April 22, 2009

• It’s not going so well with the concrete floor.  We put the first coat of stain on last night, rather I went before him with a mop to wet the floor and came behind me with the stain.  The instructions said to use the lighter color first. 

  I diluted the darker color that was going on top when I remembered the sealant turns everything a shade darker.  I applied it over the first color in a spot under where the island will be.  Then I spent an hour trying to find the place that sells the sealant.  I HATE Vancouver.  It’s in Washington, about a half hour away but it took me an hour because the guy gave me screwy directions. 

  When I covered the experimental patch with the sealer it was dark all right.  I think it’s too dark.  I’m not sure what to do at this point.  “Coffee ” is the most attractive color in the family that works.  It’s really going to be dark in the bathroom where the floor guy must have not pressed the excess stain out enough before he took that first swipe by the sauna.  He got way too much stain on the floor and it’s considerably darker.  The whole bathroom is too dark. 

  The bathroom adjoins the kitchen which I was told is not up to code now.  I love it though. Anyway, the whole process is getting to me.  I’m ready for it to be over.  The appliances are being delivered Thursday so we have to get the floor sealed by tomorrow.  All this work and it’s too dark. 

  To get out of the house while the test patch of sealant dried, I went to a neighborhood bar.  There’s a good restaurant next door so I was going to have a quick Jack and Coke and go eat.  But a handsome guy my age sat down next to me.

  Right away I could tell something was off, like he wasn’t quite right in the head.  When someone’s that good-looking and they are so pulled-in is the only way I can describe it, something different is going on.  Like he was oblivious to people’s reactions yet he listened.  What were compelling were his eyes.  You could see God in them.  I kept looking for some sign of intelligence because of it but he just wasn’t fully functional. 

  He was so sweet, though, talking about his dog out in the truck.  He has a chocolate lab and it was the dog’s birthday.  I had mine with me, too, so she wouldn’t smell the fumes.  You could tell how close he is with his family.  He is taking turns with his five siblings, nursing their mother through her last six months. 

  We have all the same haunts in common.  He fishes on the river I like to walk my dog at.  He keeps his boat and trailer with a friend, a couple blocks from our beach house.  He told me about a secret lake on the upper Clackamas where I camp every summer.  He even goes to the same blues festival at the beach every August. 

  I kept looking at his eyes, wondering what happened to his brain; where were the ideas?  He was in great shape, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink that much, has a job he enjoys, close family.  You could get lost in his eyes, they were burning so bright.  I’m used to seeing that with people who are really passionate about their work or whose brains are working overtime. 

  But he seems to just gets by.  There has to be some sort of disconnect.  Three times he told me this last year of his life was like a country song.  Then he’d laugh really hard, like he’d been clever.  I just wanted to hug him.  But I went to dinner instead.

  • 12:27 am
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