Third floor overhaul and painting after the Panleuk babies.

Our third floor is the kitten room… it’s empty because Panleukopenia is deathly contagious– anything that cannot be sterilized must be tossed.

I’ve thrown away everything: rugs, furniture, cat towers… for the things that must stay: the walls, the floor— I’m going to paint; I am afraid that bleach and scrubbing are not enough… I am afraid to miss one tiny germ.

Preparing to paint is an enormous task and I would give anything to skip it, but I must feel certain that it’s safe.

Small problem:
Scrubbing like a tornado is super hard when you literally cannot see out of your face.

Scrubbing turned out to be equivalent to telling my brain– NOW IS THE TIME TO RELIVE ALL OF THE HORROR…. be sure you really GET IN THERE and roll around in THE MOST HEARTBREAKING DETAILS.

This next part is sad. You can skip by going to the next photo.

The tiniest little one… his death was terrible. And it returns to me. The remembering of it is awful. Overnight he faded. When I found him, he was actively dying. It was obvious. But I refused to see. I WILLED myself to BELIEVE that if I could get to the vet in time they could give him something and it would be okay… I drove as fast as I could in my pajamas.

Finding him was the most terrible feeling I have ever known… he had collapsed between the litter box and the heated bed. Overnight he had the worst diarrhea you can imagine. So much brown water. And he always tried to use the box. Always. And that’s where I found him— collapsed near the litter. He could not make it back to the heat. And so when I found him he was cold.

Knowing he was cold while he was dying.
It breaks me.

I wrapped him up and took a microwaved heat pack and talked to him. Stay here. Stay here. We are almost there and they will fix you… The only way that ride could have been worse would have been if I understood what was really happening.

Anyway. My point is that engaging in the aftermath of deep-cleaning brought it back so strongly that I simply could not… below is my tiny man, his sister is here, and his big brother is here.

 

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A post shared by Victoria Elizabeth Barnes (@victoriaelizabethbarnes) on Dec 12, 2018 at 8:22am PST

After the kittens died, Marilyn lined up right behind them, and Paul was staying at his parents while his mom received hospice… it was a lot.

I’m only now feeling ready to get going… I’ve scrubbed about half the molding; I’ve not started on the stair spindles because torture.

The horrible crying is still there but I’m flogging myself through it because the only cure is kittens.

The third floor’s flooring is already painted, (as it was when we moved here)… I had originally wanted to paint the floor white, but Paul talked me out of it.

Yes, white shows dirt. It’s also light and bright. And my favorite thing about this space is how BRIGHT it is.

Here is a photo of white primer on the floor the first time we painted… I loved it white… but Paul… so I compromised on blue… I was into it for about two minutes, after which I hated it and regretted not insisting on what lived in my head.

Previous owners had it painted a dark-wood-tone… and after living with a light floor, I do see the appeal of dark, even though a light bright space is absolutely my favorite thing and I literally just typed the words that I regretted not-white… I still said to Paul about maybe we should consider dark, and he was all, I REALLY THINK WHITE WILL MAKE THE SPACE NICER.

Oh interesting, Paul.

Did we consider finishing the floor back to “real” wood? Yes.

The original random-width boards were painted before us, and probably 57 times before that… the amount of sanding to get all the nooks of paint would be AGGRESSIVE.

If we wanted to finish, we would probably choose to install the same nail-down-2-inch that is in the rest of the house… but that makes no sense to me now that this is a space for wildhooligan fluffdumplings… keeping it a WORKROOM where I can drag the big dog crate, put water dishes without nine layers to protect the floor… all that stuff.

Plus, a bright floor immediately alerts the cleaning crew to the band’s after-hours activities.

This post is not well-written or well-edited but I’m done because I have to go scrub.

What I’m reading:
Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich.

A while ago I mentioned that I was re-reading and re-LOVING Those Who Save Us… Frauen is referenced in her acknowledgments.

The spectrum of ways that humanity responds to the OPTION for compassion… I’ve been thinking about this.

Here is a page of my favorite books.

PS: In case you were thinking how PRACTICAL the previous owners were about choosing paint…  BEHOLD.

Here are before-photos of this house.

 Here is the index of our front porch project… not only was it purple it was also ORANGE.