When I asked Travis what I should write about, he paused. He then said “why don’t you write about this giant pile of wood?” No, he wasn’t referring to the wood in his pants…keep it clean, people (pfff…yeah right, like I can do that). He was talking about the literal pile of wood that is currently stacked up in our dinning room. It is not fire wood, it is hundreds of pounds of wood flooring. “That’s close to $12,000 of wood!” He shrieked when he learned that his parents were going to redo their wood floors. He excitedly loaded up half of the Amazon forest in the back of his pickup after his parents were finished pulling it up from their house. Now, here it sits…in our dining room. Looking like drift wood clogging up the feng shui of the damn house!
Travis is in between jobs so naturally, being the busy little North Dakotan beaver that he is, he has to have projects going to occupy his days. So this opportunity to rip up our nice, soft, warm, cushy carpeting is perfect for him! Except for the fact that he has about 10,500 other projects in the works. He will start his new job soon. The Christmas tree hasn’t even been taken down because Mount Wood is overflowing into the necessary work space to take fragile ornaments down. Our dinning room table has been dashed aside and now sits at an awkward angle up against a wall so only one person at a time can sit. Oh, but we have $12,000 of wood. Mind you, that word is warped and will need to be sanded and refinished. Did I mention that he will start his new job soon? Yeah, I’m feeling like a sour patch kid right now…bitter. But if by some miracle, he does finish this monstrous project, I will be sweet. Except for the fact that wood floors hurt my knees and I hate having to sweep every single fucking day. Soooo…just bitter.
I’m sure it will look lovely when he does manage to finish said project. But until then, there is a pile of wood in the dinning room…I can’t even vacuum over there. It is killing all my will power to keep the house clean. It is making it impossible to take the tree down, so there are pine needles everywhere because the cats still like to play with the tree, but I can’t maneuver the vacuum in that area of timber-fallout so why even bother vacuuming the rest of the house?! And then I can’t justify sweeping because the debris from the carpet will just be tracked into the kitchen where it will get stuck in my socks and poke my toes. And then when I go to try and remove the debris from my toe, Spartacus will want to rub up against my leg while I am perched like a Flammingo on one foot, which will throw my balance completely off, causing me to execute a running-in-place-on-top-of-a-pile-of-loose-marbles-type-thing while Spartacus gets sucked into the vortex of my whirling legs, throwing me even more off balance. I step on his tail, then his face, this his abdomen, then I fall backwards at the perfect angle to break my neck on the counter. I would then probably become comatose. And WHY? Because there is a pile of wood in the dinning room.
So after you have written out your “get better” cards to me and are reading them to my corpse of a body being operated by life-support, make sure you point your fingers of shame at Travis and then give him a business card for a guy you know who installs wood floors.
Yes, I am being a princess. Yes, I am bitter that my motivation to keep house has been killed by a stack of wood. Yes, I am being dramatic. But goddamn…I needed to vent. Yes, I love Travis. The floor will look beautiful…it will, it will, it will. Until then, I will continue to be bitter and curse that pile of wood. It is literally going to kill me. You heard it here first.
P.S. That bit about Spartacus getting caught up in between my legs and nearly killing me actually happened…I did almost fall on my face. It was traumatizing.
