Crime Scene Photos

Something untoward happened to the floor in the office on the morning of Saturday, December 23, 2006, and we called the floor cop to the scene of the crime. The guilty party will remain anonymous to blog readers, so let us set the stage. A certain person has been highly particular about protecting the precious floors--and they are precious! No one can wear shoes in the house for tiny pebbles lodged in the outer sole of a shoe might scratch the floor. If Santa came down the chimney, he would be told to remove his boots and leave them on the fireplace floor. Area carpets and blankets are under every single piece of furniture or equipment. The beloved hyperactive dynamo dog no longer qualifies as a house pet and is learning how to survive the great outdoors. We all agreed we all must take these precautions to protect the floors, especially the pine upstairs.

Well . . .

The said person who shall hereafter be called I-speak-for-the-floors was working in the office, attempting to clean the tile around the fireplace and experimenting with the effects of paint thinner and . . .

You guessed it . . .

SPILLED it on the . . .

floor!

Do you know those slow motion special effects in which the character frantically tries to avoid disaster? Seeing life roll by in slow-motion, I-speak-for-the-floors exclaimed some choice words and then grabbed up the can, stripped off available clothing, and mopped furiously. The varnish on the floor boiled and bubbled and gurgled and curled up into little balls of candied gloss, little globules clinging to bare wood splotches on that section of the floor. I-speak-for-the-floors was mortified and humiliated and so berating of these actions, nobody had the heart to pile on with more accusations. Why hurl insults when the guilty party does such a capable job with self-inflicted diatribes and character assassination?

We called the floor cop, who told us other things people have done to ruin their floors: black paint, nail polish remover, floor stripper, etc. What made this accident so special is that it happened in record-time. He ended up having to re-restore the floor for a second time in two weeks!The cop was glad to pick up a little Christmas bonus and redo the office floor while we were in Florida. When we arrived home, the only tell-tale signs of the crime were painful memories and tape covering the door reminding us not to walk on the floor while it cures on penalty of death.

This blog writer refuses to reveal the name of the guilty party. Is it Tammy, the anti-Martha Stewart? Steve, or Whirlwind, as his in-laws have dubbed him? David the bumbling Boy Wonder (who suffers from teenager clumsiness) or Pamela the Stealth Child (who earned that name at the age of eighteen months by being able to quietly crawl up to Daddy's computer and press the red reset button). Maybe it was Tammy's father, the Paduan Carpenter, who used to hang all our pencil sharpeners backwards. Or could it be Da Boyz, Tammy's brother and sidekick? This blog writers lips are sealed. He, er . . . she, uh . . . they, whatever!--will never tell.

Today we did not do much! Our plans to prevent New Year's Day headache syndrome by avoiding adult beverages and going to bed early backfired. We all picked up plenty of germs in Orlando and felt tired and ill all day. Steve helped Tammy's father put together the newly restored, but unfinished fireplace in the office. He did some handyman work, but a persistent daylong case of hiccups wiped him out. Tammy managed to clean the most of the stove and cycle through four loads of laundry. David washed more walls!

Here is a sneak peek of the replacement for the cracked board of the fireplace!