This is why many people choose to have their floors refinished while they are out of town.  I  am in our bedroom, the only room on the first floor without at least one open doorway, with our three cats and the litter box, where I will remain until the first coat on the floors is dry, a few hours, we hope.  Although when I asked yesterday, “How long until we can walk on the floors?”  Joe said “Until they’re dry.” With a grin.  He likes to yank my chain. He told me “As warm as you keep the house it should be dry by the evening.” We keep it at 65° during the day. Yank, yank.

And this is only the first coat of three.

The cats have decided that our bedroom closet, a new addition by the previous owners, floor to ceiling on one whole wall, with layers of shelves and three sets of folding doors, is a giant cat house.  There are sometimes spectacular crashings as they leap from shelf to shelf.  They spend most of the day there; nights they spend barreling around the nearly empty house, echoing like mad.  So we didn’t have to round them up, just close the bedroom doors.  Robert is in the kitchen, with access to the back door.  He has opened the basement door so he can go out and back in to the bathroom down there.  The front door, across a huge expanse of newly finished floor, is the only one that can be unlocked from the outside.  We are on an odyssey in search of the locksmith to re-key the back door lock into the basement, but that’s another story.

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