In which the kitchen is finished, but the drama isn’t
For a week the unglued flooring sat untouched. My appliances
and furniture remained in the living room. My entire food supply remained on
the counter tops. The only silver lining in this situation is that I’m rarely
home to do more than sleep and shower. My food budget is shot to pieces from
all the take-out.
But I stood up to her – I said that I wasn’t prepared to
wait 2 additional weeks. The floor needed to be completed, I said. It was
unreasonable to expect me to exist under these circumstances. (I paid for this
effrontery later. Come back for the next few blogs and you’ll read how.)
With much heaving and sighing and lengthy explanations about
her “so busy” schedule, studying for her exam (something about arborists) she
said she’d “try”. But it would definitely have to wait for the weekend.
And it sat… and sat… and finally… Sunday night. The floor is
glued now! Amazing! I had the pleasure of listening to the same list of
instructions – don’t walk, don’t touch, don’t put anything on it. Monday night,
she said, she would come up and move the appliances back into the kitchen. I
offered to help move them. I was ignored. (Not rebuffed, not declined –
ignored. Definitely some hearing loss. Selective hearing loss.)
 | |
| Perhaps I should just learn to levitate. (Daniel Dunglas Home levitates ...1852. Illustration first published in 1887 in Mystères de la science) |
Monday night, she calls – they are coming up to move the
appliances and add a ‘bit’ of caulking. All right, says I. It’s nearly 7 pm and
we are eating supper – a glamorous feast of peanut butter and honey sandwiches;
all I could manage in my 6 inches of counter space. TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER
they leave. After I’m told to sweep immediately, I point out that I only have a
broken broom and haven’t had time to purchase a new one since she broke mine. “You’ll
have to buy one. Tomorrow. I won’t tolerate this floor not being swept every
day.”
I was also left with a stack of note cards: “Don’t wash the floor
with anything other than water and baking soda.” “Don’t use rubber backed mats
unless approved by the manufacturer of the flooring.” (Side note: I still haven’t
received the manufacturer’s name or contact information.) “Any cleaning product
that isn’t baking soda and water must be manufacturer approved, through her.” “Don’t
spill water on the floor directly. Only wipe with a damp cloth. Don’t drip.” “Don’t
track debris in.” “Vacuum and sweep DAILY.” “Don’t wear shoes on it.”
And the final straw – no more portable dishwasher. She’d
already replaced the base of my kitchen chairs with new, wider (uglier) ones.
Now, if I wanted to use my portable dishwasher, I would have to buy several
large plastic floor protectors. The kind you see in offices underneath rolling
chairs.
And those mats – she helpfully priced out the only ones she
would ‘allow’ me to buy: $75 dollars each, or more. I would need at least 2,
probably 3.
So, I’ve put up with a crumbling floor for over 8
months. I’ve put up with her delays. I've put up with a kitchen in shambles for
nearly 3 weeks. All so I could have the privilege of purchasing $200 of ‘protection’
for the end product.
And finally, I’m left with a 4 minute voice mail 3 days
later, telling me in no uncertain terms that she had put “four days of research”
into that floor, and a “lot of time and money”, and that she “expected it to be
treated with respect”. (Apparently it’s her preference to respect floors, not
people.)
It’s not that I resent the loss of the dishwasher so much as
her insistence that I would absolutely concede to her every demand without a
whimper. I’m too stubborn – if you tell me not to, I immediately want to. If
you tell me I can’t, I will almost certainly ask you why not. And if you are a
close-minded bureaucratic bitch, insisting that your way is the only way…
In a contest for Most Annoying Person to Live Over, Jar-Jar
Binks takes a backseat to this woman.
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