After more than a year of my office floor slowly falling apart like a giant puzzle board, I finally decided to just pull up the rest of the pieces and replace it with brand new laminate flooring.

In retrospect, a nice little throw rug would’ve been fine there.

And while I was at it, I decided to also pull up the flooring in the upstairs cat room so I could diagnose the issue with my sloping floor. Because I’m certain I have the skillset necessary to do that…

See those nice wood floors?

Yeah, they’re not real.

And those boxes are designed to keep the stray cat litter contained to that side of the room. They are completely ineffective.

Since my fear that my entire house is on the verge of collapse, I decided to start in the upstairs cat room. Moved the chair and television out and knelt down in that far corner. And began peeling.

And almost immediately…

Ok, but why.

Pulled some more.

No. Seriously. Just…why. Why would you hide real hardwood floors with…fake hardwood floors painted onto paper? I don’t…just why.

But ok. Cool. I clearly can’t diagnose anything this way. And I’m absolutely not going to just go ripping actual hardwood floors up. We’ll just leave that to an expert.

Abandoned that project halfway.

Made my way on downstairs to the office.

And began moving furniture out so I could get to work.

What happened here is that the bookshelf is too tall for the entryway. So I had to tilt it to get it through. But…ok, so this is how my brain works. Sees books on bookshelf. Registers lack of backing to bookshelf. Acknowledges that gravity is real. Says fuck it and gives it a go anyway. Yells obscenities in shock when the inevitable happens as though it couldn’t have possibly been predicted.

Moved all the books on the floor out of my way. Finished moving the bookshelf out.

Grabbed my shovel. And pulled up a few pieces of flooring where the floor had already begun to give up on life.

And almost immediately.

Disbelief.

And rage.

Because, y’all.

That is adhesive underlay. Stuck to HARDWOOD floors.

Seriously. Absolutely just why.

WHY would you lay bullshit parquet flooring on top of legitimate HARDWOOD floors. And use FUCKING ADHESIVE UNDERLAY to do it???

I’m gonna need a beer for this.

Once reaching a sufficient IPA calm, I went about just rage-shoveling up the rest of the bullshit.

Just choas and anger.

Which…it’s my home office so…yeah. Appropriate.

And that underlay still sticking to the floor? Just holding onto all the dust and dirt and human ashes it can for dear life.

I’ve been living in far more filth than I realized.

And the smell coming up off that floor was some mix of carpet fresh (which…why. Why are we using carpet fresh on uncarpeted floors…) and little old lady.

So now, having released the spirit of some ancient elder, I began peeling the excess underlay up with a putty knife.

And desperately trying to sweep up the dirt and ancestral ashes.

Which is when I realized that I had this whole other problem over here.

Because that wall-sized bookshelf my dad made me? Yeah, I’m not moving that. We’ve been through some things and I have no interest in testing the bounds of our relationship.

And those pieces are not just gonna break off. And a saw has been ineffective. And somewhat hazardous. So they’re not going anywhere.

So I have a choice.

I can try just laying the laminate flooring I’ve already purchased right up to those pieces and then hoping I can disguise them with some quarter-round.

Or I can just accept my home as is and live like this.

Because those polka dots are not going anywhere without some major industrial equipment.

But they’re probably in, right? Polka dots? They’re cool, right?

I mean, that would leave this additional issue…

But honestly, I’m no longer sure I care anymore.

I mean, it’s just gonna collapse from the undiagnosed upstairs flooring issue, right?

Right now what’s important is that I go sage my house. Again. To rid myself of the spirits I released during this unfortunate flooring project.