Power Tools are a Girl's Best Friend

Got about two thirds of the floor down tonight. Hope to finish it either tomorrow night or Weds. night -- depending on how sore I am tomorrow. We just barely have 90 square feet of the stuff left over after doing the rest of the house -- and the room is just barely smaller than 90 square feet (9 x 10 room, with one corner cut off).

K. helped get the first couple of rows down (he cut the wood around the floor vent), but if he'd kept "helping" me, I woulda had to kill 'im. (Just kidding, hon.) The basic problem is that we are both quite competent craftspeople, but have different working styles. And I have, in fact, put down MOST of the flooring in the house. I got quite peeved with him when he "helped" me and Dad put the flooring down in our bedroom -- he whined, stalled, and otherwise made a nuisance of himself -- so when his back started bothering him so much that he couldn't continue, it was a relief. And I told him I'd be happier doing the job by myself when I put down the flooring in the other two bedrooms and hallway.

I think it's the complaining that bothers me most. My knees and back hurt too, dammit, but you don't hear ME whining about it -- at least not until I'm done with the job for the day. Then I'll complain about how my #@!! body is falling apart on me. (Speaking of which, I guess I should go take some aspirin so I don't feel like cr*p in the morning.)

So it gets a bit irksome when he starts telling me how to install flooring ("Put the staples closer together!"). I made strong hints, about two rows into this evening's work, that his knees weren't up to the task and he really ought to leave me to get on with the job, thankyouveddymuch. I can tolerate his help on some of the details, but really, I'd prefer to do this on my own. Besides, there's only one stapler.