The new garage is getting closer to being done. This afternoon, one of the folks who were working on the floor knocked on the back door. Or, rather, what had been the back door before it became the door from the living room into a sort of back entry/mudroom/whatever.
He told me he was looking for the boss. My wife wasn't home at the time, and wouldn't be for a few hours: and he needed her 'okay' before he'd start sealing the floor. Not mine. Hers.
He told me how to show the floor as it would look after sealant and wax went on: essentially, spill water on it and mop it around. I said something like 'got it,' then he asked me for some paper. He wrote down his phone number: and instructions for how to show the floor as it would look after sealant and wax went on.
Several years ago, a technician who'd been called in by my wife wouldn't ask her any questions. The three of us were in the same room, I'd told him that I didn't know anything about the issue at hand - and he'd ask me a question, I'd tell my wife what he'd said, she'd tell me, and I'd tell him. At least this time my wife wasn't there. And I've done enough customer service to know that not everybody's able to hold a detailed message in memory.
The floor is concrete, now acid-washed, and quite ready for sealing. I hope that the rich mottled-brown color looks the way it did this afternoon. That's one attractive floor treatment.
Apart from that, my son's well-settled into his office, we've got wire cages around the garage's fluorescent tubes, and the pass-through from the office to the living room is cut, with doors/hatches in place.
My wife's been very patient, waiting to get her garage/workshop. I'm glad it's almost entirely done.
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