I sat back on my heels, wiped the sweat dripping down into my eyes, and surveyed my work. My floors look good. In need of varnish and buffing, but good.
A few weeks ago, I started pulling up the carpet. It was new, the previous homeowners installed it to help sell the house. But it was cheap and beige (neutral colors sell houses don't you know) I'm not one to throw money away so I threw all the carpet downstairs, I figured it would work well in the basement, adding warmth and sound suppression for the media room I had planned.
After the carpet removal, I set about refurbishing the boards; filling in nail holes, replacing broken, rotting planks, sanding, and stuff like that; then I began my hunt for the perfect color stain. Considering the wood type and the floors' age, the right color combination was not easy to discover. Its patina didn't take well to golden hues, so I worked with dusky oak colors.
I am not necessarily a handy guy. I know how to do most of this type of work, I simply Do. Not. Like. It. But, it is what it is. It's my new home, and work needs to be done to make it feel like mine, I'm not so filthy rich that I can afford to pay someone to do everything that needs to be done.
It wasn't only financial concerns, that had me crawling around on my hands and knees, applying a stain, rubbing it in, and wiping it down. Three coats in case you wanted to keep score. Honestly, I was trying to distract myself from my darkening mood. Trying not to dwell on the depression and flitting thoughts of self-destruction.
I hadn't spoken to Shawna much since I bought my house. Granted, she and Jack are living their best life, in fact, the last time I spoke to her she talked about a trip that would be kind of a honeymoon for them. Not a word since then. I'm happy for them, truly I am. But she was someone to talk to when I needed it. I thought about Paul so I stopped by the tavern one afternoon, Paul wasn't there, and the truth is; that I cannot see myself driving 20 miles into town once or twice a week to have a drink and chat with an acquaintance.
The hardest part for me was the silence from my online friend. The last I messaged her was during one of my darker moods. I was drunk, a little surly, and a little too forward. After a silent week, I reached out to her and learned that I somehow missed a message from her to which I had failed to reply.
My mind chewed on the idea that while I had not upset her, she only reached out once, and my demons explained to me in detail how little I mattered to her in the grand scheme of life. Not talking to her hurts. It hurts entirely too much for a relationship borne of a smartphone app. So, in the throes of my spiraling depression, I decided that I was pathetic, and I had what I longed for; solitude, a comfortable home (or soon to be comfortable), and peace. Sucks to be me.
Consequently, I began work on my house to fill the void. I spruced up the bathroom in the master bedroom; tiled the shower enclosure, new paint, a new toilet, and a vanity. Pretty much just a facelift, but it looks sooooo good. Then I considered the main bath and decided the old farmhouse look would suffice for now (honesty, the tile work in
my
bathroom was such a fucking pain in the ass I decided that I could live with something short of perfection, for now).
I took a similar approach to the kitchen. The cabinets were sufficient so I left them alone, but I replaced the sink, dishwasher, refrigerator, range, and countertops. I'm in debt up to my balls, but my kitchen looks good.
So here I am, sitting back on my haunches, sweat in my eyes, deciding how I will go about varnishing my newly stained floors. I step out to the porch with a bottle of water and notice the light dusting of snow on the ground. The weather here is mercurial, snow pops up unexpectedly and goes away just as quickly.
I sit down and realize just how tired I am. At almost 60 I should not have spent so much time doing my floors by hand. My brain seems to think I'm in my 20s but my body tells a different story. My improperly matured brain also begins to realize the complete ridiculousness of the thoughts that brought me to this point.
The ache and exhaustion in my body seem to give me more clarity of thought. I've been completely unfair to those people in my new life. While not necessarily unfair to them physically, I've been unfair in my thoughts and my feelings. No one has been unkind to me, no one has rejected me, nor have they done anything to hurt me, other than what I've conjured in my own, depression-influenced mind. Chiding myself for my stupidity, I send a text to Shawna, sending my love and hopes that she and Jack are doing well. I text Paul and tell him I miss seeing him regularly and that I will make a point of coming in to have my usual.
The hardest message is to my online friend. I'm not sure if I've said something hurtful to her or not. In the past when I was in a similar state, I had difficulty remembering things I had said and done. I hope I didn't do anything hurtful, but regardless I know I pretty much disappeared on her. I message her to explain what has been going on in my mind, express my regret that I haven't written in a long while, and apologize for thinking and feeling things I had no right, or reason, to feel.
With amends made, hopefully, I decide to find a professional to finish the floors. I don't have the equipment to properly apply polyurethane evenly, I would have to rent it, haul it out here, etc., etc., etc. It just makes sense to let a professional do this last piece, and I realize that finally, my mind is clear enough to recognize good sense. Resolved and satisfied, I step out on the porch, sit in my chair and pull out my phone to start looking for a flooring contractor.
Pulling up to the house I see the flooring guy hasn't arrived yet, thank God. I made the 'consultation' appointment for as late in the day as I could, but I still had issues leaving work behind and making it home. I'm just glad that I didn't keep anyone waiting. I hate it when it happens to me and I hate it even more if I do it to someone else.
No sooner than I got out of my car I see a truck making its way up my drive, and I watch the two guys get out and make their way toward me. Now is the time I would like to tell you that these guys were hot, swarthy, muscular young men, oozing sex and confidence. Yeah.... Not so much.
"Howdy, I'm Dan and this is my son Mark." He smiled and stuck out his hand. I shook it and nearly had to force myself to smile. (Okay. I'm the one that was hoping for hot, swarthy, muscular young men, oozing sex, and confidence). Dan looked to be my age, a bit shorter than me and while not fat, he was thick (guys like me are not my thing). His son, Mark, was about the same height and while not fat, he was dumpy. He had a very narrow face, prominent nose, and unfortunate ears, which clashed outrageously with his shorter, wider body. I feel bad for thinking these guys were unattractive, but they were, and my 'seducing the contractor' fantasy went down in spectacular flames.
"Hello, I'm JP, nice to meet you," I said after shaking his hand and doing the same with his son. "Let me show you what you're up against" I turned to the house and led the way to the back door.
When I had finished staining the floors and started looking for someone to varnish them, I found that no flooring contractor capable of doing the job was available. Luck helped when I found Dan under ads for 'handyman'. He was experienced, had the equipment, and was available in two weeks rather than two months. So, I booked him, laid floor coverings from the back door to the basement stairs, and moved all my stuff down there. I was not about to do anything to mar the floors that I practically killed myself staining. Two weeks allowed me time to work on the basement, install the carpet I threw down there and, against my early judgment, upgrade the bathroom a bit.
Dan stepped in the door and looked around. "Who was... You told me on the phone that you redid the floors and needed them finished. You did all of this?" He knelt and looked at the floor a little closer. "What color is this stain? I haven't seen anything quite like it before?"
I admit that I puffed up a bit at his comment. "It's a custom color. I tried a few combinations before I came across the shade that I liked."
He stood up and looked around. "Well, if you have the recipe for that color, I would not be opposed to getting it from you. I probably could use that on future jobs and charge a bit more." He turned around and looked at his son "Get our slippers so we can get a walk-through." Mark nodded and headed for the truck, came back with some booties and he and Dan took off their shoes, put on the booties, and looked at me, "Can we walk through and take a look?
I nodded, kicked off my shoes, and walked them through the house.
The walkthrough was quick since the house was empty. Dan didn't notice any areas of concern and since he had no prep work to do, he said he was sure he could have the entire house varnished in a single day. "It'll be a day to lay the varnish, at least 24 hours to let it dry, which means you could walk on it if you had to. I would prefer to give it 72 hours to cure completely."
So, 4 days out of my house? A small price to pay I suppose to have the perfect floors. I shook his hand, signed the contract (because yeah, this is the real world and no one makes deals on a handshake), gave him a key, and saw them on their way. I went downstairs, packed up a bag and anything I might need for nearly a week away, locked the basement door, and took off into town.
So here I am, sitting on the bed in my hotel room, watching something, nothing, on the TV, and bored out of my flipping mind. I looked at my phone and debated with myself, and finally, after a vigorous discussion, I decided to take the plunge. Downloading Grindr, I signed in, changed my profile message to include 'looking for rn', and went back to the TV and waited for someone to tap me or message me.
