, throw the poly stick, and tear across that stained floor and past the black hole windows, my sock feet slipping and sliding the whole way. I run out into the hall and slam the door behind me. My heart is pounding. How in the world did a bird get in there?
After a minute, I crack the door and peek in. I look around quickly and when I don't see the bird, I open the door wider. Maybe the blasted bird flew into the sun porch. That had to be it. Maybe if I can close the sun porch door, the bird will be trapped out there and at least I can finish my final coat of poly in here. I venture across the slick floor, eyes on the door. And I'll be danged if, halfway across the room, the bird doesn't swoop down out of nowhere and flap up beside me again!
I race back to the safety of the birdless hall. Again, I wait at the door, peeking in every few seconds to see where the blasted bird is. I crack open the door, it's on the floor in the corner. I crack the door again, moments later, and it's perched on the window sill. I crack the door yet again, and it's on the ceiling fan. And then... oh, my friends... and then, I heard it:Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
The bird messed all over my scarcely-dry-but-still-needing-a-final-coat of poly floor!
You all. That was almost it for me. That was almost the moment I decided to move back to Dallas, get a condo, and resume my former life. There I was in my dirty jeans, my chia pet shirt, and my slippery socks... hair wild, arms sore, and half-high on poly fumes... and a bird had just messed all over my beautiful floor. It was just too much.
The bird standoff lasted for almost two hours, during which said blasted bird messed in three places on the floor.
I am, however, happy to report that the bird did eventually fly in to the sun porch. The bird AND its friend. There were two birds. Two birds. Which explained how that bird was in a different place every few seconds when I cracked the door open.
So late last night, I managed to get the bird mess cleaned up. I got the final coat of poly on the floor. And I'm pleased to announce that the floor is now finished.
Someone asked me last night on Facebook if I got all the bird mess up or if I'll have to redo the floors. My response (and I quote): I will move to Hades before I refinish these floors. I have hated every second of it!
Now. Isn't that above picture of floor the most beautiful picture you've ever seen? I think so, too.
The End.
The floor is positively gorgeous, spoken as one who has tackled sanding, cleaning and polyurethaning her own floor. I couldn't help but laugh about the bird, sorry about the messes it(they) left, but why were you running? I'm pretty sure they weren't really attacking and that they were even more scared than you.
ReplyDeleteWhat a job, what a story, and what a beautiful floor.
ReplyDeleteGood job, Brin. Crazy, stupid, no-good birds!
ReplyDeleteAll your hard work and sore knees paid off! It's perfect!
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, I'd have run too if a bird was swooping at my head! What a story - one that will be far more amusing to you waaayyy down the line! Your floor is beautiful - and so worth it. Great job, Brin. Also... I loved your first newsletter, but hadn't yet commented on it. Just wanted you to know it was a joy to read and I'm lookng forward to the next one!
ReplyDeleteReally like the color.
ReplyDeleteThanks for bringing a laugh to my Friday morning. Poor dear--I would not be laughing if it happened to me, but from a distance it's hilarious. The floors look amazing. And the best part: they're DONE!
ReplyDeleteOh my I am laughing (sorry) but where is the photo of the 'splatted' floor? I'm glad you didn't pack up and leave!
ReplyDeleteLaughing WITH you not AT you! And your floor is gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteI read a few blogs. Okay, more than a few. I like keeping track of all of your interesting lives and hearing all of your great stories. Tonight I laughed until I had tears and after my husband wanted to know what was going on, I read your story to him. He laughed and smiled and finally understood. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThe floor looks fabulous, no matter the crazy birds. But at least you will always remember doing that floor and the birds!
ReplyDeletewait ....... you own a **chia pet** shirt?!
ReplyDelete