Saturday, March 24, 2012

Remodeling, aka "Fuck Me"

I'd apologize for the profanity, but it's just me.  Sorry. 

I want a simple thing in my home.  They're called "hardwood floors." 

I have shitty ass eczema.  Seasonal allergies.  A cat who doesn't shed much, thank god, but he sheds.  He sheds enough that when I participate in cleaning routines I find what I call "baby Darbys" all over my house.  (That means that there's enough cat hair to form a few kitten sized models of my cat, for those who are dense.)  It's not pretty.  It's not nice. 

"Carpets," someone told me recently.  "It's like a blanket that you never wash." 

And a dirty ass blanket it is.  The brilliant people who sold the condo to me decided to replace the probably awesome but probably dirty seventies carpets in my unit with ugly ass, cheapest of the cheap apartment shit gross gross yuck puke white carpets.  (I just typed "crapets" instead of carpets at first, Freudian slip or what?!)

So, as it has been for a while, it's time to put new floors in the business.

Wood.  Dark wood, but not black.  Sexy.  Sensual.  Goes with the walls, the furniture, and fits into Pinterest in a way that you would never know it was a "photo uploaded by user."  Some baseboards, probably white and tallish.  Hypo-allergenic.  Not bamboo because you know they soak that shit in formeldahyde, and we all know that would be EXCELLENT for my sensitive skin. 

Anyway.  Cost.  I have a mere 700 square feet, right?  Easy.  A grand, right?  I'm not even doing the kitchen or bathroom.  A piece of financial cake.  Dark, rich, wooden financial cake. 

So I check with the neighbors and the building manager.  "Hey, how much does it cost around here to get new wood floors in?"  I get filled in that it's actually about three grand.

Okay, cool.  I pick out my flooring.  I get recommended to a guy who can probably do it cheapish. 

Installation quote from guy who is awesome and cheapish:  Approximately two grand if I want him to take the carpets out too.  Still a lower cost than what the local companies charge me. 

So.  Materials next, right?  I go to a place who shows me all their shit.  Their shit is color coded by price.  The lowest is listed at $10 per square foot and under. 

"Hey, salesguy," I say.  "I got seven hundred square feet.  If your lowest is $10 a square foot, how much money is that?"

He tells me $7000.  I knew that, but I wanted him to know how regoddamneddiculous of a price that is for someone who only has 700 square feet.  I'm not made of money.  I can save it, but I'm not made of it.  If I were made of money, I would probably have more than 700 square feet to live in. 

He says he can get me a better price.  Never calls me back. 

But, I'm smart, I won't settle for that shit.  I get on the phone and call three places.  I get the lowest quote for the exact kind of highish quality manufactured wood that I want. 

And I still have three or so months before it's time. 

Next steps:  More time to shop around.  More time to find a good vendor that will do what they say.  And, yes, more time to save $5,000+, more than five times what I originally thought. 

Good thing that I want this shit BAD.  And it will add to the value of my house in two ways:  monetary value and value of living.  Plus I can put on socks and skate around.  Free cardio. 

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