Domestic Horror Stories #143 – Down to the Bottom

“Done,” he said as he pulled up the last piece of green linoleum.”

“I’ve never been so happy to hit floor boards,” she said.

“Humm.”

“What?”

“Does that look like water damage to you?”

“Where?”

“Near the sink.”

They knelt and he opened the cabinet under the sink.

“Everything looks fine,” she said.

“I wonder where that hole goes,” he said.

“What hole?”

“The one at the back that looks like a tube could be threaded through it.”

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Domestic Horror Stories #141 – Getting Started

He handed her a crowbar.

“You realize that once we start this there is no going back,” she said.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said.

“What if it’s like one of those home shows where they take up the floor, and find a passage to hell under it?”

“Passages to hell only appear behind walls.  We’re going to be fine.”

“I think you’ve not been watching the right shows.”

Domestic Horror Stories #140 – A Whole Room

“Hickory?  Maple?  Pecan?” he asked.

“Suddenly I’m hungry for pancakes and bacon,” she said.

“Type of wood and finish.  We need to choose, or we can’t buy flooring.”

“I know.  It just depends.”

“On?”

“What we’re going to do with the rest of the room.”

“Nothing right now,” he said.

“I know.  But if we’re going to paint it white with white tile backsplash.   Which by the way we shouldn’t.  That’s different flooring that say a blue kitchen.”

“I think we pick the floor we like and work from there.”

“Why?”

“Because last time you went out for red paint, you came back with blue.”

She smiled ruefully.  “Never going to hear the end of that am I?”

Domestic Horror Stories #139 – Flooring

“So many choices,” he said.

“So many really ugly choices,” she said.

“It’s a kitchen floor.  We’re going to spill stuff on it.  How well to you really need to like it?”

She just looked for a moment.  “Well enough.”

“Good point.  Tile?  Linoleum? Faux wood? ”

“Keeping in mind that we’re going to have to put it down.”

“Yes.”

“Probably the floating wood floor.”

Domestic Horror Stories #137 – The Pledge

“Are we okay?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Because our weekend was needlessly long and trying.  Which was partially my fault.”

He raised an eyebrow at her over his coffee cup.

“Okay, it was mostly my fault,” she amended.

“I think it’s time we took a pledge.  Hand over your coffee cup, repeat after me.”

The both placed their hands over their coffee cups, and he cleared his throat.

“I solemnly promise on my morning coffee I will not start a remodeling project without consulting my spouse.”

She repeated his words.

“Especially where plumbing is concerned,” he said.

“Especially where plumbing is concerned,” she said.

“Good.  Now we kiss on it,’ he said.

And they did.