[This story happened in the past, like most true stories do]
As new home owners, we are owners of home newifying projects. Our small entryway has a hardwood floor. It’s called hardwood because it’s hard to refinish yourself. Nevertheless, as a converted card-carrying library patron, Robin brought home the do-it-yurselfer VHS from the library. “That’s easy!” Well, we rented this hummer sander (vacuum cleaner-style dealie) and several hours and ounces of sawdust later found the floor pretty well stripped down to “natural” wood again. Hands and knees sandpaper action got the edges, corners, and wrists.
Step number next? The wood filler (Mincrap Woodfiller Especial). Robin started application numero uno one night after Talmage went down. Whoa, that’s some potent stuff. The fumes from this product are outrageous. We had fortunately turned off the heat/ventilation systems and shut Talmage’s door, blocking the seam with a towel. The rest of the doors in the house were unwittingly left open... Robin applied filler to about 5 square feet before calling it quits due to either her own respiration warning system or my incessant barking about how strong the fumes were.
Bedtime. I couldn’t sleep. I tried counting brain cells that I knew were dying with each breath, but that did no good. We were both completely under the covers, breathing through our pillows. Mind you this is after we’d left the front door and a large window open for ventilation (and yes, verified that Talmage’s room was still uncorrupted). So, January, the house is very cold inside now. How grateful I was that I’d picked up a space heater for Little T’s room just two days previous.
In times of desperation, we often jump on the first solution that pops into our brains, however uncalculated it is. I did. I flew out of bed to the closet, grabbed my mummy bag + foam pad and before taking another breath was out on the deck doing the “get-the-bag-open” dance in the freezing midnight moonlight. Done. Ah, warmth and fresh, clean air. Then of course conscience strikes… I’d totally ditched my wife. Just about then, the door opened and … [I become fuzzy on the details here –the fumes you know]
She reasoned, “Briton, shouldn’t we go sleep in Talmage’s room. Cause if we can’t sleep in there, then he shouldn’t be sleeping in there either.” She’s brilliant. So, we quickly slipped into his room with sleeping bags and crashed on the floor, and the three of us slept like babies.
The next day, Robin left early with Talmage to a friends house and a day full of activities away from the house. I got to work early and stayed late. That evening the fumes hadn't really improved. The cold, stagnant air of the day had done very little to usher the odor out. Our friends, the Wildes, graciously opened their home to us where we enjoyed a peaceful night's rest.
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