Well, that just about killed me.

Install laminate flooring, they said. It’ll be easy, they said. Just click it together, they said.

Good god.

Perhaps for Stan the Handyman, installing laminate flooring would be a breeze. For me the English teacher and my hubby the graphic designer/drummer, well, that was a different story.

The morning after the bulk of the flooring was put in, I arose at 4 a.m. because my entire body was so sore (especially my back) that it felt that I had malaria. Ok, I will admit that I do not know what it feels like to have malaria . . . but I think it probably feels like that. The constant bending over, measuring, placing, crawling around on my knees and pounding in the boards got to my aging body. Plus, I only had a vague notion of what in the hell I was doing, so there’s that too.

It took a day and a half (which for a seasoned pro, it probably would have taken a few hours), but the room is done and we are proud of our new space.

I actually hate using that word – “space” – because it is SO OVERUSED on every home renovating/real estate show out there. Have you ever noticed that? Next time you watch one of them, count the number of times someone enters a room and says, “Oh, this is a nice spaaaaaaace.” They always seem to say it with just smidge of valleygirl accent, too. OMG, I love this spaaaaaaace. That is what I am now saying when I enter the breezeway.

If you look closely, you will notice the quarter round along the right side of the room looks like it is not nailed down yet. That’s because it isn’t. Here’s a little story about why I abhor doing home improvement projects – something ALWAYS goes wrong.

I borrowed a pneumatic tack gun and air compressor from a work friend. We used it for about 15 minutes and the air compressor (pretty new) suddenly stops pressurizing, rendering the gun useless. So not only could I not finish the trim, but now I have to tell my friend that I am returning her air compressor in a non-working condition. THAT is my worst nightmare! I always worry about being “that person” who breaks borrowed items. Now I’m that person. My husband and I just looked at each other in exasperation. What should have been a pretty easy project turned into one where we both wanted to pull our hair out.

Next steps: get a rug to absorb some of the sound, for right now that room is a regular echo chamber with the vaulted ceilings and hard floor.

Next steps after that: GET RID OF THE UGLY FAKE FIREPLACE.

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