Today would be a good day to become a criminal.

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I have no fingerprints.

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This is the progress that has been made in our new laundry room. It is slow progress, but hey, at least we are moving forward. Before Saturday morning, the floor was cement backer board – listen to me, I sound like I know what I am talking about. I could stop right there and allow you to think I know what I am talking about, but no, I am my mother’s daughter and my mouth/typing is on auto-pilot.

*****

Saturday morning. It was a beautiful beginning to a great day. We began by driving in the cold rain to a cafe downtown in small town USA, to experience what had been described as dinner plate-sized pancakes. They were. And they were GOOOOOOOOOD. I mean IT was good. One was plenty.

After visiting with George and Lloyd, two new acquaintances who are members of the Full Bladder Club – honest to goodness, it’s a real club that meets every morning from 8-9 am – we came home to tackle the laundry room floor project.

We worked for part of the day until we ran out of walking space around the beautiful art we had just created on the floor. We were both so proud and were very pleased with how it was turning out.

Fast forward, past Saturday evening tournament games and hot dogs and more steady rainfall – it was glorious. Pancakes and rain, hotdogs and rain. A little work in between, and we were pleased with our efforts and our beautiful new tile floor.

*****

Sunday morning. We had plans to spend the day with family, attending a concert 3 1/2 hours away, and knowing we would not be able to attend church, we decided to finish the last few pieces of tile before heading out on our trip.

While Sam cut, I got dirty with the mortar.

While I was waiting, I decided it would be a GREAT idea to use the sanded mortar and fill in the small spaces – I won’t get all technical here and further your impression that I know what I am talking about. Anyway, I took the remaining goop at the bottom of the bucket and began to rub it into tiny crevices. And I rubbed, and I rubbed, and it looked pretty good, so I continued to scoop goop and rub-a-dub-dub.

I felt a little irritation and uncomfortability. Is that a word? WordPress thinks not. I felt a little PAIN, but I kept going because I was ALMOST DONE. And when the goop was gone, the tiles were in place, and the floor was GORGE GORGE GORGEOUS, I went upstairs to shower and get ready for our afternoon concert.

But as I was washing my hair, I realized I couldn’t feel my fingers.

And as I sat at the concert, my fingers throbbed with the beat of the brass.

I had rubbed my fingers raw. Stainless steel appliances would love me, all fingerprint free.

Still this evening, my left hand fingers are smooth as a baby’s bottom, albeit SORE as a baby’s bottom…

But we have a beautiful tile floor. I am not in jail. And I can still type.

So for that, I am grateful.

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