Once upon a time there was a woman who lived in a shoe. A decrepit old shoe that needed lots of work to rescue it from a century of bad taste and neglect.

She and her husband did many home improvement projects and fancied themselves quite handy.

One weekend they decided to finally tackle installing the tile floor in their sun room. Tile that had been special ordered two years ago and had sat in it’s boxes, getting dusty from other various improvement projects that pushed it to the background.

The husband took a Friday off of work and they set about working on the project. First they installed the new subfloor. they stepped back and admired their handiwork. And it was good.

Then they set about putting in the tile. Surely the gods were smiling down upon them because the room is such a size that there was no tile cutting required except around the heating vents. They smiled at this, because no cutting is good. Very, very good.

They worked as a team, this husband and wife. He would carry the heavy boxes of tile into the room and cut them open. He would spread the thinset out across the floor with his trowel and she would set the tiles on it behind him.

She would stand back and command the husband, in the nicest possible voice, “move the tile to the right, no to the left, my left for crying out loud… a little more, turn it slightly clockwise.” And the husband did this with minimal audible sighing. And it was good.

Then they approached the end of the project. They were tired and looking forward to having the project done.

The wife commanded the husband to go fetch the last box of tile. There were only four more tile needed for it to be completed.

The husband returned. “Oh, wife of mine, there is no more tile.”

The wife got up and stormed out of the room, “Why must I do everything. Of course there is more tile. Did you even look?”

The husband replied, “Yes, I did look, my wife. And there is no more tile.”

The wife yells, “I know there is more tile. I ordered it myself. I would have ordered more than enough tile. I know how to do simple math.”

The husband said, “Yes wife, I am glad that you remember who placed this tile order. I feel that will be important information in the next few minutes.”

The wife looked for the tile. And she looked some more. And she used words that caused her husband to blush and her children to cover their ears. Still she did not find anymore tile.

The husband said, “I do not think math is your strong point.”

The wife shot daggers out of her eyes and killed him.

But then she revived him when she found out that the tile had been discontinued and she needs him to make a built in bookcase in the roughly 5 foot long area to hide the fact that there is no tile on the floor.

The wife imagines the next owners of the house moving in and deciding to tear out that odd bookcase. And that thought makes her laugh.

And it is good.

The End.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 13th, 2008 at 7:42 pm and is filed under DIY. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.