I was numbly scrolling through job listings and happened across the kindest-sounding job page I've ever seen. Saying there was no requirements at all (besides being happy or something), that they'll walk you through everything and train you. And that they're happy to hire anyone, no matter how young or old, whether it's your first job or you want a little extra money on the side or you're retired and want something to do.

The feel of the wording was like, "Aww poor baby—here, have a blanket and a hot chocolate and I'll make everything better." While the job listings I usually see are like, "Working nights, weekends, and holidays are required. And if you don't know these five obscure things by heart and have eight years of experience, don't even bother applying."

And the place is close enough that I should be able to get there easily on rollerblades (if I can finally get use to the pair I bought awhile ago).

...But then I'd mentioned to my dad that I might apply for a job, and he reminded me that I hadn't wanted to be tied up during the day of the eclipse, and suggested I wait to see if it's still available after that.

...And then I checked my desk calendar and saw several other days I need to be free for scattered throughout the next two months.

...I'm beginning to think I'm just not cut out for working.

hey i said i was gonna get this up today!!!!

so with this chapter's conclusion i can safely say that i've officially written everything that i set out to write with mercy!  this chapter was literally a skeleton that shaped eighty percent of the entire story, so i'm glad i could finally flesh it out and put it out there!!

there's still one more chapter to go, which will be more or less an epilogue for the main story. after that, i think i'll try to get a couple of other fandom fics going (ones that are ACTUALLY nearly done, not half-ass done like mercy was when i decided to start posting lmao) and then i can set up a schedule to write some more for this universe

anyway, for now i just want you to read and enjoy.  this chapter is all about john's ptsd, and it made me sad, so i hope it makes you sad too heheh

as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, casual mentions in meatspace or idle daydreaming about different ways this chapter could go are ALL super welcome and adored. i love you guys, you've been so kind to me <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

the usual: below the cut is the full chapter text if you don't wanna go to ao3, but you should, ao3 is way easier to read on

Things around the Rye homestead have been pretty good as of late. Eight, nine months ago, Nick never would have expected to see the living room floor again, much less finish even half of the tedious repair work that he's managed to check off his list. The planters are already sprouting with what's going to be an early summer harvest, Carmina's hen-house is ready to go, and they've already bartered off some scrap for moonshine and extra ammunition for Carmina's blooming sharpshooter hobby. The house itself only creaks and groans in heavy winds, and a few additional supports outside have secured the second floor from crashing down in the middle of the night. For an old, blown-out house that's been through nuclear winter, the place is coming back together pretty well. Hell, another couple of years and they might be able to reconnect the septic system, and then they'd really be cooking.

Other people have noticed their good luck, too. Mostly friends, like Grace and Jerome, but the word's spread a bit now about the Rye's generosity, and they've gotten a few good trades out of it, although a lot of them are I-O-U's that maybe won't come to fruition. That's fine by Nick — they don't need the old fencing or the scrap plywood, and there are still two mostly-buried garages out back that could be broken down for some really prime salvage. If people want to give him free use of their future smokehouses or promise to help him find more gas for his truck, then that's more than enough payment. Anyway, that's what Nick tells people when they don't have anything to offer — it isn't like he's going to turn somebody away when they need help.

Of course, not all of their generosity is appreciated equally. John being around doesn't sit well with many of the people who come by, although it's never enough to deter them from doing business with Kim or Nick. There aren't many confrontations, even when John helps Nick load wood into a truck or remains lingering in plain view, although somebody usually has something to say about it. Unless they get really vulgar or violent, Nick usually lets them blow off steam in his and John's direction, and he doesn't take it personally when somebody takes a cheap shot at him for being such a soft-hearted bastard.

Their vitriol usually ends after a few minutes. Most of the time, John can handle it by himself, apologizing genuinely to each person who tries to curse him out. Nick hasn't heard the same regret twice, and even if John doesn't recognize every hateful face, he seems to remember his part in their trauma. It might not be what they want to hear, but John's serious, specific remorse usually puts the fire out of their fight. So far, there's only been two instances where Nick had to call Jerome out to mediate, and neither time resulted in anyone getting shot or knocked out. Sure, John might come out of an altercation with a couple of bruises, but that's usually it.

It stands to reason that something was bound to go wrong at some point. Nick's prepared for all sorts of catastrophes; he's got contingency plans for flooding, wild animals, and even ornery neighbors upset that he let John off so easy. There are a million little things that could go wrong out here, and Nick can only do so much to prepare for every eventuality, but he thinks he's got a pretty good handle on it.

That is, until the radio breaks. It's one thing that Nick hadn't even considered a possibility — they'd left the thing in its box until the apocalypse, and until they left the bunker, it'd barely seen any use at all. And yet, one day Nick tries to confirm a trade and the radio fails to catch anything more than static.

Cheap goddamn made-in-China crap, that's what it is, and that's what Nick tells everyone within earshot as he fiddles uselessly with the knobs. When he turns the radio around to get a look at the connectors, he ignores the stamped metal that reads "MADE IN GERMANY" in favor of hunting down the problem — but that's going to involve unscrewing the back and, well, Nick isn't exactly an electrician. He's not sure the best option here is to dig into the guts of his only radio willy-nilly like. He could go get the user's manual, but it's in a pile of boxes down in the bunker, and Nick really doesn't want to go rooting through trash for it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh that takes all the fight out of him, Nick grabs the flashlight and goes out back to let Kim know what's up. She and John are working in the garden, which used to be something John would avoid at all costs. Now, he doesn't even seem phased to be working in the dirt, barely acknowledging Nick's irritated venting about the broken radio as he pulls weeds. It's only when Nick mentions going into the bunker that he seems to take notice; he tries to be subtle about it, but Nick doesn't miss his head swiveling to stare briefly.

Of course, Nick is so used to John's cagey weirdness about bunkers that he barely notices, too busy

Kim looks sympathetic, but she doesn't sound it as she reminds him, "Nick, complaining to his ever-patient wife. "I'm just gonna grab the manual, maybe see if there were any spare parts in the box we missed. It's not like the thing gets used enough to break!" the radio is ten years old. Even expensive equipment can't last forever."

"If I don't get to sit down and give up whenever I want, then neither does the radio. It's not like we got any choice , here. If we don't have a working radio, we're going to have a bitch of a time reconnecting with everybody. And we've actually started to build something, you know?"

"At least you'll have a diagram to work with, I guess." Kim sighs. "John, have you... do you know where our bunker is?"

John smiles wryly. "I do," he replies.

"Oh, right," Nick sighs. "You probably know where everything is on the property, huh."

"Knew," John points out. "But yes, that was my job. I was as thorough as I could be." He chews his lip, standing after a thoughtful second. "I know where a lot of bunkers are. If you can't repair the radio... We could look for another one."

"Okay, of course you do." Nick waves for John to follow him, which he does, keeping pace as they head away from the wash, towards the opposite side of the hangar from their normal route. "What makes you think I wanna take a radio from somebody else ?"

"Not many of the structures put together out here were by any means safe ." John probably shouldn't sound so blase about it, but the guy's got a point. Doubly so when he continues, "I was suggesting we take one from someone who won't be needing it anymore."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Well, it's something to think about," he agrees reluctantly. It sounds a lot like grave-robbing to him, but John's right. It's the smartest option, and somebody's going to have to do it eventually. It might be better for everyone if it's them, and not some opportunistic drifter who won't put the resources back into the community.

That's a problem for another day. Right now, Nick leads John around thick tumbleweeds that have gotten caught in the long grass, bringing them up just short of the bunker door. Covered with about two years' worth of dirt but not yet overgrown, the white hatch is only a marginal pain in the ass to pry out of the ground. John waits for Nick to ask for help, only to realize that isn't happening anytime soon, and wordlessly assists in coaxing the rusted hinges to work.

The bunker is dark and smells like a root cellar. Nick sure hopes nothing important molded. They'll have to get down here and clean up soon, before the mildew takes hold and ruins everything.

"Okay," he says, "You just wait here and make sure that thing doesn't close on me."

Nick half-expects some kind of joke about locking him inside, but John only nods obediently, standing a few feet from the opening with his arms folded across his chest. Nick rolls his eyes but does his best to ignore John's unease as he descends into the bunker.

He decides against testing the power — even if the generator down here still has some juice in it, they haven't operated anything in a while and Nick does not want to be engulfed in flames right now. Instead, he clicks on the flashlight and wanders through the narrow space. He doesn't linger on the drawings Carmina left on the wall or the unmade cots, passing by a pile of laundry that'll never get done and heading to the small utility closet in the back.

He finds the box intact, one corner suffering water damage from what looks like a cup of water that nobody ever picked up. Deciding against rooting around for anything else that might be useful, he takes the whole box back out to the ladder, chucking it up out of the hole once he's tackled the lower rungs.

John is trying hard not to show his nerves as Nick pops back up, shoving his hands into his pockets before changing his mind and folding them again over his chest. Bunkers are a tender spot for him, and Nick knows it, so for now he decides not to make a big deal about it. John's too fragile for Nick to be teasing him, even if he refuses to admit it himself.

Pulling the box apart, Nick scavenges the manual and a couple of accessories that he hadn't needed a decade ago and probably doesn't need now. The cardboard is mostly good, so Nick breaks down the box, chucking the useless packaging back into the bunker before foisting the supplies onto John.

Nick gets up and shoves the bunker door until it falls shut on its own weight. "Well, now I gotta spend the rest of my day reading that crap," he says, gesturing to the chunky owner's manual.

"Give it to Carmina," John suggests, "She's desperate for new reading material."

"And give her the chance to become more technologically savvy than me? I'll pass."

Nick spends the next few hours troubleshooting his way through the manual, vengefully ignoring the support hotline numbers plastered on every other page. Even if the service center hadn't been annihilated in a nuclear apocalypse, fat chance Nick would ever lower himself to call.

By dinnertime, Nick is frustrated but satisfied that he knows where the trouble area is. One of two pieces has given out, both designed to be replaced occasionally. On one hand, that's a good thing — it's supposed to be done by novices, which means the manual is painfully clear on the method. On the other hand, there are only going to be so many matching radios out there, and who knows how many will have the same issue?

"It'll be okay," Kim reassures him that night. "Plenty of people get by without a radio, you know."

"That doesn't mean I wanna be one of them," Nick grouses, turning to pin his hopes selfishly on John. "You said there were bunkers around, right? And maybe one of them has a radio we can use?"

"I didn't promise anything," John clarifies, "But that would be my suspicion."

"Maybe it'd be worth it to look. Who knows, we could get lucky."

Kim doesn't look sure about Nick's optimism, but he ignores her skepticism. If nothing else, it'll be good to use John's old cult knowledge to benefit them for once, and that alone puts Nick firmly in the "in favor" group. Even if it turns out to be a waste of time — well, at least they'll have tried everything. For now, Nick can let Kim think up a contingency plan for a no-radio life — Nick is going to rest all of his hopes firmly on the repair plan and hope that it works out.

Nick wakes up last the next morning, sleeping in an extra half-hour or so before finally peeling his eyelids apart to face the sun. Even as he gets dressed, he feels groggy and slow, dragged down by a long night of forgotten stress dreams. His brain probably spent all night running through every possible outcome of bunker-hunting with John — not that it does any good now, when Nick can't remember any of it.

He isn't the only one who looks like they could use more sleep. Carmina is yawning over her breakfast, eating like a sloth as she processes being awake. The bags under Kim's eyes are darker than normal, too, but she's bright-eyed and dressed for the day.

John is the only one who looks like he's coping with the morning at all, but that's probably because he's been up for a while now. Ever since he's been given free rein, John's sleep schedule has put him as the last one to sleep and the first one to wake. Nick doesn't mind too much, though, since he usually brews up some coffee right before anyone else comes down. He's been arguing with Kim for the last few mornings about going by himself to pull water from the river for the house, but Kim is holding tight to her buddy-system, and John isn't going to convince her to give it up that easily.

From the way Kim looks at Nick as he descends the stairs, they might be arguing about it already today. "What?" Nick asks, "What'd I do?"

"It's not you," Kim says. She gestures across the table at John, who looks like he's been waiting for Nick to come to his defense. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"The radio is the same make as mine," John tells Nick, clearly expecting Nick to understand what he's talking about. Fat chance there, though, because Nick has no idea what he means. "It might not be the same model, but it's worth a try."

"Uh... which radio are you talking about, exactly?"

John tries hard to not look like he's suffering at the hands of fools. He fails, but at least he directs his exasperated look towards the ceiling at the last moment. "In my bunker," he explains slowly. "I had a radio of the same make."

"You said yourself it broke," Kim points out, clearly repeating an argument from before Nick's arrival.

"All the more reason to not worry about scrapping it," John replies. "The bunker is closer than any other structure, and it's guaranteed to be there. That is as much of a blessing as you'll get these days."

Nick wonders at first why Kim is so dead-set against going back to John's bunker. Sure, the guy refuses to talk about it, and sure, bunkers in general seem to fill him with unshakable anxiety, but it's still just a bunker. A bunker with a radio that could save their asses, where they won't be stealing from someone who might need it just as much. And hell, John doesn't even have to go inside!

Kim sighs and says gently, "I just don't know if it's... the greatest idea." She looks sideways at Nick, who knows from experience that she's holding back her opinion for John's benefit. She probably doesn't want to be the one telling him he's too fragile to handle it.

"I'm not asking for your permission," John says. "If neither of you want to come with me, I'll go by myself."

"Oh, come on," Kim huffs, "Not this again —"

"If I want to go somewhere, I have the right to do so," John exclaims. "We've established that I'm not a prisoner, and I certainly am not a child."

Carmina huffs loudly, but John pointedly ignores her.

"Okay, okay," Nick says, holding out his hands in a poor attempt to placate all parties. "Look, if you're really dead-set on this, and you really think that the radio's gonna help, well..." He sighs. "Then maybe it's worth going to check out."

Kim looks mildly offended that he's taking John's side, but Nick knows how to reassure her, at least a little. "But there are some ground rules," he says. "You can come with me, but I call the shots. No acting like you know better than me, or deciding to run off and forcing me to follow you. You get it?"

"Of course," John says.

"I mean it. If I decide it's not worth it when we get there, you're gonna have to respect that. I mean, there could be snakes living in there now. I don't even remember if I closed the hatch, it could be flooded from the rain earlier this year."

John nods, so quickly that Nick wonders if he's really listening. "Yes," he says. "That's fair."

"I can't believe this," Kim sighs, relenting at last as she rubs her forehead. "Okay. But you both need to be careful." She looks at John. "Especially you."

"I don't..." John cuts himself off, reluctantly changing tactics. "Okay. Fine." He stands up, leaving his chair wide open for Nick to take as he says, "I need to get ready," and excuses himself. What he needs to get ready for when he's already dressed, Nick has no idea, but that's not exactly Nick's problem. If John needs to go talk himself through the decision he forced on Nick, then it's a good thing he's not involving Nick in any of it!

Nick's real problem right now is the way Kim is staring at him. "What?" he asks, sinking into the abandoned seat. She doesn't respond, and Carmina glances skeptically at her dad from across the table. "What was I supposed to do?" he asks, exasperated. "It's not like he was gonna let it go."

"You could have put your foot down," Kim says. She sounds downright disappointed, and that stings more than Nick wants to admit. "You could have taken my side," she adds, aiming her heavy frown at the coffee cup in front of her.

"We've been waiting for him to want to talk about it," Nick points out. "And anyway, we need a radio. If he can help, we should encourage it. Right?"

Kim isn't keen on getting into a fight right in front of Carmina, so she only nods her head in response. It's enough, though, because Nick does wind up feeling guilty for siding with John. Right or not, he probably should have negotiated that better.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. I've got tunnel-vision with this radio problem, is all."

"I know," Kim sighs. "I just... worry."

"Well, don't. I'll be fine."

Kim rolls her eyes. "It isn't you I'm worried about, Nick." She looks towards the stairs, listening to John pacing up in his room, then reluctantly turns back to her husband. "Just... promise me that you'll keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Nick replies. Kim doesn't look too reassured, so Nick reaches over and wraps her hand in his. "Really, I will." He glances at Carmina and tells her, "You'll keep an eye on mom so she doesn't worry all day, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says. Nick knows from the Kim-like tone in her voice that she thinks he's being an ass, but at least she's young enough to not call him out directly yet. All he has to do now is make sure that neither of his girls can rub his rash decision-making in his face when he gets back.

John is quiet as he and Nick make their way through the woods. The walk itself isn't too bad, less than a mile out from the edge of what Nick used to consider his property, but John is having a lot of trouble hiding how jittery it is, and it makes for a tense hike. He keeps speeding up and falling behind, as though he can't decide whether or not he wants to lead the way.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Nick asks eventually, unable to help himself. John answers with such a dirty look that Nick immediately goes on the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that. I just don't want you to, you know... start having nightmares about it or Joseph or whatever all over again. You're the one who's always been weird about it."

John scoffs but doesn't respond. From the way he glares at the ground, Nick figures he probably hasn't stopped having nightmares yet. That's... probably a good reason to keep him from climbing all the way down into the hole. Of course, Nick isn't sure that he'll really be able to stop John, never mind what John promised back at the house.

"What were you doing out here?" John asks after the silence grows out again. "When you found me."

"Oh. Well, I was sorta looking for places to put more traps, after I made them. And, you know, if there was anything left to salvage out here." Neither of those ideas had gone anywhere, although maybe now would be a good time to revisit them. "There's not much out here, though. There's that herd of deer to the north, and the river... we really haven't needed to expand so much."

John hums agreeably in response, although he doesn't have much to add to the conversation. Nick doesn't know how to keep it afloat by himself, so he doesn't, letting them sink back into silence until they finally reach their destination. Nick recognizes the spot by the shock of parachute fabric hanging in the trees, just a flash of artificial color behind the browns and greens of the trees.

Now that he has time to look around, Nick can sort of see where the land had been cleared for installation. Of course, the only remnant of the open circle now is the thinner layer of weeds over what looks like a thirty-foot rectangle. He doesn't remember anybody building out here, and he can't even fathom when they could have done it, but somebody came through here right before the apocalypse and made themselves a hidey-hole.

Nick doesn't wait to approach the closed bunker door, but John lingers at the imagined edge of the space as though facing a barbed-wire fence. He seems pensive and lost in thought, and Nick lets him adjust while he sweeps away dirt and scraggly tumbleweeds that have just started to cover the hatch. Just a bunker or not, it's got to be a lot to deal with, although Nick can't imagine why. No matter how terrible being alone had been, it couldn't have gotten worse than intense boredom. Hell, Nick's met two different people who had clearly let the cabin fever get to them, and neither of them could shut up about their damn bunkers.

Reaching down, Nick braces his legs on either side of the bunker door and pulls at the hatch. John is clearly holding his breath, even this far away, tension coiled in his shoulders and forcing his spine ramrod-straight. He doesn't offer to help, stuck in place like he is.

"Maybe you should stay up here," Nick offers.

Of course, John only scowls at the thought. "You won't know where to look. It would be faster if I went in alone."

"Yeah, Kim would love it if I let you do that. Don't be an asshole."

Nick heaves the door upwards. The rusted hinges scream in protest, as if they hadn't moved in years, but the door swings open after a few hard tugs on the handle.

John hesitates a second longer, then approaches the hatch. Nick goes over to the edge, crouching down so that he doesn't fall, and shines the flashlight down the ladder. The air is stale, smelling like rot and mold, and Nick can see a puddle drying at the base of the ladder. Well, that makes sense — there's no way the seal is still airtight. So much for closing the door from the elements.

"You ready?" Nick asks. John nods mutely in response, standing some feet away from the hole. "Really, John. You don't have anything to prove. Kim would probably be happy if you stayed up top."

John grimaces. "I'll go first," he says, his voice clipped.

This is a bad idea, and Nick knows it. A month or two ago, he'd probably have figured John was about to pull a fast one on him, but now he's more concerned that John is trying to pull something on himself. Confronting your fears is one thing, but as John climbs down the ladder and Nick gets a good look at his pale face and tight jaw, he worries that this is too much, too fast. Not that John seems to understand the concept of pacing himself — he seems more like the kind of guy to throw himself mindlessly at a problem until it shatters under the sheer force of his determination.

Nick hands John the flashlight before he gets out of reach, following him down the rungs as quickly as he can. They knock into each other as he reaches the bottom rung, and Nick turns to find John aiming the flashlight uselessly at their feet. Staring down the murky darkness that turns the bunker into a cave of unknown depths, John looks as though he might hear floodwaters in the distance.

Maybe he's just taken aback by how bad things look, even with only a little light to see by. The looming piles of garbage and years of refuse have turned the twenty-by-ten foot box into a narrow, craggy cavern. Nick can see a door at the far end of the gloom, cracked in the middle and left ajar in its frame, surrounded by a pile of overturned furniture. He spends a second or two trying to calculate the dark tally marks he can see covering the wall next to him, but there are too many and he can't keep track.

John takes a shuddering deep breath that turns Nick's attention back to him. "Hey," he calls, "You okay?"

"Yes," John replies, spitting the word out. He shakes his head heavily from side to side, just in case Nick missed the baldfaced lie for what it is, and takes a hesitating step away from the ladder. The breath he takes doesn't seem to give him enough air, and no amount of gasping can draw more in. He has a white-knuckled grip on the ladder, and it seems for a second to be the only thing holding him up as he visibly reels.

Nick hasn't been on the opposite end of a panic attack in a long time, but he's been through enough on his own to see that John is veering wildly in that direction. He's searching the walls, rapid-fire counting the lines, confusion breaking out on his sweaty, gray face.

"Hey," Nick says quickly, lifting his hands placatingly as he comes closer, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

John shakes his head again, rapidly this time, abandoning any pretense of control. "No," he gasps, "No, I don't think it is!"

Goddamn it. Nick should have known better, he never should have agreed to this, he never should have let John come down here. He just — he hadn't thought it would be like this. He didn't know it could be this bad.

Nick puts off berating himself, at least until John's panic passes. For now, he focuses on damage control, guiding John's free hand to grab hold of the ladder, which is at least haloed in enough light to keep the worst of it from immediate view.

"It is gonna be okay," he insists. "Here, let's — let's get back up top. Get you some fresh air, okay?"

For a moment, it looks like John doesn't understand the concept, but his fingers eventually curl together on one rung. "I didn't know," he says unhelpfully, but at least he doesn't resist as Nick ushers him slowly up the ladder. He moves so slowly, paralyzed by each step, but Nick's only concern is making sure he doesn't fall on his way out.

The sun is right overhead as John slides out of the bunker, crawling on his hands and knees and collapsing several feet away from the opening. Nick hesitates on the last rung, knowing full well that they can't just leave now that they're here, but he has to deal with John first. The radio has waited this long — it can wait a little while longer.

John gasps for air a few more times, barely catching his breath. He doesn't look at Nick, but he offers him a miserable apology, mumbling, "Sorry," halfway into the dirt.

Nick crouches beside John, awkwardly shifting his weight on his feet. He's not sure what he's supposed to do here — he isn't used to being on this side of things, and Kim is so much better at calming people down than he is. The worst of the attack has passed, but Nick's not good at damage control.

"Hey," he says at last, "It's okay. Take your time."

There's not a patient bone in John's body, so it's a small miracle when he listens obediently, struggling until his breath evens out enough to ease the panic.

"I thought I could handle it," he sighs at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "I handled it for seven years, I thought..."

Nick doesn't think what he saw down there counts as handling it by any means, but he's not about to say as much. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to say.

"We should go," Nick says. "This isn't worth it."

John looks offended at the mere suggestion. "We came all the way here," he rasps. "Give me a minute. I'll — I'll go back —"

"Like hell you will," Nick snaps. He doesn't mean to, but damn, is John really such a masochist? "Look, just — let me go find it. You keep watch up here."

There's barely any hesitation before John nods miserably in agreement. He tries not to let it get to him, but he's already shaken by the underground and he's in a suspiciously fragile state himself. He hopes to God that he can find the radio on his own, and that it works enough to make this trip worth the trauma. If this doesn't work out, Nick is going to feel even worse about it than he already does.

It's not the best idea to leave John alone, but Nick forces himself to go through with it anyway. Armed only with his flashlight and empty backpack, Nick descends as quickly as he can, taking one last breath of fresh air before disappearing into the bunker.

God, there is blood everywhere. Nick's not sure how many of the streaks on the walls are meant to be counted with the rest of the tallies, scratched into the walls with what Nick hopes to God was anything other than John's fingernails. Everywhere Nick shines the light, he finds another smear of crumbling red blood, each one painting a different image of John's scars and scabbed over tattoos. The garbage is honestly overwhelming, with a decade of waste piled up openly on top of sealed trash bags, cans spilling across the floor, dirty clothes and ripped fabrics clumped together in haphazard nests that have molded and mildewed into an inseparable mess...

There's more room to walk than Nick originally thought, although there aren't many places entirely free of trash. Still, he hesitates to step outside of the ring of natural light above. After all, nothing about this bunker is safe. Looking past the garbage and the wreckage that John has left behind, Nick sees rust starting to form along the seams, and his first step feels uneven, as if they hadn't leveled the ground properly before installing and just couldn't be assed to fix it.

Jesus Christ. It's a miracle that John didn't die down here. It's surprising enough that it circulated enough air for him to survive. How the hell did he make it as long as he did in this death trap?

It's not a question Nick can answer, and quite frankly he doesn't think it's safe to spend much time down here ruminating. As a matter of fact, the less time he spends down here, the better. It's hard not to take note of the damage, though, especially as he searches for wherever John might've kept his radio. Lord, with the way everything seems to have been torn apart, who knows if it's even going to be in one piece? Or even somewhere accessible? Nick really doesn't want to go poking through the destroyed couch or the bags of trash heaped in confusing piles across the bunker.

He heads all the way to the back of the space, circling around an overturned table and seeing at last a small desk wedged into the corner, facing the ladder. The radio microphone hangs from its cord over the edge, and Nick has to repress a delighted shout when he sees that it's still in one piece. There's a crack along the plastic case, but other than that, Nick can see that it's a model very similar to the one back home — older by a couple of years, maybe, but hopefully not so old that it's no longer compatible.

He struggles to be careful as he loads the radio into his bag, but all he wants to do is get the hell out of here. It's only once he's pulled the heavy backpack back onto his shoulders that Nick takes stock of the position that he's in. Standing here, facing the ladder, Nick can see a definite barrier that John must've formed at some point — the table, the desk, even the broken down automatic washer, all of it has been set up as though John were planning to hunker down against an enemy attack.

On the ground, behind the table, Nick sees a book with a white leather cover. The gilded Eden's Gate emblem has been mostly rubbed clean off, but Nick has seen that book too many times not to recognize it for what it is. It's bloated with water damage and stuffed with ripped addenda that have filled the binding to burst, lying on the cement like an undetonated grenade.

Nick grabs it before he can think better about it. He immediately regrets it, mostly because the bottom cover has become slimy and the whole thing feels like it's going to come apart in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he drops it onto the empty desk, wrinkling his nose at the squelching slap of wet paper on wood. He goes so far as to pinch the first few pages under his finger, ready to flip it open to some random verse — but even touching the cover leaves Nick feeling uneasy and watched. Honestly, just looking at it fills Nick with a sense of distant dread, the same hazy fear that came along with the first time he got a face-full of Bliss.

Fuck that, he decides. Whatever John's left in the book, it's not for Nick to look at. He already got what they came for, and it's been about five minutes; Nick can't leave John waiting much longer, and frankly he doesn't want to. With one last grimace in the book's direction, Nick beelines for the ladder. He stops trying to tabulate how many days John kept track of, stops wondering when or if he ever lost count, and focuses entirely on getting the hell out of the goddamn deathtrap.

It's probably just his imagination, but Nick can smell floral sweetness in the air as he finally escapes the bunker. He takes a deep breath once he's out, tipping his face back to gratefully meet the blue Montana sky.

John waits until Nick looks at him to ask uneasily, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," Nick replies, shifting the backpack so that he can pat it reassuringly. "I think it'll work. I didn't check for the parts — I figure we can do that back home."

John nods a few times. "Good," he mutters, "Good," as if maybe he doesn't think it's such a good thing at all. He falls silent, and Nick realizes he's waiting for Nick to say something about what he saw down there.

Nick wants to say something. He doesn't know what, though. His own thoughts are scattered and confused. "Uh... you mind if I close it up?" he asks.

John shakes his head mutely in response; the clang of the door rises up through the air like a stricken bell, scattering some birds that had been resting in the treetops.

"So... uh..." Nick rubs the back of his head, trying to decide what to say before deciding lamely to go with, "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

The fact that John doesn't immediately reply tells Nick all he needs to know. When John finally says, "No," Nick knows it's a lie, even if he's not sure what to do about it. Nick's positive that they do need to talk about it. But he doesn't know how he can force the issue, and he's sure he's not the man to do it. John needs a licensed psychologist, or a goddamn priest, someone who can absolve him of whatever the fuck that all was down there, not a hick aviator who can hardly handle his own trauma.

"Are you sure?" he presses. "I mean..."

John stares at the dirt, his hands curling into tense fists. Nick moves immediately to rescind the question, but John beats him to the punch. "I didn't know it would look like that," he tells the weeds matted under his boots. "I didn't think it would... be like that."

Nick wants to ask how John avoided noticing the mess spiraling out of control around him, but there had been plenty of evidence down there that proved John hadn't been in a clear state of mind.

"There... were issues with the power early on," John admits, clearing his throat roughly. "I would have to... prioritize. Switch on the lights, switch off the ventilation system. Switch off the lights, switch on the ventilation. Eventually, I stopped switching on the lights."

He swallows a few times and tries to bring his eyes to Nick's, but he can't seem to manage it. "Really," he mutters. "We don't have to talk about it." But before Nick can agree, because he suddenly wants to hear as little of the story as possible, John continues briefly onward, staggering the words as though he's throwing them off a cliff. "I've been locked in the dark before," he says. "I thought I could handle it. But I... I couldn't."

Nick doesn't know what to say. He stares helplessly at John, waiting for Kim to materialize out of the wood and point out the obvious emotional cue for him to take, but there's nothing but John's uncomfortable expression and a quiet forest all around them. He should reach out, maybe. Offer him a sympathetic hand, or something.

"That's all I want to say about it," John says at last.

"Uh. Okay." Nick clears his throat, tries to think up a good joke to lighten the mood, and fails completely. He tries to come up with something to say that would share his sentiment but nothing comes.

"Kim will start to worry," John mutters.

Kim's gonna worry no matter what, but Nick doesn't bother to tell John that. If he thinks he can hide his emotional distress from Nick's wife, then he is welcome to try. At least that'll be more fun to watch than the slow implosion happening in front of him now.

Nick waits until the silence between them on the way back doesn't feel so thick, then tries to distract from John's deeply pensive mood. "I'm not looking forward to reading more of that manual," he says as they trace the path back towards the house. "But I also don't wanna screw up our only chance at replacing it. It's a real tough situation."

"I assume the pictures aren't clear enough for you," John replies. It's a joke insult that stings mostly because of John's brisk delivery, and he ducks away as soon as the words leave his mouth. Nick considers taking it personally for a second, until John wearily mutters a sincere apology into the air between them. "I didn't mean that," he admits roughly.

"It's fine," Nick shrugs. After all, Nick's used to being a self-defensive dickhead; he can't exactly take offense.

Casually brushing it off seems to be the wrong thing to do. John comes to an abrupt halt behind Nick, thick tears gathering and spilling over his closed eyelids. At first, when Nick turns, he can't comprehend the sight in front of him, watching John's face slowly turn red. John sucks in a wet, heaving breath, which only makes things worse as it turns into a sob midway. It seems to mortify John, but he can't stop, and all at once he's just — crying, and Nick is left standing there while John covers his face in humiliation and sucks in deep, horrified breaths. Words try to form between the sobs, but all Nick hears is desperate wailing.

"Shit," Nick says, setting down the backpack, "Okay, hold on —"

"—Didn't know what to do," John's saying, the words tearing from his throat. "I got trapped, I didn't —"

"Hey," Nick tries, "Just — take a breath."

John sobs, dropping to his knees in the mulch. "I lost track of it," he gasps, "I don't know what's real, Nick. How much of this is happening — I keep thinking I'm not — I'm not ever getting out of here, and I —"

Oh, Nick knows he fucked up real bad now. John's cries tear through the scar overlaying his heart, as though twisting a knife that's rusted over in his chest. Nick thinks back to the muttering, the distant looks, the unsettling nightmares, and now he kind of sees them for what they are. Deep, visible wounds on John's psyche that he should have caught sooner. Signs of a collapse much bigger than the one that put them in this world to begin with. Clear indications that John wasn't ready to go back.

"Please," John gasps. He doesn't ask for anything, so Nick doesn't know what he wants, but he repeats the word like it's the only one he knows. "Please."

"God damn," Nick sighs, coming to John's side. "You are a real piece of work."

He can't help but try to deflect, even as he reaches out to grasp the dented curves of John's shoulders. He knows there are deep, claw-mark scars under his hands, even if he can't feel them through the flannel of John's shirt. He thinks he understands where they came from now, although the concept is more horrifying than Nick is willing to consider; all he can do is be better than John had been to himself, and hope that's enough.

Nick barely pulls John in before he's being grabbed, desperate claws sinking into Nick's back as John scrabbles for a secure grip. He's shaking so badly that Nick feels it rattling his own bones. There's nothing for Nick to do but hold on while John desperately tries not to fall apart at the seams, struggling to form coherent words. Nick only catches some of them, as John tries to explain the barriers, the tallies, the scarred over spaces where he used to have tattoos, but he doesn't need to understand the words to see the wounds that are being uncovered.

"Alone," John cries into Nick's chest, "I was alone, the whole time, he said I wouldn't be alone —"

"Okay," Nick consoles, "It's okay."

John eventually calms down, although it's anybody's guess how long it takes for him to finally catch his breath. Even when he does, his gasps finally leveling out, he keeps a tight grip on the back of Nick's shirt. Not even Carmina has clung to Nick so terribly, and despite the fact that John has a couple of years on him, Nick manages to feel desperately protective in the moment. He can't help it. John keeps talking like he can't tell up from down, and he'd been trapped down in that hole for who knows how long without power, and from the chaos he'd seen, it's clear John has been trying to protect himself for a long time.

"I've got ya," Nick says after John lets out a heavy sigh, finally losing the strength to hold on so tightly.

John's sweaty face is pressed into Nick's shoulder, but the words are still clear. "I need this to be real," he admits quietly. "I can't go back there."

"You don't have to," Nick says. He's rubbing John's back now and he doesn't know when he started, but the guy seems so desperate for the contact that he can't bring himself to stop. "You're not making me up, you know?"

John huffs. There might be a laugh somewhere in there, or Nick might be imagining it. "I know," he rasps. "I wouldn't be so kind to myself."

Oh, man. Nick sighs, patting his back gently. "Gotta work on that, I guess," he says. "We'll get you there."

John's fingers curl briefly against Nicks back. "Thank you," he mutters. "God, thank you."

Nick lets the situation lie like that for a minute or so. John is the first one to let go, his arms falling away from Nick's sides as he leans back and takes a deep, steady breath of air. Nick lets him go with a heavy pat on the shoulder, relieved to have the space if only because it means John isn't about to collapse again.

"Kim was right," John admits, saying aloud the thought that's been repeating nonstop in Nick's mind. "I should have listened to her."

Nick gets to his feet. "Yeah, probably. Thank God she isn't the type to say 'I told you so,' huh?"

John sits back, scrubbing at his face with the back of his sleeve. "I hope so," he says.

"I think I know my wife pretty well by now," Nick chuckles, holding his hand out for John. "C'mon, let's get home before she comes looking for us."

For an awful second, Nick thinks John is going to cry again, but he only grits his teeth and takes Nick's help to climb to his own feet. He dusts off his pants as though his face isn't warped by drying tear tracks, wiping belatedly at the wet skin under his eyes as they start onward again. Nick doesn't let him trail behind too far, but he doesn't force John to keep pace either, leaving enough space so that John doesn't feel self-conscious when he starts sniffling again.

They haven't been gone that long, but Kim is still waiting for them outside when they get back. She and Carmina are reading on the porch, but as soon as Nick and John reach the driveway, Kim drops the pretense entirely. Nick hears John take a deep breath behind him; he looks back, but John's expression is too troubled to get a good read. At least he doesn't seem likely to bolt.

"We got it!" Nick shouts as they walk across the drive, lifting the backpack up triumphantly.

"Oh, thank God," Kim sighs, relief flooding her expression. "Nobody got hurt?"

Nick looks back at John, then shrugs. "Nothing we can't fix," he suggests.

John takes a breath. He looks like he wants to spill everything right then and there, but he boils it all down into a simple admission. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Stunned, Kim asks, "Are you okay?"

"No," he quietly replies. "You were right."

Kim shakes her head, glancing briefly at Nick before putting a gentle hand on John's arm. He sighs shakily at the contact, but thankfully he doesn't collapse into another crying wreck. Kim looks like she's expecting something like that, but John manages to surprise them both.

"We can talk about it later, if you want," Kim tells him, patting his shoulder.

There's relief in John's voice as he suggests, "I'll need a strong drink before I accept that offer."

Kim shakes her head, laughing a little. "It's as good a place to start as any," she tells him.

Carmina, who's been standing on the porch looking increasingly bored, finally gives up waiting for attention. "Hey, dad," she calls, lifting the radio's manual up in the air, "Can I help with the radio?"

"So much for my technological superiority," Nick sighs, raising his voice to tell Carmina, "Sure!"

"I couldn't help it," Kim replies. She has a smug expression that tells Nick a different story, but he can easily forgive her for deciding to make their kid smarter out of spite. It's better than trying to poison him or running off with Hurk and his raider gang. "I cleared off the table for you," she adds, "And I brought out the radio so you could get a better look at it."

"I guess there's no better time to start than now," Nick says. He offers John a lopsided grin and asks, "So, uh, how much do you know about electronic repair?"

"About as much as you," John replies. He gestures his arm towards the house, saying, "It can be a learning experience for us all."

As if this whole year so far hasn't been one big learning curve. Nick shakes his head, leading the three adults up to the porch. Carmina disappears inside, triumphantly waving the manual in the air, leaving Nick to chase playfully after her inside the house. He catches sight of Kim talking to John on the porch, but Carmina is squealing delightedly in his arms so he can't quite make out the conversation. Later on, he can tell Kim about what happened, but for now, she seems content with whatever John is saying, patting him again on the arm before leading him inside. She shuts the door behind her, and for the first time in almost a year, Nick feels as though he's finally home, surrounded by people on the same page as him for once. This, he thinks, could very well be his new normal, and that's not so bad at all.

Karma Fairy

This will be a LONG one, like, short novel long, but its been a long gig and I need to tell the world of this mess, hoping this'll pay my debt back to the karma fairy for letting justice rain on this.

The cast: Me MOS (manager on site) CB (cheeky bugger) HAH (horny asshole)

TLDR; HAH acts like he's the pro and brags to everyone, before talking shit about coworkers behind their back to other coworkers and boss, then doesn't do his job, expects boss not to find out he's skipping work, doesn't turn to work and when boss wants to ask him what the fuck, doesn't even answer his phone. HAH is in for a surprise when MOS will never hire him again and probably will cut ties with him all together, as he now knows what a shit person HAH is.   

Background info: I'v been with this company for half a year now, but have recently moved from another town. My old boss offered to introduce me to the manager at the new town and said they could easily get me more work there. I agree that I'd love to keep working for them, as I'v been cleaning for years on several smaller companies, but its never ended happily. Turns out cleaning as a profession is a swamp of bad customers and crap employers. Who knew. All in all, this company has been nothing but nice and I love working for them. The two managers I'v worked for were stellar gents, I trust them and will bend backwards to keep the customer happy for these people. My current boss at the company, is a friendly, no nonsense guy. I'v met him like, twice before I got to the worksite, but he seemed to get along well with my old boss, so I trust this guy. A little scatterbrained and bad at choosing workers, but we all make mistakes. Also kinda crap at making inventory on what needs to be done when etc. but its okay, he has a whole town's cleaning jobs to run for a fairly big company.

My new manager, MOS, asks if I want to do a short gig, since they don't have anything stable to give me yet. I agree, as I want work asap. This would also raise my experience and give me kudos in the company for accepting short notice work, since MOS called me a day before the gig starts. (turns out nobody else wanted to do it except me and CB) Gig is at an office type building, to clean before the new tenants move in. Space has been cleaned after the last tenant left, but they want us to deep clean the space, since new tenant has had problems with in-door air quality at their last place, meaning they're gonna be absolutely anal about new place being clean. MOS makes it clear to all three of us working there, me, CB and HAH that this is IMPORTANT. The dust HAS to be gone. From EVERYWHERE. There is no slacking at this job. This is one of those gigs where it has to be spotless or we'll have to just re-do it until it is.

On day one, I meet my work buddies for this gig. CB, darker skinned immigrant worker, speaks fairly ok english and a understandable version of the language of the land. Does the jobs given to him, or so we thought. Not a bad dude, just has a shit ton of work on his plate, including another cleaning company next to ours, this raises tension with him and MOS. HAH, dude says he's a veteran of the field. Has been cleaning "forever". Keeps mentioning how he's a pro at window washing and seems oddly fixated on windows, as if he thinks this is his only job here. MOS said he hired this guy because HAH didn't have work atm. Never said that HAH would only be doing windows. From that day on, HAH would constantly, and I mean CONSTANTLY, keep talking how the windows will only take him a day to do, including the outside. How this job, that has been scheduled for 70 hours or in other words 5 days, will only take us like two, so we can take it slow and laze around. (Of course not when MOS is around, but he openly talks about going slow with me and CB. Even bitches at me for doing the bathrooms "too fast" as we'll "run out of work" if I don't slow down.) When HAH wasn't boasting about how fast this'll be, he is talking about sex. Not kidding. This man spent 80% of the time his mouth was moving talking about fucking, dicks, vags, railing women and the sort. Now I ain't a prude, but damn son, reel it in a little. He's 49, going through a divorce, with kids my age (29) and it seems like he has no other topics besides being a fast worker and how many women he's banged. CB humors him, but I only answer with curt, short comments. I'm not interested. I'm here to work, not boost someone's ego. We get trouble almost immediately. HAH starts on indoors glass surfaces, while me and CB start trying to figure out how the heck we're supposed to clean the windows that are second story high, we have our own saga with fighting a scaffolding set that's not only badly installed, but at the wrong spot, trying to get it moved, trying to have CB not die falling from cleaning on this thing, etc. It is not fun, its driving MOS insane trying to get the guys responsible for the scaffolding to help us. It goes on for most of the time we're there. In the end, all higher windows have to be cleaned with a seriously dodgy ladder.

Trouble starts on the third last day. Its monday. I come in to find nobody there. Okay, I assume CB has been working too much again and can't come in today, or will be late. Its a trend, but I'm like, its okay. We're almost done anyways. On Friday, HAH left super SUPER early, saying he's done all he needs and we'll do the windows outside on monday when it gets warmer. I shrug, almost tell him to fuck off since he's done jack shit all week, even though he was supposed to help us with EVERYTHING, not just windows, but let him leave because its his fault when MOS comes by later that day and he gets in trouble. MOS got annoyed as fuck when he did come by, but said I could leave early too since we're almost done. (or were we, dun dun duu)

At around lunch on monday, I call MOS to ask about the bathrooms in the foyer, if they belong to the office space and if I should clean them too. Here's the convo: "Yeah those are part of the office too." "Hey I wanted to ask, where is everybody? I'm alone here and we aren't nearly done." "Oh uhh.. Yeah HAH was there this morning, but since the usual electricians didn't show up before 9am, he waited outside the door for an hour and left, without calling me to get someone to open the door." "What?! He left???" "Yeah I don't think I'm hiring this guy again after this. Old friend or not. He's getting all kinds of cocky.." "Well, yeah, he left super early on friday too, saying how he'd finish the outside windows on monday but I guess thats tomorrow then?" MOS apologizes and tells me he's gonna come by in a few to do inventory on what needs to be done and check up a bit on what has been done. We're going to have a check-up with the customer on tuesday around noon, so we'll know what the customer wants re-done by wednesday. MOS shows up in about half an hour, I tell him the list of stuff that needs doing, at this point its mostly the floors, one bathroom needs a quick dust-up since its been in use. We walk around and spot some dusty window frames. MOS looks suspicious af and starts touching ALL the window frames indoors. There's dust everywhere. HAH was supposed to wipe these as he cleaned them, turns out he didn't. While we're doing that, we spot a few ventilation vents that need to be vacuumed, nothing major. Some walls are scuffed and we comment on how that could use a touch up. All in all it looks ok. Rest of monday is spent with CB, who shows up late, getting upper surface dusting done and me finishing small stuff like the bathrooms and some of the walls. By the end of day, I'v seen MOS outside with window cleaning stuff finishing the outside windows. I'm starting to suspect he is so done with HAH at this point. This is tuesday. I come in fairly early, as I can only work for 3 hours that day. In between that tuesday and the first day there, I'v gotten a small bank job from CB to do three times a week + I'm doing holiday leave for a bigger job in town, cutting my available hours to 3 at the office space. This means I'm there for 3 hours, finishing up dusting high up surfaces, when I walk past where MOS and HAH are talking in a room. HAH is making snide comments on how he's surprised (me) can use the floor cleaning equipment. I listen in, take a deep breath, and walk away. Not worth it. I don't have the energy to explain to this jackass I have a damn degree, that has 40% of it concentrated on machine usage and maintenance. I can use any and all equipment a cleaning job needs, be it floor cleaners, polishers, watervacuums or those mini-zambonis. Client shows up around noon. MOS is busy walking the premises with them and I immediately realize there's trouble. The client(s) turn out to be a group of people, with various faces and job titles. MOS looks horrified about 5 minutes in and it just gets worse from there. HAH has done a shit job. Like, major shit job. CB did some of the windows high up, but since he's clearly never been actually taught how to do it, he did it in whatever way that felt logical to him. HAH was supposed to spot clean after CB, but this combo just turned into a mess where ALL indoors window frames had to now be re-dusted with a wet cloth. Yes. All of them. 1000m2 of space, re-dusted. That's 10 763,9 sq ft for americans. HAH had the balls to walk past me re-dusting with "I did that when I cleaned the windows you don't have to do that" which I curtly responded to with "No, the customer literally just said everything has to be re-done." This caused HAH to start doing the SAME THING I WAS DOING. We now had TWO people dusting these window frames, like idiots, while the customer is there. I was so very VERY close to throwing my rag at this guy, telling him to fucking find something useful to do, instead of passive-aggressively following me. I was already doing the job, what on earth! On top of this, the customer found dust. But refused to tell us where he found the dust from. MOS is flabbergasted. How does hiding where it is help us clean? We have no idea, we went through the whole location trying to find this mystery dust treasure trove. Got some hits, cleaned those. MOS is defeated and deflated, he is tired and done after the customer(s) leave. Turns out we have to re-do most light-fixtures, some windows needed a re-wipe, the floors are still not done. I leave on tuesday early, with HAH still shit talking to MOS, now insulting CB's work ethic and results openly, getting more and more racist by the minute. I exit before I have to hear what he has to say about my cleaning. So its wednesday now. Its technically our last day there and everything has to be perfect, finished and spotless before anyone can go home. What does HAH do? Leave early. I come in around 9:30, by 10:00 HAH is gathering his gear talking about how there's only the floor to clean and we should be done. CB is coming later to help right, you'll be fine on your own with 1000m2 flooring to clean! (again, 10 763,9 sq ft) Apparently only some of the offices floors need cleaning, mostly what is needed is two front offices, the big entrance room, a hallway and the foyer. All this time HAH is talking, he is clearly talking about using the small floor cleaning machine we have there. He even points at it, making sure I know how to use it etc. Before he leaves, I ask him to help me move all our equipment, scattered around the office, to the main lobby room and clean up a little. I'm thinking, he can at least do THAT, right?? No. No he cannot. He brings maybe third of the equipment to the lobby, helps with none of the trash, and just poofs into thin air. I'm like, ok, I'm fine with this. I start by checking that everything is ok, spot clean some walls, then start on the floor. I use the little machine we have. At the lesser used end of the hallway it works fine. It looks clean etc. But by the time I'm at the lobby end of the hallway, I'm seeing streaks on the floor. This is a trend that continues through the two offices and the foyer. After I'm done with the lobby/main entrance room, I realize this isn't gonna fly. The floor is super streaky and I can't figure out what is going on. I'm technically done now, all the floors are ran through once with the cleaning machine, but I just don't feel right leaving without asking MOS about the floor, if there's something to do, if I can leave etc. I text MOS if I can leave, I'm done with everything, I think, etc. Ask about the streaking. Then I start my lunch. I know he's at a meeting so getting an answer might take time and I'm in no hurry, as I have no other work on wednesdays, I can stay here however long that is needed. I don't hear anything in 45 minutes and decide fuck it, I'll call him. MOS answers instantly, laughing how he was just about to call. We laugh about telepathy and here's the convo: "So are the electricians gone? They were supposed to finish today right? Are you guys alone?" "What? No, I'm alone. There's two electricians here with me, they seem pissed too, I guess nobody is in time here." "Wait what? You're alone? Where's HAH??? Didn't CB show up??" "Uhh no?" "What in the actual fuck!? What happened???" "HAH was here until about 10am but he left, said everything was done, he had nothing to do so he'd be off" "What the fuck does he mean Nothing to do?? The floors are- are the floors done?" "Well see, there's this weird streaking problem.. I don't want to leave before you ok me to leave, since this doesn't look clean to me, tbh" "Give me 20 minutes. I'll be there. I'll give you a ride home later." "I'm in no hurry, I have no other work for today" MOS shows up in exactly 20 minutes. "The polishing machine hasn't done a very good job has it.." "What polishing machine?" "Huh? You haven't used the polishing machine on the lobby yet?" "No??? I wasn't told that was to be done. All HAH told me was to use the small machine and we'd be done?" "No, we need to use the polishin machine on the lobby, foyer and probably the hallway too, looking at the streaking, the shit's stained too deep for the small machine to penetrate it. Fucking HAH! What the hell does he think he's doing!? Why the hell did we bring the polishing machine and watervacuum here if its not used! Idiots!" At this point MOS starts cursing and I realize its finally dawned on him how much work there still is to do, and its just me and him now. MOS calls around trying to reach anyone to help, CB can't come he's already used his hours today, again. (Turns out he isn't even doing his jobs at the other places he cleans well, he has been lazying around wasting time and not following customer wishes/demands for a while, MOS tells me I might be getting stable work sooner than later, as it seems CB is gonna get booted too if his shitty work quality continues) Its now about 1pm and MOS asks me, looking desperate, if I'm okay helping him for the afternoon and for the next day as well. I agree, saying I'd gladly take the cash and how this vexes me too. The floor looks terrible + I want to look as good as possible to MOS now that I know both CB and HAH have screwed over their graces royally. We take a couple hours to use the smaller machine again the offices, but with the Good Stuff used with the polishing machine, resulting in clean floors. While I'm doing the offices, MOS starts on the lobby, with the Good Stuff + the polisher. GS is a very smelly, acidic chemical meant to strip wax off flooring, so its serious stuff, but also proceeds to get this grimy, black substance to come out the plastic flooring, making us realize some poor fucker waxed this floor, thinking it'd help (spoiler it didn't, don't wax plastic flooring) and that was causing the streaking, as the smaller machine can't strip wax but it can streak it. Thing is, when you use the polishing machine, you literally throw water and cleaning agent on the floor, run it over with the polisher then use the watervacuum to remove the dirty water. Its a two person job or it takes forever, since you cannot let the detergent and water dry, or you have to re-do everything. There was NO way I could have done this alone in a sensible time! HAH either knew this and was a cruel shit head or didn't know and wasn't the pro he said he was. By the time its 3pm, we have the lobby half done and the offices finished. The next day would be the hallway and the rest of the lobby. Before we leave, MOS tries to call HAH to ask him what the fuck is up, but doesn't get an answer. I tell MOS not to bother, HAH knows he's in shit so won't answer. MOS drives me home and on the way he expresses his regret in letting HAH in on the job, saying how if he knew what a bastard HAH'd be, MOS would never have hired HAH. MOS also tells me how HAH spent the whole tuesday shit talking CB and my work, how if HAH was alone he'd finished in 2 days. TWO DAYS. MOS says that was the point where he stopped listening and decided this man was beyond help. This is also when I heard MOS talk about how CB's other locations have been complaining a lot, saying how CB would leave equipment everywhere, would not clean the whole time he was supposed to be cleaning, would not show up at work etc. Got pretty much told I could have free pick when CB was fired later this year on his locations. MOS also mentioned how he was going to find out if there was anything he could do about HAH's pay, since he hadn't been at work or if he had been at work hadn't actually worked. I told MOS some pretty exact times when I knew HAH was working, meaning HAH couldn't bullshit his hours to MOS saying he'd worked when he hadn't.

Sadly, I didn’t go on thursday after all, as I realized I had a medical appointment I thought was on friday but was on thursday instead, so I have no other ending to this, except the knowledge that HAH will never work for MOS again.

I apologize for the HUGE wall of text, but it was a wild week and by the end of it, I could literally see karma fairy when I closed my eyes. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall when HAH realizes what a shit show this gig was and how its gonna affect his work prospects with this company.

Epilogue: Also, as a sidenote, yeah, this whole thing was a mess from the customer perspective too. By the time we got to wednesday, the electricians weren't done, they were supposed to have been done DAYS before we were to be done. There was new renovations that needed to be done showing up constantly. Several smaller jobs hadn't been done etc. I feel bad for the new tenants, who were supposed to move in on FRIDAY, with walls to be painted and crap still MIA. So its almost as if the picky customer got karma'd too. They were so hellbent on having the cleaning done perfectly, that the renovations weren't done anywhere near in time, meaning the nice clean floors and bathrooms? Now dirty again from reno guys using them for a good two days after we finished. And as we have picture evidence of our work, they can't come back saying we didn't clean. We did our job and their reno guys fucked our work up, not our problem.

TLDR; HAH acts like he's the pro and brags to everyone, before talking shit about coworkers behind their back to other coworkers and boss, then doesn't do his job, expects boss not to find out he's skipping work, doesn't turn to work and when boss wants to ask him what the fuck, doesn't even answer his phone. HAH is in for a surprise when MOS will never hire him again and probably will cut ties with him all together, as he now knows what a shit person HAH is.

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together!

Remember how I’m crazy and putting in my second laundry room in this house in the space of 5 years? Fun times with fickleness.

Step #1 was demolishing the chimney. We’ve discussed this. It was painful but worth it: otherwise my options were to have the machines side-by-side next to the chimney with no sink (where my floating desk was) or stack the machines and have a sink but no other work surface really, or demolish the chimney and have side-by-side machines and a sink. The last option won out, but left a big hole in the floor, the ceiling, and about a foot and a half of missing wall from floor to ceiling! Cute.

Step #2 was getting the electrical in place. Evidently I did not take pictures of this, but that doesn’t mean it just happened by magic! The room had two existing outlets, but a washing machine requires a dedicated 20-amp circuit and a dryer requires a dedicated 30-amp circuit, so both had to be brought up to the room. Luckily, this was very uncomplicated: my old laundry room was further away from my electrical panel than the new one, so it was just a matter of turning off the power to those circuits, pulling the wires back through part of the basement and up the new chase (where the chimney used to live!) and into that back wall. This kind of stuff is actually super simple to do yourself with the slightest amount of know-how, but of course if you have any concerns at all or even dead wires make you queasy, hire a qualified electrician. Duhzville.

Once that was done and my electrical boxes installed, it was on to Step #3: drywall!

Typically I would have tried to patch the missing section of plaster left by the chimney demolition, but in this case I had the depth on my baseboard to add another 5/8″ thickness to the wall, so I opted instead to just drywall over the whole wall. The biggest reason for this is noise: luckily my machines are pretty tame, but I’m still moving big laundry machines to the second floor, basically in the middle of the house, and on a wall that backs to my bedroom, so some additional sound-proofing seemed to be in order!

I wrote several months ago about the line of Purple XP drywalls, and National Gypsum was kind enough to supply the drywall for this project so I could test it out. This is the SoundBreak XP, which is essentially two high-density gypsum boards with a goop in between that blocks sound transmission that would otherwise occur through the wall. It’s also mold and mildew resistant, which is nice now that this room has plumbing! My thought was that leaving the remaining plaster behind it should provide additional sound insulation too, but otherwise you’d probably want to insulate the wall if things are all opened up.

Working with SoundBreak differs from more standard drywalls in a number of ways. First—both sides of the board look the same, but only one side (clearly marked) is supposed to face out. Second, SoundBreak should be installed vertically—not horizontally! Huh! I think it may be to keep seams contained only to where they’re backed completely by framing members. Third, SoundBreak—due to that layer of goop—cannot be scored and snapped like regular drywall can: you have to cut it with a saw! As you might imagine, this is very dusty and ideally should be done outdoors with a good respirator. A circular saw is best for straight cuts, but we were working in tight quarters and used my handy little oscillating saw to get the job done. Fourth, it is HEAVY. I can lift a sheet of 1/2″ lightweight drywall without too much effort, but I cannot lift a SoundBreak board—so be warned that hanging is likely a two person job unless you have Hulk-like strength.

And, since you asked: YES covering up that fabulous Hygge & West wallpaper was a sad moment. Don’t take it personally, wallpaper, I still love you so much! That being said, I still have an entire roll of it (first floor powder room, anyone??), and it’s still in production, and…ya know, there are worse sacrifices. There’s something I sort of like about hiding it behind the drywall, though, like a little time capsule! It’s gonna be OK.

Here you can see the part of the baseboard I had to patch. It’s behind the dryer so I’m not SUPER concerned about it being perfect, but…ya know, I want it perfect. In part because I do not trust myself and now that there’s no chimney in here, this room can actually fit a twin bed…QUIET DOWN, VOICES IN MY HEAD.

Also, that piece of plywood is covering the big hole in the floor where the chimney used to be! Without it, you could stand in the attic and look all the way down to the basement floor, which is just an odd new experience to have in your own house.

ANYWAY. Once the drywall was up, I patched the missing piece in the ceiling and then enlisted Edwin and his mudding and taping skills to get the walls and ceiling ready for paint. The finishing work here isn’t anything crazy, but he can do it so quickly and well that it usually feels worth it to save myself the headache. Normally you’d apply paper or mesh tape and 3 coats of joint compound to the seams and over screw holes, but I like to overcomplicate literally everything and skim-coat the entire wall as a final step, too. I find that this gives new drywall just enough irregularity once painted to match adjacent plaster walls, since those are never so perfectly smooth!

It’s getting there! It’s getting there! Luckily I had a scrap of baseboard that was large enough to patch in the missing section, and old pieces of subfloor to patch the floor. It’s nice when the house provides the material to fix itself! The patched floorboards are the same dimensions as the originals, but the joints are tighter so things don’t quite line up. Don’t care! It’ll be covered anyhow by the dryer, but I don’t really mind funny staggered patches like that in wood floors.

Speaking of wood floors, now is the part where I openly admit: I cannot have white painted floors. My god, they are not for me. Some people (Swedes, primarily) seem to have no problem keeping white painted floors looking great for years, and I admire them. But the combination of dogs and a house under construction and frequently using the window in this room a couple years ago as an entrance while Edwin and I tore down additions and worked on restoring the exterior of this side of the house left these floors pretty destroyed and terrible looking. Even before that, they drove me crazy. Never. Again.

But…remember how I mentioned that this renovation is really just about getting the major players in place without draining significant funds, time, or mental energy? I mean that very seriously. For a while I was so hung up on needing to install a tile floor or run the wood flooring from the adjacent room into this one that I would get overwhelmed by the whole project. It would cost a lot! It would take a while! And it’s such a COMMITMENT and I don’t even really have a fleshed out design plan for this space so I don’t even know what I want! And I refuse to let this become a big project so I don’t even really want to have to know what I want! WOE IS ME!

THEN I realized I could actually just re-paint my fucked up white floor and nobody was likely to die as a result! Isn’t that something!

Sometimes reigning it in is difficult for me. Like all the time.

So. I patched a bunch of the larger gauges with Bondo, caulked here and there, chose a color off a paint chip (seriously, why in the world I think I can do this but would never advise anybody else to is beyond me), thoroughly cleaned the floor, and painted it!

Immediate Uh-Oh I Hate This. The color is a color-matched version of Farrow & Ball’s “Setting Plaster” and it’s roughly the color that would result if dried Bondo and a Band-Aid procreated. As a frequent user of both, this was not exactly what I had in mind.

While I stewed on that, I painted the walls and ceiling. I did not exactly think this through—I actually intended to just paint the new wall and touch-up just where necessary in the rest of the room (because restraint!), but once I got into it I realized how much everything would really benefit from a fresh couple of coats (because perfectionism!) so I ended up repainting the whole thing! Had I decided this beforehand I probably would have gone with a different color, butttttttt whatcha gonna do! On the plus side, I still had enough leftover paint from the first time around to eek out two coats! The paint is Clark + Kensington flat finish, and the color was called Casa Blanca but I cannot find it on the internet for the life of me and I think maybe it’s no longer part of the color deck. I’ve had the can for 5 years; who knows.

Unexciting color choice notwithstanding, there’s nothing like a fresh coat of paint. Even at this stage the room felt kind of…pretty?

I repainted all the trim Benjamin Moore Simply White which I’ve used all over the house (and also had the paint already!) and then forged ahead with the floor, figuring worst case scenario I’d just call this the primer and do something else…and then a great miracle occurred! I LOVE it! Context, man. It changes things. By the way, that’s the little teeny closet door for the little teeny closet under the attic stairs. It’s one of the cutest things in the house and makes me happy. Also, the laundry room is going to have its very own little closet! For stuff and things!

So. My quick n’ easy just-make-it-function laundry room got a little more TLC and time than I was even intending to give it, which honestly at this point I was pissed at myself about. BUT! It really feels like a whole new space, and ultimately I think I’ll be happy I went the extra mile for it.

Or, ya know, at least like a few blocks.

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together! syndicated from findqueenslandelectricians.wordpress.com

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together!

Remember how I’m crazy and putting in my second laundry room in this house in the space of 5 years? Fun times with fickleness.

Step #1 was demolishing the chimney. We’ve discussed this. It was painful but worth it: otherwise my options were to have the machines side-by-side next to the chimney with no sink (where my floating desk was) or stack the machines and have a sink but no other work surface really, or demolish the chimney and have side-by-side machines and a sink. The last option won out, but left a big hole in the floor, the ceiling, and about a foot and a half of missing wall from floor to ceiling! Cute.

Step #2 was getting the electrical in place. Evidently I did not take pictures of this, but that doesn’t mean it just happened by magic! The room had two existing outlets, but a washing machine requires a dedicated 20-amp circuit and a dryer requires a dedicated 30-amp circuit, so both had to be brought up to the room. Luckily, this was very uncomplicated: my old laundry room was further away from my electrical panel than the new one, so it was just a matter of turning off the power to those circuits, pulling the wires back through part of the basement and up the new chase (where the chimney used to live!) and into that back wall. This kind of stuff is actually super simple to do yourself with the slightest amount of know-how, but of course if you have any concerns at all or even dead wires make you queasy, hire a qualified electrician. Duhzville.

Once that was done and my electrical boxes installed, it was on to Step #3: drywall!

Typically I would have tried to patch the missing section of plaster left by the chimney demolition, but in this case I had the depth on my baseboard to add another 5/8″ thickness to the wall, so I opted instead to just drywall over the whole wall. The biggest reason for this is noise: luckily my machines are pretty tame, but I’m still moving big laundry machines to the second floor, basically in the middle of the house, and on a wall that backs to my bedroom, so some additional sound-proofing seemed to be in order!

I wrote several months ago about the line of Purple XP drywalls, and National Gypsum was kind enough to supply the drywall for this project so I could test it out. This is the SoundBreak XP, which is essentially two high-density gypsum boards with a goop in between that blocks sound transmission that would otherwise occur through the wall. It’s also mold and mildew resistant, which is nice now that this room has plumbing! My thought was that leaving the remaining plaster behind it should provide additional sound insulation too, but otherwise you’d probably want to insulate the wall if things are all opened up.

Working with SoundBreak differs from more standard drywalls in a number of ways. First—both sides of the board look the same, but only one side (clearly marked) is supposed to face out. Second, SoundBreak should be installed vertically—not horizontally! Huh! I think it may be to keep seams contained only to where they’re backed completely by framing members. Third, SoundBreak—due to that layer of goop—cannot be scored and snapped like regular drywall can: you have to cut it with a saw! As you might imagine, this is very dusty and ideally should be done outdoors with a good respirator. A circular saw is best for straight cuts, but we were working in tight quarters and used my handy little oscillating saw to get the job done. Fourth, it is HEAVY. I can lift a sheet of 1/2″ lightweight drywall without too much effort, but I cannot lift a SoundBreak board—so be warned that hanging is likely a two person job unless you have Hulk-like strength.

And, since you asked: YES covering up that fabulous Hygge & West wallpaper was a sad moment. Don’t take it personally, wallpaper, I still love you so much! That being said, I still have an entire roll of it (first floor powder room, anyone??), and it’s still in production, and…ya know, there are worse sacrifices. There’s something I sort of like about hiding it behind the drywall, though, like a little time capsule! It’s gonna be OK.

Here you can see the part of the baseboard I had to patch. It’s behind the dryer so I’m not SUPER concerned about it being perfect, but…ya know, I want it perfect. In part because I do not trust myself and now that there’s no chimney in here, this room can actually fit a twin bed…QUIET DOWN, VOICES IN MY HEAD.

Also, that piece of plywood is covering the big hole in the floor where the chimney used to be! Without it, you could stand in the attic and look all the way down to the basement floor, which is just an odd new experience to have in your own house.

ANYWAY. Once the drywall was up, I patched the missing piece in the ceiling and then enlisted Edwin and his mudding and taping skills to get the walls and ceiling ready for paint. The finishing work here isn’t anything crazy, but he can do it so quickly and well that it usually feels worth it to save myself the headache. Normally you’d apply paper or mesh tape and 3 coats of joint compound to the seams and over screw holes, but I like to overcomplicate literally everything and skim-coat the entire wall as a final step, too. I find that this gives new drywall just enough irregularity once painted to match adjacent plaster walls, since those are never so perfectly smooth!

It’s getting there! It’s getting there! Luckily I had a scrap of baseboard that was large enough to patch in the missing section, and old pieces of subfloor to patch the floor. It’s nice when the house provides the material to fix itself! The patched floorboards are the same dimensions as the originals, but the joints are tighter so things don’t quite line up. Don’t care! It’ll be covered anyhow by the dryer, but I don’t really mind funny staggered patches like that in wood floors.

Speaking of wood floors, now is the part where I openly admit: I cannot have white painted floors. My god, they are not for me. Some people (Swedes, primarily) seem to have no problem keeping white painted floors looking great for years, and I admire them. But the combination of dogs and a house under construction and frequently using the window in this room a couple years ago as an entrance while Edwin and I tore down additions and worked on restoring the exterior of this side of the house left these floors pretty destroyed and terrible looking. Even before that, they drove me crazy. Never. Again.

But…remember how I mentioned that this renovation is really just about getting the major players in place without draining significant funds, time, or mental energy? I mean that very seriously. For a while I was so hung up on needing to install a tile floor or run the wood flooring from the adjacent room into this one that I would get overwhelmed by the whole project. It would cost a lot! It would take a while! And it’s such a COMMITMENT and I don’t even really have a fleshed out design plan for this space so I don’t even know what I want! And I refuse to let this become a big project so I don’t even really want to have to know what I want! WOE IS ME!

THEN I realized I could actually just re-paint my fucked up white floor and nobody was likely to die as a result! Isn’t that something!

Sometimes reigning it in is difficult for me. Like all the time.

So. I patched a bunch of the larger gauges with Bondo, caulked here and there, chose a color off a paint chip (seriously, why in the world I think I can do this but would never advise anybody else to is beyond me), thoroughly cleaned the floor, and painted it!

Immediate Uh-Oh I Hate This. The color is a color-matched version of Farrow & Ball’s “Setting Plaster” and it’s roughly the color that would result if dried Bondo and a Band-Aid procreated. As a frequent user of both, this was not exactly what I had in mind.

While I stewed on that, I painted the walls and ceiling. I did not exactly think this through—I actually intended to just paint the new wall and touch-up just where necessary in the rest of the room (because restraint!), but once I got into it I realized how much everything would really benefit from a fresh couple of coats (because perfectionism!) so I ended up repainting the whole thing! Had I decided this beforehand I probably would have gone with a different color, butttttttt whatcha gonna do! On the plus side, I still had enough leftover paint from the first time around to eek out two coats! The paint is Clark + Kensington flat finish, and the color was called Casa Blanca but I cannot find it on the internet for the life of me and I think maybe it’s no longer part of the color deck. I’ve had the can for 5 years; who knows.

Unexciting color choice notwithstanding, there’s nothing like a fresh coat of paint. Even at this stage the room felt kind of…pretty?

I repainted all the trim Benjamin Moore Simply White which I’ve used all over the house (and also had the paint already!) and then forged ahead with the floor, figuring worst case scenario I’d just call this the primer and do something else…and then a great miracle occurred! I LOVE it! Context, man. It changes things. By the way, that’s the little teeny closet door for the little teeny closet under the attic stairs. It’s one of the cutest things in the house and makes me happy. Also, the laundry room is going to have its very own little closet! For stuff and things!

So. My quick n’ easy just-make-it-function laundry room got a little more TLC and time than I was even intending to give it, which honestly at this point I was pissed at myself about. BUT! It really feels like a whole new space, and ultimately I think I’ll be happy I went the extra mile for it.

Or, ya know, at least like a few blocks.

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together! published first on https://carpetgurus.tumblr.com/

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together!

Remember how I’m crazy and putting in my second laundry room in this house in the space of 5 years? Fun times with fickleness.

Step #1 was demolishing the chimney. We’ve discussed this. It was painful but worth it: otherwise my options were to have the machines side-by-side next to the chimney with no sink (where my floating desk was) or stack the machines and have a sink but no other work surface really, or demolish the chimney and have side-by-side machines and a sink. The last option won out, but left a big hole in the floor, the ceiling, and about a foot and a half of missing wall from floor to ceiling! Cute.

Step #2 was getting the electrical in place. Evidently I did not take pictures of this, but that doesn’t mean it just happened by magic! The room had two existing outlets, but a washing machine requires a dedicated 20-amp circuit and a dryer requires a dedicated 30-amp circuit, so both had to be brought up to the room. Luckily, this was very uncomplicated: my old laundry room was further away from my electrical panel than the new one, so it was just a matter of turning off the power to those circuits, pulling the wires back through part of the basement and up the new chase (where the chimney used to live!) and into that back wall. This kind of stuff is actually super simple to do yourself with the slightest amount of know-how, but of course if you have any concerns at all or even dead wires make you queasy, hire a qualified electrician. Duhzville.

Once that was done and my electrical boxes installed, it was on to Step #3: drywall!

Typically I would have tried to patch the missing section of plaster left by the chimney demolition, but in this case I had the depth on my baseboard to add another 5/8″ thickness to the wall, so I opted instead to just drywall over the whole wall. The biggest reason for this is noise: luckily my machines are pretty tame, but I’m still moving big laundry machines to the second floor, basically in the middle of the house, and on a wall that backs to my bedroom, so some additional sound-proofing seemed to be in order!

I wrote several months ago about the line of Purple XP drywalls, and National Gypsum was kind enough to supply the drywall for this project so I could test it out. This is the SoundBreak XP, which is essentially two high-density gypsum boards with a goop in between that blocks sound transmission that would otherwise occur through the wall. It’s also mold and mildew resistant, which is nice now that this room has plumbing! My thought was that leaving the remaining plaster behind it should provide additional sound insulation too, but otherwise you’d probably want to insulate the wall if things are all opened up.

Working with SoundBreak differs from more standard drywalls in a number of ways. First—both sides of the board look the same, but only one side (clearly marked) is supposed to face out. Second, SoundBreak should be installed vertically—not horizontally! Huh! I think it may be to keep seams contained only to where they’re backed completely by framing members. Third, SoundBreak—due to that layer of goop—cannot be scored and snapped like regular drywall can: you have to cut it with a saw! As you might imagine, this is very dusty and ideally should be done outdoors with a good respirator. A circular saw is best for straight cuts, but we were working in tight quarters and used my handy little oscillating saw to get the job done. Fourth, it is HEAVY. I can lift a sheet of 1/2″ lightweight drywall without too much effort, but I cannot lift a SoundBreak board—so be warned that hanging is likely a two person job unless you have Hulk-like strength.

And, since you asked: YES covering up that fabulous Hygge & West wallpaper was a sad moment. Don’t take it personally, wallpaper, I still love you so much! That being said, I still have an entire roll of it (first floor powder room, anyone??), and it’s still in production, and…ya know, there are worse sacrifices. There’s something I sort of like about hiding it behind the drywall, though, like a little time capsule! It’s gonna be OK.

Here you can see the part of the baseboard I had to patch. It’s behind the dryer so I’m not SUPER concerned about it being perfect, but…ya know, I want it perfect. In part because I do not trust myself and now that there’s no chimney in here, this room can actually fit a twin bed…QUIET DOWN, VOICES IN MY HEAD.

Also, that piece of plywood is covering the big hole in the floor where the chimney used to be! Without it, you could stand in the attic and look all the way down to the basement floor, which is just an odd new experience to have in your own house.

ANYWAY. Once the drywall was up, I patched the missing piece in the ceiling and then enlisted Edwin and his mudding and taping skills to get the walls and ceiling ready for paint. The finishing work here isn’t anything crazy, but he can do it so quickly and well that it usually feels worth it to save myself the headache. Normally you’d apply paper or mesh tape and 3 coats of joint compound to the seams and over screw holes, but I like to overcomplicate literally everything and skim-coat the entire wall as a final step, too. I find that this gives new drywall just enough irregularity once painted to match adjacent plaster walls, since those are never so perfectly smooth!

It’s getting there! It’s getting there! Luckily I had a scrap of baseboard that was large enough to patch in the missing section, and old pieces of subfloor to patch the floor. It’s nice when the house provides the material to fix itself! The patched floorboards are the same dimensions as the originals, but the joints are tighter so things don’t quite line up. Don’t care! It’ll be covered anyhow by the dryer, but I don’t really mind funny staggered patches like that in wood floors.

Speaking of wood floors, now is the part where I openly admit: I cannot have white painted floors. My god, they are not for me. Some people (Swedes, primarily) seem to have no problem keeping white painted floors looking great for years, and I admire them. But the combination of dogs and a house under construction and frequently using the window in this room a couple years ago as an entrance while Edwin and I tore down additions and worked on restoring the exterior of this side of the house left these floors pretty destroyed and terrible looking. Even before that, they drove me crazy. Never. Again.

But…remember how I mentioned that this renovation is really just about getting the major players in place without draining significant funds, time, or mental energy? I mean that very seriously. For a while I was so hung up on needing to install a tile floor or run the wood flooring from the adjacent room into this one that I would get overwhelmed by the whole project. It would cost a lot! It would take a while! And it’s such a COMMITMENT and I don’t even really have a fleshed out design plan for this space so I don’t even know what I want! And I refuse to let this become a big project so I don’t even really want to have to know what I want! WOE IS ME!

THEN I realized I could actually just re-paint my fucked up white floor and nobody was likely to die as a result! Isn’t that something!

Sometimes reigning it in is difficult for me. Like all the time.

So. I patched a bunch of the larger gauges with Bondo, caulked here and there, chose a color off a paint chip (seriously, why in the world I think I can do this but would never advise anybody else to is beyond me), thoroughly cleaned the floor, and painted it!

Immediate Uh-Oh I Hate This. The color is a color-matched version of Farrow & Ball’s “Setting Plaster” and it’s roughly the color that would result if dried Bondo and a Band-Aid procreated. As a frequent user of both, this was not exactly what I had in mind.

While I stewed on that, I painted the walls and ceiling. I did not exactly think this through—I actually intended to just paint the new wall and touch-up just where necessary in the rest of the room (because restraint!), but once I got into it I realized how much everything would really benefit from a fresh couple of coats (because perfectionism!) so I ended up repainting the whole thing! Had I decided this beforehand I probably would have gone with a different color, butttttttt whatcha gonna do! On the plus side, I still had enough leftover paint from the first time around to eek out two coats! The paint is Clark + Kensington flat finish, and the color was called Casa Blanca but I cannot find it on the internet for the life of me and I think maybe it’s no longer part of the color deck. I’ve had the can for 5 years; who knows.

Unexciting color choice notwithstanding, there’s nothing like a fresh coat of paint. Even at this stage the room felt kind of…pretty?

I repainted all the trim Benjamin Moore Simply White which I’ve used all over the house (and also had the paint already!) and then forged ahead with the floor, figuring worst case scenario I’d just call this the primer and do something else…and then a great miracle occurred! I LOVE it! Context, man. It changes things. By the way, that’s the little teeny closet door for the little teeny closet under the attic stairs. It’s one of the cutest things in the house and makes me happy. Also, the laundry room is going to have its very own little closet! For stuff and things!

So. My quick n’ easy just-make-it-function laundry room got a little more TLC and time than I was even intending to give it, which honestly at this point I was pissed at myself about. BUT! It really feels like a whole new space, and ultimately I think I’ll be happy I went the extra mile for it.

Or, ya know, at least like a few blocks.

Putting the Laundry Room Back Together! published first on https://novaformmattressreview.tumblr.com/