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If you’re reading this then I must have been a success of some sort when it comes to redoing our living room floor.

In point of fact, I was very successful in terms of the kind of quality you would expect out of the untrained so in relation the bar was pretty low. More than likely I will not be changing professions.

I realize you may not have asked for this (or maybe you have either by a legitimate urge to see how things came out or find out what I damaged) but I’m going to tell you the story of this project, that in due course will include a new and shiny floor, holding up in the dining room and passing kitty litter through a bedroom window.

Bet I have your attention now don’t I.

We’ll start somewhere at the beginning and I will relate to you how tearing up the floor went, but more importantly, how I spent my time living in the dining room, while Janeen held up in the bedroom with two very unhelpful roommates.

First, as I rightly predicted in the previous column, there was little drama in tearing up the flooring. The carpet and foam came up pretty quickly and while time consuming, the nails and staples followed suit. After the first day I was feeling good and as furniture was moved and a drum sander rented, I really started to understand the allure of this kind of work.

Don’t worry, that won’t last.

For the most part, sanding went by with no real hooks as well. It took a bit to understand the operation of said drum sander, but once I did, everything worked out pretty well. It was all going — so good.

We’re choosing at this point to ignore how I put the drum of the sander down like dropping a brick and how the first couple passes were treated more like the Indy 500 rather than slow and steady like I should have.

Lessons learned with no really harm committed that couldn’t be fixed or properly hidden by furniture.

Then I put the first coat down and started to understand a new level of patience. Janeen, as I’ve said, was holding up in the bedroom with two very annoying roommates. They had access to the bathroom and the upstairs, while I owned the kitchen and outside.

Best of all, I owned the sectional that was now split up into two pieces and arranged as such to create my own little fort. It was cozy as I sidled up into the main rampart, and with the computer on my stomach, settled in for the long wait that was complete with a fair amount of napping.

Aside from the smell of polyurethane it wasn’t too bad, but after awhile it began to become somewhat claustrophobic and despite the windows throughout the house being thrown open, the smell was becoming annoying. With no real room to cook, that form of entertainment was taken away as well.

The next day, after some more monotonous sanding by palm sander, the second coat went on and I spoke for everybody in the house when I said that we were getting close to being done — with everything. Well, that’s not right. We were done.

We again broke to our respective homes within a home and started to realize some problems and guess who they involved? We got everybody locked up only to realize that the cats had no access to the litter box, which resulted in the rather fun spectacle — I imagine — the neighbors witnessed of me passing a litterbox through a window. I could only wonder as to what they were thinking. I’m hoping they would surmise we had cats, but maybe they were just too caught up in watching the circus to really know what was going on.

Then, much later down the line, it came to food time. By this point both Buster and Nemi had really had enough of not being able to help with this project, especially Buster who had dreams of interjecting is form of experience into the project.

As the legend will be told, Buster was upset because he could hear me, but couldn’t come out and he let everybody know how unfair it all was by crying and simultaneously picking on Nemi. Nemi, having none of this, voiced her anger at just about everything for the entire world to hear while hiding under the bed.

When it came to dinner time, Buster made his move. Now, it should be said that the floor was not quite dry and so should have had no living creature walking on it. Of course did that stop Buster? No, no it did not and as soon as Janeen tried to return with his food, he bolted.

He trotted over to me, tail in the air, only to realize about halfway that the floor was not only different, but it was sticky for some reason and that he didn’t like it.

Of course he had to go back because he was eating in the bedroom, which left me to check for little kitty prints in the varnish as well as try to clean his paws off which we were able to do.

Luckily, no kitty prints, but by this point I had abandoned all ideas of a third coat. We were all done with the process and very ready to move things back.

Am I happy with the results? Yes, but try not to look too closely if you should visit.

And no, those two spots are not spilled water.