(The compressor is sitting on cardboard and there are furring strips lying next to it; Jason, the floor layer, tacks the strips alongside the last row when he stops for the night, I presume to keep the flooring joints tight.)
From a distance, the floor looks fine. Up close one sees that the boards have a lot of wood putty in them, smoothing the knots. I remind myself over and over that I couldn’t afford prime flooring, it’s better than vinyl, and no one stares at a floor. I felt a bit better when a wealthy friend told me his experience with his expensive cherry floor that was installed improperly, heaving and rippling. Even the best doesn’t always work out.
Meanwhile Nick has rebuilt the master bath shower so that it is framed as I had hoped…
… and the children’s bathtub (Americast “fake” cast iron; so much hand-wringing on this decision!) has been installed. The bathrooms are ready for tiling and I will probably get the plain white subway tile in Vermont on Sunday.
We have had days and days of cold grey skies, wind, and rain, which has meant no work outside. Finally on Wednesday the skies cleared. Here are Nick and his father, Mike, putting up soffits on the rear of the house.
Nick’s girlfriend has been painting the interior after her work. Everyone likes the Benjamin Moore Linen White — it is a warm off-white with a touch of yellow. I think it should be called Jersey Cream.
Wednesday she began painting the kitchen with Weston Flax. Typically, with the first strokes I thought, “How lovely!” and with the second and third I thought, “Oh, no! Too mustard!” I closed my mouth firmly. I have decided that the anxiety of making all the decisions on this house has fried my brain. For now at least, the kitchen will be Weston Flax.
Yesterday I was having breakfast when I got a call at 7:15 AM. A truck was at the farm with my kitchen cabinets. What? Apparently they had neglected to inform anyone of their delivery time. I called Nick and rushed to the farm. I know you will not be surprised to hear that when I saw some of the dented boxes, I worried.
Despite a forecast of rain, it was another blue morning and the men immediately started on the back roof.
In between driving Lucy to workouts and going to a financial meeting, I spent most of the day mowing and weedwhacking. As always it was soothing to impose order on the shaggy landscape.
Clouds rolled in but the rain held off. When I stopped to refill the mower with gas or move the sheep, I would glance up at the men on the rooftop.
It is hard to explain my feeling: this must be magic! So many hours over so many years —mowing, picking rocks, dreaming of a house someday… and there it is!
By the end of the day the last piece of roofing was going up.
The rain began to fall at suppertime.