Let's get you up to speed. The quicker we get this out of the way, the faster we can get back to stories about wind-whipped dumps in granaries, abandoned and otherwise. First, the house. The end remains in sight on the remodel. Carpet remains in only one bedroom, the one that serves as my office. The carpet has been ripped out of the basement, save for the stairs, and plywood has been laid down in the kitchen in preparation for the floor tile.

The basement ceiling is coming along. The contractor had it up Monday, taped and mudded Tuesday (there was a bit of drama as a result, which I will get to later), and was supposed to put the final coat of mud on yesterday and sand today, but the cool conditions in the basement prevented the first layer from drying sufficiently. So I gave him the OK to flip on all of the lights, set up a fan, and turn my heat back on. He'll finish the second coat today and sand it Tuesday.

Time is now running out, but if I had known how relatively inexpensive it was to have drywall work done, I would have ripped out the paneling in the basement a long time ago and had him do both the walls and ceilings. And I wouldn't have to do nearly as much prep work for the walls. Since the original basement ceiling was suspended panels, a lot of the electrical wiring, cable and phone lines, etc ran under the joists instead of through them or through the walls. I spent the equivalent of 2 or 3 days cutting small notches in the joists, moving the wiring into the notches or rerouting it through the walls, rewiring everything, covering the notches with nail plates (metal plates so one of the drywall guys wouldn't accidentally put a screw through an electrical wire and fill his britches with burned curry). Then there was hurrying to finish installing the downdraft vent in the kitchen island (I had to run duct work down from the cooktop, between the joists, and out to an end cap outside of the house), wiring in the 220v for the cooktop, and the 110v for the downdraft fan.

The worst though, was the tedious process of framing in the windows, any duct work hanging down below the joists, and in one room, just tacking 2x4s and 2x3s underneath the joists because there was just too damn much plumbing and other miscellanea to move in a reasonable amount of time. It was during this process that while drilling a screw into a 2x3, I hit a knot, the drill slipped and due to my ill-advised stance, it stabbed me in a finger on my left hand, deftly removing a chunk of fingernail from the base of my nail bed. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back and shook my hand up and down a couple of times. Unfortunately I didn't realize how badly I was bleeding, and this sent an arterial-like spray of blood up into the ceiling, and onto my shirt and face. I didn't care -- it hurt like a MOTHERFUCKER! My finger was throbbing, and the pain was that distinct kind, alternatingly excruciatingly sharp and bone-jarringly dull, yet deep, that made you see stars, get tunnel vision, and go right to the brink of passing out. I ran upstairs, crying out in pain, to rinse, wash, disinfect, and bandage the finger. Ang, of course, knew something was horribly wrong, and when I came out of the bathroom, she saw the spray of blood on my face and shirt. Even though I was in so much pain I thought I was going to vomit, I managed to spit out a truthful, "It's not as bad as it looks!" and collapsed on the couch choking back tears. She is not the panicky sort, but I felt I had to say something so she wouldn't think I'd cut off a finger with a saw or something.

As for the aforementioned drama with the drywall work. I am going to put that in a separate post, as this one is long enough.