B is apparently getting a man cold, which led to him complaining that "everything in this house is always in a state of not done-ness." Which may be true, but I JUST thanked him Saturday for putting up with my constant projects even though 90% of the time those projects have no effect on him at all. So to say I had no sympathy when he turned around and complained on Sunday would be an understatement.
I could have been done with the floor by Saturday, but B had people over (see, it's really his fault) and I couldn't use the saw. I tried to put down as many whole boards as I could, but we had moved the bed onto the laminate I laid Friday and it was putting too much weight on the edge pieces, so two rows were out of line and I had to take them up, move the bed, then redo them. I don't know why I didn't get done Sunday. I tried. The stars just did not align. I can't even really say I got anything else done, except keeping Baby Girl reasonably happy.
I wasn't actually upset with the way this weekend went until B started complaining about having to live with the bed two feet further over than it should be for three nights. Plus Baby Girl did her typical five-hours-to-go-to-bed thing and he had to complain about wanting his own room and blah blah blah I don't care just shut up and go to sleep.
I sound like a fantastic wife and human being right now, I know. But I get tired of the complaining about things that I deal with all day every day. Like his suffering is somehow worth more than mine because I don't go through life whining all the time.
Anyway. Sorry. Deep breath. Today is a new day, and I will have the bedroom floor done. I only have maybe four rows left. Then we can all go back to having things where we're used to them and we can all shut up about it.