Of shoes and socks and sealing wax

I'm sitting up late tonight baking cookies, because I don't, there will not be any cookies to eat tomorrow, and apparently the unfortunate quarantine cookie habit I've developed carries a higher priority than sleep. My little terrier has already had a few words with me about it -- he firmly believes the entire family should go to bed at the same time, with the possible exception of the cat. It seems a little odd, since he enjoys sleeping in later than everyone else in the morning, but apparently evenings are different.

He's delighted with my new work-from-home schedule, partly because he loves having company and partly because it means he can sleep as late as he wants to in the morning, without me poking him to get up and go pee so I can leave for work. He used to be ready to start his day at the crack of dawn, but my little bear is getting old. No more levitating effortlessly straight up, to fly over barriers; now every jump is an effort. He still loves digging holes, though, and I know spring has arrived because yesterday I had to rescue the first garter snake of the season from him.

The bees are still with us; they have stopped milling around looking like a crowd waiting for a big announcement, and have begun bringing in nectar and pollen. DH opines they have decided to stay.
Curiously, they appear to be two different breeds, one larger and darker, and the other smaller and lighter red-brown. DH said he thinks they are Carniolan and Italian. He also informs me they are not different sizes.
Before it died out, our first hive sent out at least one swarm, and we find ourselves wondering if it is their descendants who have now returned.

House work has been continuing, despite my recent lack of attention to the topic, and Thursday, DH finished installing the Douglas fir flooring in the kitchen, pantry and living room. It is beautiful, but his knees may never be the same.

We had ordered a flooring nailer via the great retailer Amazon, in March, but it never shipped, and DH eventually simply canceled the order. So DH made do with a regular nail gun, held at an angle and applied while kneeling. By the third or fourth day, he was starting to question just how much we want wood floors in the rest of the house.

Yesterday he used a sanding machine and spent the entire blessed day sanding the floor. He told me that evening his bones were still vibrating. I suppose, at least, it was a changing from kneeling down shooting nails? The freshly-sanded floor smelt beautifully of fir wood, and the entire house benefited from a fine coating of wood dust.

Today we applied the first layer of the finish; a sealant that turned the pink-blond wood a lovely warm gold. I would show you a picture, but I have been forbidden to post any until the finish is complete.

Warned by the oracle of YouTube, DH made plans to start in the living room and progress through the house to end at the bathroom door, to ensure that if the last of the stain went on poorly, it wouldn't be the first sight to greet us on entry.

This, of course, left us trapped in the bathroom, but DH was undeterred. He set up a ladder outside the bathroom window.

Cleverly, we left our shoes and socks on the front porch, on the opposite side of the house.

We wore fresh, clean socks in the house, to keep from tracking anything onto the raw wood, and progressed along our way, with me pouring on sealant, and DH using a roller on a lethally long handle to roll it into place.

Eventually, we made it to the bathroom, whereupon DH nobly climbed out the window and winced his sock-footed way over the gravel and mud to retrieve our shoes. Never a dull moment in this adventure of ours.