So…good news everybody!! My condo is almost finished! YAY! Not that I don’t love living on a deserted island…
Actually, I like living out here a lot. I’m quite unsocial. And being out here allows me to talk to no one while drinking all the wine i can guzzle. It’s an introvert’s dream.
But, they finally installed my counter tops and carpets and the laminate…
Oh, wait. Because it wouldn’t be a renovation if something didn’t go horribly wrong.
This is the story of linoleum, and the dark secrets it hides.
In my tiny, glorious condo, the kitchen and utility room are covered with linoleum. Now, I have yet to see good-looking linoleum, and this does not help that case much. It’s yellow, it’s peeling, and it’s ugly. So my grown up ass decided it had to go.
But little did I know, the linoleum wouldn’t go down without a fight.
SO. When I first decided that I was going to replace the nasty linoleum with beautiful new laminate (because I’m on a budget, after all!) the man came out to measure my condo. I showed him the nasty linoleum, and even had him get down on its level, and inspect it.
“No,” he told me, “we can just lay the laminate over it”
And like a naive, 22 year old…i believed him.
So, today, the day when my condo was supposed to become livable and my little 22 year old dreams were supposed to come true…they didn’t.
I knew it was bad when my contractor even refused to tell me the news. The Cathy had to tell me that my linoleum, which suddenly became too uneven to lay laminate on, had been ripped up and under it a horrible secret.
A body? You ask? No….
Water damage. And this water damage has to be patched. And that means my laminate couldn’t be installed. So this has left me with half my condo laminated, half concrete, and a fridge and stove in my living room.
So I stood in my half finished condo today, attempting to hang shower curtains and not inhale the pounds of dust that have magically accumulated from all the renovations. And I’m not referring to regular dust, but a fine white powder dust. I’m not sure where it comes from, but every time I leave the condo, I look like I’ve just rolled around in a pound of cocaine. So I stood on my step stool (because I am as tall as a Keebler elf) trying to hang these shower curtains, and cursing the linoleum that now lay in large chucks in my living room.
“What do you want us to do with it?”
“Leave it,” I growled through my teeth, “I want it to suffer”
But I stood up there, mentally cursing everything that had gone wrong that day. And having the poise of a mini horse, I lost my balance, fell off the step stool, and landed on my ass in the middle of the bathroom. And up went a cloud of dust that resembled the mushroom cloud of Nagasaki.
So I sat on my ass in the dust, and this was when I realized something. I had been bitching all day about how things had not gone according to plan. But I had been so busy doing that, that I forgot to remember:
This is my condo. I bought this. ME.
This dust bowl was my creation, and in the midst of all the dust, it was important to remember that and to know that eventually this would be finished. It took something going wrong in my day to make me realize all that had gone right. Weird, right? I think we all do this. I think we all get caught up in the dust that seems to settle around us. Because dust represents details, and it’s easy to get so caught up in them that you lose sight of what’s under the dust. Under the dust is actual stuff, under the dust is our lives, and under the dust is my condo. The good thing about dust is that you can wipe it away, and it’s easily changed. Details can change, and if you’re as crazy as I am, you hate this. But to my knowledge, this is how life works, and unfortunately we just have to accept that we are always going to be dusting. It’s realizing that there is stuff under the dust, and this stuff is important.
That sounded deep, and almost like I know what I’m talking about. Weird.