We had new flooring put into the bathroom today so now the entire house smells like vinyl and I keep getting flashbacks to black, pleather mini-skirts and rubbery, black boots. Yeah, it sort of smells like a raincoat in here. I’m not going to complain too loudly though because we’ve been without real flooring for almost a year now and even with the odor it’s still a big improvement. The real problem is that the new floor really dates the mauve and blue wall paper, the pink lacy curtains (in the closet area) and even the cabinetry.
It feels a little off kilter in the bathroom now because the new floor murkies the retro charm and appeal it once had. I use the word “appeal” very loosely in reference to any of the interior decorating we’ve got going on in this place, but you know what I mean. It’s just not as pure as it once was now that things have been moderately updated. This might just be a sign that the 80’s are finally on their way out. Or, that everything we fix or change will just create 5 or 6 more much needed improvements that require our attention and must be fixed or changed. I mean, you can’t paint one wall unless you want the wall next to it to look miserable and dirty. Only time will tell what happens next, but I am pretty sure our dealings with this bathroom are far from over.
I am getting ready to attend the Toxic People seminar (countdown to 2 days) and I am pretty excited because I get to go mingle with adults and eat an entire lunch without someone sharing it, slobbering on it, or pouring it directly into my lap. I know most people have higher standards for this level of excitement, but I am not exactly average in the high standards department. I mean, I have pretty low standards for having fun. I guess that happens when you have a child and really learn what is important in life. It’s not fancy cars, fancy clothes, or fancy friends. What is really important is sleeping, eating, brushing your teeth and sleeping. I can’t blame my low standards completely on Tiny-Small because I guess I had them even before she came along. At least, according to my husband I did. I mean he says marrying him is pretty much proof that I will take what I can get. This was our conversation in the car the other day:
Jim: I really wish I didn’t give up that military life insurance I had. My mom told me not to, but I stopped paying it anyway.
Me: Hmmm? Oh. Insurance makes me tired.
Jim: I just never thought I would get married or have a kid.
Me: You mean because you were so young and all of that seemed so far away?
Jim: No, I just never thought I’d convince anyone to marry me. I’m not exactly marriage material.
Me: I married you.
Me: Are you saying I have bad taste?
Jim: <long, long pause> No, but maybe.
Me: Yeah, I probably do.
Then there was a lot of eye rolling and stupid giggling. I’m pretty sure he was saying I have low standards and bad taste. I guess that conversation is proof that I can have fun doing absolutely nothing and also while getting insulted. I’m pretty sure that was an insult, but mostly on him so what do I care? He’s stuck with me now low standards and all. Tiny-Small likes him too so I guess bad taste runs in the family.
Anyway, I just remembered I was supposed to be writing about my new floor (the glue and vinyl are no doubt affecting my mental acuity. Either that or I am just plain tired as usual). The thing is, I still have to install the toilet. Our handyman came over right before he went on a two week vacation and taught me how to do it. I’m still a little nervous about it though. I am going to tackle it tomorrow. It doesn’t seem that hard to do, but it’s also not the kind of process that tolerates mistakes well. I keep imagining the toilet leaking through the ceiling, pouring nasty rain into the hallway and then, just like that the toilet falls through the ceiling and lands on the first floor crushing Elmo and Tiny-Smalls collection of water bottles that she “borrowed” from the recycling cabinet. I will somehow get up the courage to complete this project, but until then it is going to be another long night (just like the last five nights) of going all the way downstairs to use the restroom in the middle of the night and then climbing the stairs again to return to bed. Yeah, I know, there are a lot of people in the world that don’t even have indoor plumbing so I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m not really complaining though, I am just procrastinating. There is a difference. Plus, I feel a little loopy from the fumes. Vinyl, glue, rubber, and plastic. Did I just describe what my wardrobe was made out of it in the 80’s and early 90’s? Some things never change.
I’m just rambling. I hope your Thursday is more mind clearing than mine.