It's just me, right? I need glasses, I bet.
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15 comments:
I'm confused, all I see is the workperson installing the floorboards.
Do I need new glasses too?
I've looked three times. I do wear glasses, though, so maybe that explains why whatever it is you're seeing, I'm not.
Yes you are totally correct; there is a human being installing the last of the floorboards.
It is oddly passive sentence.
I also find it really annoying when people say things like "I did the floors in my house." or "I painted my living room" when they actually hired someone to do it. I always wonder if they take credit for others work at work as well.
RON O I just got a crush on you! My man and I have actually done all the work on our homes, and our hair, toenails and wisdom teeth curl when some dapper suburbanite cheerfully talks about the improvements THEY made to their homes; meaning they stood with coffee steaming, wearing trendy shoes and mall clothes, and talked loudly on the phone about how lazy the Mexicans are, can't they get the tile right, why don't they speak English, where, where, where shall we go for lunch?
Thank you, Ron O, for allowing me to co-vent. Whew!
As for the picture, well, my first thought was, wow, didn't Mr. Dooce notice that she was carefully photographing the hot worker dude and blurring out the floor? Did she lick his sweaty neck afterward? Enquiring minds wish to know!
{blush} I live in an 84 year old bungalow, so I hear ya. Though I've hired professionals to do some things I cannot do well.
Maybe Mr. Dooce thought he was hot too. The guy does hae nice arms.
some dapper suburbanite cheerfully talks about the improvements THEY made to their homes
To be fair, Dooce isn't that type--she and her husband removed multiple layers of linoleum in the kitchen of their first house to refinish the original pine floor underneath, and she did it while eight months pregnant. I can't and don't fault her work ethic with regards to home improvement.
I do wonder how you could look at that picture and think the floor is the focal point. I also think about the last thing I'd need if I were down there doing that backbreaking work myself is some blogger photographing me in the middle of it all.
It's true, Dooce is not to be criticized on the DIY count; they have paid their dues. I wasn't really even thinking of her, I was really thinking about a particular client for whom I am making curtains who fits the description I mentioned above so accurately that it's frightening. She also feels that she's doing locals some big sort of favor by hiring them to do work at low wages. Grrr. But that's another subject for another time....
My man and I have actually done all the work on our homes, and our hair, toenails and wisdom teeth curl when some dapper suburbanite cheerfully talks about the improvements THEY made to their homes
Is this where I post the link to this photo of me making improvements to our house?
Yessir! This is the place. Very manly looking, too, so extra points on your score card.
See, this is how screwed up I am. I didn't even see the guy in the picture. I just saw the foreground and what looked suspiciously like that Baby-Ruth-in-the-pool Caddyshack moment.
Then I read the comments, saw the guy, and thought: Yeah. Caddyshack moment way more interesting.
Oh I got it. It was the offending laminate wood floors. That's the problem.
Laminate wood floors scare me.
Am I the only person whose first thought was that Ilyka wass posting about the 1980s band?
Andrew: I thought the same thing! Seriously. For me, it was the late 70's/early 80's and MTV had not yet made the leap into the musical landscape. Driving across Texas with a ragtag bunch of musicians, we would stop at lonely gas stations along the way and constantly hear: "Hey! Are ya'll inna bany-und?"
"Have you heard of Foreigner?" [Because at this point, no one knew what any of them looked like.]
"YEAH!!"
"Well, we're not them."
[drive off leaving sparks and dust]
What does this have to do with Dooce's floors, you ask?
Nothing. Not. A. Thing.
Heh.
Also? Because of Dooce, I still spend too much of my lunch hour surfing the fucking Internets.
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