The Scarborough Mirror

Now it may well be that my wife and other members of the gentler sex are correct. Men do tend to take an inordinate amount of time to get around to doing household chores.

The ladies think the guy is doing it just to be contrary. But that is rarely the case. Every task must be analyzed thoroughly.

For example, jobs requiring the use of power tools must be approached with extreme caution. The guy must absorb all the instructions regarding the proper use of equipment. In some cases this may take up to three, perhaps four years.

The exception to this is a newly wed male or a fellow who is trying to garner brownie points. In this case the waiting time is condensed and falls in line with the opening day of golf. No golfers fall back on the former time frame.

An example of this is the downstairs bathroom floor in my home.

Four years ago my spouse decided that the vinyl tiles had to go. But they were elephant glued to the cement floor. A herd of frenzied rhinoceros could barely budge them. No matter, she insisted, rip them up and put something pretty down.

My first thought was her hide, but that was not a politically correct choice. So the quest was on for a glue dissolver or whatever to get the tiles up without destroying the floor.

I searched diligently, asked tradesmen I met in pubs what they would use. Nine out of 10 thought draft beer would work.

When I told my wife my quest for the ideal solvent was going to take me to Florida, she rebelled. Her instructions were specific. Look closer to home, move faster or go south and stay there.

Shortly after that she hid my golf clubs and credit cards.

Early last year I managed to put new tiles on top of the old ones. This required the old surface be sanded, roughed up so the glue would hold. The stuff the guy sold me went on like mud and never dried. So the tiles shifted and the glue worked up through the joints.

Sometime last summer she placed a carpet over the mess, knowing I was too busy studying the problem. I know this because she told me every morning at breakfast. Sanity required I change my schedule and tackle the problem quickly.

Last week I got at it and the spade shovel did unseat the second layer of tiles. But the tile glue was still oozing. Several washings with mineral spirits cleaned it off. But that took two days. I tended to get giddy on the fumes.

Of course, the search for appropriate floor covering required I rely on my acquaintances in the various pubs. At the Belfast Inn, the consensus was to put cardboard down and forget it. Folks at the Green Dragon preferred sheet vinyl.

This morning, promptly at 8 a.m., I took action and removed the toilet from its seat. Sadly, my timing was a touch hasty. At 9 a.m. I removed it for the second time and began the prep work for the new flooring.

Any who have tried to install this kind of material will admit it is like dancing with a woman the size of a tractor trailer. Further, it does not back up well. Definitely a challenge confronts the amateur installer.

By midnight it was finished and so was I. None to soon, I might say. But the floor looks good and should last for a decade. It had better. It will be that long before I am ever coerced into doing it again.