The Floor Wars Saga, Episode 2: The Linoleum Strikes Back

It's unfortunate that it took a number of months for the CL (Crazy Landlady) to finally get around to replacing the crumbling kitchen tile on my level of the house.

It's doubly unfortunate that she decided to do it, nearly 2 weeks later than planned, just as I started the busiest 5 weeks of my life.

In early April, she finally announced that she would be starting to rip up the old floor. I was told to move everything out of the kitchen. I told her I wasn't moving the appliances. After a long pause, she said she guessed that she and her assistant could do that. This left me with a kitchen table, 2 chairs, a stand-along pantry and all of the contents, a 3-drawer bin with cat food, a 3 bin garbage and recycling can, and a portable dishwasher - all of which had to be moved into the postage-stamp-sized living room.

I spent a couple of hours moving things one evening - after putting in a 13-hour day between 2 jobs. Parked things in the living room, my daughter's bedroom - every corner that something would fit and still make it possible to escape should there be a fire. The contents of the pantry landed on the kitchen countertops, but I figured it would only be for a couple of days. A few dishes remained in the sink, but again, I can put up with that until the floor is in, right? I mean, how long could it take? The space is only 8 feet by about 13 feet.

The next day CL comes up to do some measurements. "Oh," says she, "You'll have to move everything out of the living room too."

Pardon?

"We have to cut a template for the floor. So I'll need a space larger than the kitchen floor to lay it out."

PARDON?

Where, I asked politely, did she think I was going to be able to move everything?

"You'll just have to move it."

I pointed out that there really wasn't any place that it could move. I wasn't prepared to haul a portable dishwasher up a flight of stairs, and I wasn't going to sacrifice my safety, and my daughter's, by blocking exit points.

So she stood there for 20 minutes, verbally telling me how I should rearrange everything Tetris-style, so she could cut out a paper template. To her, I smiled and nodded. To myself, I thought - fat bloody chance.

Perhaps I can blast the floor out and save her some time.

Now, after rearranging my living spaces, she announced that she would be up on Friday to lift the old floor. Friday night I arrived home - to a room completely untouched. Saturday - same thing. Nothing had been done. I can't cook, I can't clean, I can't eat, and I can barely sit down.

She calls Saturday evening - she'll be up Sunday to do everything and what time could she come up? Thankfully I'm leaving for work by 9:30 AM, and tell her so. "Oh. Is that the earliest I can get in?"

Does anyone have a tie-fighter I can use?