Thursday, June 13, 2019

The Song of the Nail Gun

Is not a pretty melody.  We know.  The hard way.  I include Fred the cat in the audience … he heard the rattle of a tool box on the way up the walkway  to the front door and faster than the eye can move, he was under the stair well in his Clubhouse, a nest of paper packages of paper towels and toilet paper.   And he stayed there for an hour after they left.  It has one of those bump it doors so in his mad flight from DANGER he just bangs a paw on it, the door swings open and in he goes.  It closes by itself, but a bump from inside and it opens up to freedom.

I was kidding one of them and said, "So - do you have Saturday night nail gun fights?" and he looked horrified and then … a certain flicker of something glittered for an instant in his eyes.  His name is Matt and if he invites you out for a beer on a Saturday night; don't go.

Just a thought …

The job is very nearly done - when the next box of flooring comes in (special order) it will go down, the white painted baseboards will be installed, they will pull up the paper protecting the regular floors and we will all say, "Bye - thank you!"

And I will purr in delight at my new upstairs bathroom and crack a beer.

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