And it Came From the Basement. Part II.

If you remember from the last post (if you didn't read it, scroll down and read it first). I had just torn a big hole in my house.

After breaking out the door frame, there was some drywall to do. First time for that, but I have to admit, I was awesome at it.

After drywall, we paid a dude to put in the floors. Hickory, it turns out. I'm glad we didn't do this ourselves because the installer discovered that our walls aren't straight. Dodged a bullet there.
I'm good. But I'm not this good.
Look at the bottom right.

And this guy had a laser. How am I going to compete with that?

Laser envy. (That was a Toy Story joke. See, it was a double entendre. I'll explain it to you some other time.)

So what you're thinking is, floors are in, drywall's replaced, all you need is a coat of paint and some baseboards and moulding, and you're golden.


That's what I was thinking, too. In fact, though, those dumb things took as long as the big stuff. I won't bore you with the details, but there are a lot of little spots that don't get painted. And all kinds of measuring to do with the moulding, and several trips to other states for work, and filling in gaps, and blah, blah, blah.

I'm not a detail oriented person, and this part killed me.

BUT DUDE, CHECK IT OUT.

It's not completely finished yet. We're going to install a bookcase in the left-hand side of what used to be the closet. Something dark and stained and pretentious looking. It's not my dream library with the ladder on wheels yet, but you start somewhere.

Raymond Chandler hardbacks would make great basement warming gifts. They have to look good on a shelf, though. You think I was going to read them? C'mon.

Also flat screen TVs.