This weekend, Amanda and I did some home improvement work.
See, our new apartment has what the Craigslist ad called "bonus rooms." Apparently, "bonus room" means "enclosed patio with disgusting carpet on the floor". The upstairs bonus room is covered in astroturf. Though we initially thought that it was hideous and had to change, it turns out that our cat loves it and scratches on it day in and day out. So, since she loves it and it seems to keep her from scratching up our furniture, the astroturf gets to stay.
The downstairs bonus room, on the other hand, had this hideous rust-colored (rust-coloured for my British readers) carpet lining it and was, oddly, the only room in the house with carpet. In a house of all hardwood floors, who carpets the patio?
Anyway, one of Amanda's requests when we moved in was to do something else with the carpet. So, this weekend with the guidance of Amanda's parents, we tiled the downstairs bonus room.
And, goddamn if today I ain't sorer than a badger with a wasp nest in his behind. After spending two days crawling around on our hands and knees laying tile and grouting it, we're every kind of stiff, sore, and achey known to Man.
Now Amanda and I have been walking around our apartment like Balki and Cousin Larry after working out too much to impress the upstairs flight attendants.
The bonus room does look great, though. It looks like a room you want to use now instead of something you wish wasn't attached to the house. I'm happy with it, and as Amanda said, whenever we have our house-warming party for this place, we've got some serious bragging rights now.