I have nothing to complain about, but my poor husband might. I led cheer as he laid tiles. I did get my chance to participate, scrubbing cement and grout for two days, and I have the bruised knees to prove it.
Have you ever gone to major expense just to hate something for years? We still maintain a US address in the form of an apartment in Washington state. 17 years ago it needed updating on a shoestring and we covered the floor with a pinkish/grayish industrial carpet found on clearance. Made from recycled plastic bottles it was so sturdy that you supposedly could use bleach to clean it. So practical, we thought, since we'd be using it as a vacation rental mortgage helper.
That carpet was a disaster from day one. How to describe the feeling on your bare feet? Dirty, sticky like velcro, and soapy come to mind. Anything, including water, and we have plenty of that being tracked in from our Pac NW cloud cover, left a dark grey stain. How short pile carpet could mat to such an extent is beyond me.
After visiting one of those four million dollars parade of homes houses in Florida, I had a scathingly brilliant idea (always loved that term from the Parent Trap). A quest was born to find indestructible Italian porcelain tiles for the kitchen and hallways, that looked like hardwood, at an affordable price. Sacrificing ideal colour for price we found them on sale for $1.97 a square ft at Seattle's Tiles for Less. Although we're experienced tile setters, we didn't figure into the cost, a full week of 12 hour days of sweat equity in 90 degree weather, all due to a crumbling sub-floor. Once again, thank goodness for the support of good friends.
This is getting to be the kind of woe is me long story that I'm not fond of. Here are some before and after shots, baseboard moulding still to come:
And here are the project mascots, banished to the outside. Blogless Marsha's Riley the Airedale and our Gracee:
Life's a Stitch 
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