Oh, we are working on the floor in the upstairs hall bathroom – yes, the one that has half-planking from where the original house stopped and nice plywood from where the added-on house began. Der Bingle was surprised, but I had thought about it one night and figured it was going to be like the original kitchen and the extended- on part.  Fortunately, upstairs in the bathroom is not decades of black incredibly strong bonding material. Do you have any idea the amount of time it took me to get that off the kitchen floor way back when. Well, a lot. I would get out the the heat gun and I would hear, “She’s DOING it again.”

Some preliminaries are being done this evening. At one point Cameron said he was going to get something to eat and I bellowed, “What? This isn’t one of those sissy new age jobs.” I’m stretching the truth. I wasn’t clever enough to pop that out; I was more in the “this isn’t any union job, buddy” vein.

I may be a slow starter on this work thing, but once I’m going, meals are out of the picture. Just give me iced tea. I mean: Time’s a-wastin’ . . . We’re burning daylight . . .

But, then, sometimes, I’m  a little different when I’m not the bossman.