The next week or two is going to suck, audibly. The wood for the floor was delivered today, followed by a visit from the Floor Guy. Who says the schedule is not looking good for a wrap-up this week. The wood needs to acclimate to our microclimate before it can be installed, and then it has to do some other things, and sanding is involved, and the bottom line is, if we want it done right — at this point I always want to jump up and say, “No! Do it wrong!” — it’ll probably be next week before we can reclaim our family room and living room, which is currently serving as a storage room for all the family-room furniture.
Which means we’ve been driven upstairs for our living space. The good news: Alan hooked the cable box up to the primitive tiny upstairs TV, so we can all watch “American Idol” tomorrow night gathered on our bed like a heap of puppies. Yeah, I know it sounds fun, and it probably will be.
At least the kitchen is still operable. When we did our kitchen floor in Fort Wayne, I thought I’d explode if I had to eat another takeout meal.
Because Alan moved the cable box, I got to see “The Sopranos.” Discuss.
I love the way David Chase keeps slammin’ the truth in our faces. All those weeks building sympathy for poor Vito Spatafore, taking his first tentative steps out of what had to be a very large walk-in closet, making his new home in Gaytown, N.H., and then pow — he reminds us that, at heart, like all of these characters, Vito’s just a murderin’ piece of shit. Tony, self-described “strict Catholic,” cheats on his wife, kills his nephew’s fiance, spreads evil like a slug trail… but objects to a homosexual business associate. Carmela, ditto strict Catholic, goes over to bring her destitute friend a surprise birthday celebration, wearing a fur coat and driving yet another in a long line of fancy cars purchased with ill-gotten gains. And then leans on her husband for not leaning on the building inspector harder, so she can build her spec house with substandard materials.
Sooner or later, everyone will get what they deserve. (Bobby Bacala already has, obviously.) I used to think the series had to end with Tony dead. Now I’m thinking it has to be worse. One of the kids has to go. Obviously, it’s A.J., but maybe Meadow, too. We shall see.
Mitch Harper at Fort Wayne Observed reports — and I think he’s correct — that my ex-newspaper, The News-Sentinel, is the only one of Knight-Ridder’s Dejected Dozen to have no reported or rumored buyer. I will repeat what I learned in my final years there, which may be the most important thing I learned there: Never say it can’t get any worse, because it can always get worse. Al.Ways. And probably will. Not that not having a buyer is the worst thing in the world — I doubt McClatchy will leave them beside the road like a foundling — but man, it’s gotta be humiliating. Psychological wounds are the worst.