Remodel Blogging - Forensic Analysis Of A Week In My Damned Basement

To paraphrase (badly) Astronaut James Lovell on the wildly successful, yet not completed*, Apollo 13 mission to the moon:

"We have 17,000 things to do. We are on number 9. Do your job."

That is, on a far lesser yet much more personal scale, the story of my week, excepting that I believe of the 17,000 things I had to do (and that's not counting each piece of flooring as a single task...

...well, maybe. Don't judge me!), I'm into the mid 15,000's, and quite pleased.

Incidentally, for any grammar pedants reading this, this entire opening has been an huge metaphor fail. Thanks, try the veal.

I am still on vacation tomorrow, but my mission is to restore the homestead to some version of functional. Home point two, or some such. Do dishes. (ACK). Laundry. (FUDGE.) Find my bed. Find my wife. Eat something not made at Buffalo Wild Wings.

So, on to the analysis.

Flooring 95 percent. The transitions from laminate to the tiled bathroom floor have befoozled me and may continue befoozling - we'll see. I do not yet have a fully grown plan for the stairwell, excepting that it will be expensive and a pain-in-the-ass.
Electrical 95 percent. Sconces in and put up, ceiling fans in and put up. She-Who-Walks-On-My-Favorite-Ground must pick device covers, otherwise ready for final inspection. After the final inspection, the real electrical gets done - disco balls, smog machines, electric strippers.
Paint touch-up can be ordered. Today, a friend of mine, poor bastard, answered my call for help, cheerfully, he's a good friend, and a damn genius (engineer and geek), and a hard worker, and we got the 4 major things downstairs with a minimum amount of damage, and he was taking me out of his phone contacts as he left...
Garage. I CAN SEE FLOOR. Wanted to get a handful of things done in it tomorrow, primarily making room for the stuff from the storage pod so's I can get the bloody thing out of my driveway, but the cold front hit the upper midwest this afternoon. Went from 30 degF to 8 degF and still dropping, wind swirling. Birds dropping out of flight, to shatter harmlessly on the ground. Well, nearly harmlessly - one neighbor kid's skills in broken field running leave something to be desired, like skill, but I s'pect this would be called motivation.

I'm happy, Sweetie's happy, and I don't want to go to work Monday. Poop.

*Read the book, see the movie - unbelievable.