I’ve got one day of being up to my knuckles in joint compound left before the main living space in the Station is done. (That will bring the total number of days devoted to texturing up to 2.5, but it’s hard to squeeze those hours in between work, contractors class, and designing a donkey shelter.)
Which means we’re about ready to move on to installing the wood ceiling. After days of sending MysteryMan to obscure paint stores in hopes of finding the perfect stain, the man shocked me by looking me dead in the face and telling me he’d made a decision and we were using Early American Minwax finish. (This was followed quickly by me checking the weather report on my iPhone to see if hell had indeed frozen over. As it’s currently 7 degrees here, the jury is still out.)
The color is exactly what we’re looking for.
MysteryMan set up a sweat shop in the basement and enlisted my badass hatchet wielding mother for some help.
She does this thing where she comes over in her civilian clothes and manages to do jobs that would leave me covered in grime without getting so much as a speck of dust on herself. Whatever that gene is, I didn’t get it.
In the meantime, to check the stain up against the floor color, I did another thing that would indicate the coming of the apocalypse and picked up a mop with the intention of cleaning something. It was a red-letter weekend at Memorial, people.
For whatever reason we never put down contractors paper when the really big mess started happening in here, so one mopping– while fulfilling my yearly quota– is not going to cut it when it comes to getting the floor spic and span. Looks pretty when wet though.
Expect this place to be thoroughly transformed in the next two weeks.