If there is one thing in the world I am not it is being a procrastinator.
There is one exception: waxing the wood floors in my house. You see, I have three dogs. Well, actually two-one died recently, but I still count him as part of our family. No, no. Don’t feel bad. I can do that for the both of us.
As you can imagine, three dogs brings not only a lot of dog hair, but a lot of dirty paws, claw marks and drool spots. If it weren’t for them, I would probably only have to wax my wood floors two or three times a year. Instead, I need to wax them about once a month.
The main floor of my home has the original narrow slat wood floors built back in 1921. We were informed when we bought the house that refinishing the floor was not possible because the wood was too old and thin. This is evident whenever I pick up small thin pieces of wood when I’m dust mopping. My floor is slowly coming apart splinter by splinter.
The only recourse I have at the moment is to wax it religiously to try to keep it together as my dogs unintentionally dismantle my hard work claw mark by claw mark.
So, why do I, the Princess of Promptness, become a procrastinator when it comes to waxing my floors? Because it sucks the life out of me, that’s why. It’s a several step process. First, I have to vacuum (without using the brush roller) to get rid of all the dog hair and dirt. This is done in the basement, main floor, stairs and upper floor. This step takes about 45 minutes. Then the waxing starts on the main floor. Once the waxing is completed on the main floor I have to let it sit for about 30 minutes without having anyone, including the dogs, walk over it.
What do I do with three dogs during this long, arduous process? They are crated in the basement and wait patiently until I let them out. They know the drill because they hear me swearing about the vacuum cleaner cord getting stuck somewhere, or even though I’ve vacuumed the entire damn place, my right knee happens to land on a small little pebble which causes another cuss word to be extricated from my mouth.
Once the main floor is waxed and I am able to walk on it, I proceed to the stairs. This is where waxing is prohibited. Since I have become an expert on falling in my own house, I refuse to increase my risk by waxing
wooden stairs unless I want to live in traction for the rest of my life. I could tumble to my death and my husband can find me at the bottom of the stairs while the dogs are lapping up the pool of blood I’ve left behind, but I don’t want to stain the floor postmortem. Additionally, my husband wouldn’t have a clue as to how to get rid of a blood stain on an old wood floor anyway. Come to think of it, neither do I. He’d have to sell the place with a big blood stain on the floor. I don’t think that would go over very well. I’m thinking too far ahead of myself….
Let’s make one thing clear-I’m a clumsy oaf. Since I can’t even walk straight, wearing socks with rubber bottoms like a toddler just learning how to walk is not beneath me. Well technically it is, but you get my point.
The upstairs living area is all hardwood floors as well, however, the wood is newer and doesn’t require as much waxing. But, if the wax is out, I might as well do both floors because the dogs aren’t quarantined to just the main floor and the basement. As a matter of fact, they take over our bed at night which may explain why I have a strand or two of dog hair dangling from my mouth when I wake up in the morning.
The whole waxing process takes about two hours. This doesn’t include drying time (one hour for both floors). So, as I sit here typing up this blog, I’m procrastinating. I’m thinking of other things to do besides the inevitable. Polishing andirons sounds more appealing right now. What other things can I do?
- Brush the dogs’ teeth. That’s always a pleasant process. They’re all wide mouthed and smiling when there’s a cookie, but when the toothbrush comes out their mouths turn into steel traps
- Do my taxes. Ha! I think I need a gun to be put to my head for that task.
- Shovel the driveway. Nah-I mean, there’s only three inches of snow on the ground. My minimum is four inches in order to break out the shovel. I don’t dare master the use of the snow blower. All I can think of is that scene from, “Fargo.” I can work all the other equipment in the garage, but the snow blower is where I put my foot down. Thankfully, I still have both feet to do that because I’ve steered clear of the limb eating snow blower.
- I can play with the dogs.
Done. I’ll play with the dogs and they can claw up the floor, slide around to grab a toy and drop more hair strands for me to suck up with the vacuum. I’ll wax the floor tomorrow.