So, eventually we give in, decide we've had enough, and what's important is to get into our bedroom, and we'll deal with the floor later. Work takes me to DC last Friday, and I end up staying overnight. Traffic ended up with much suckage on the way home, so it took many more hours than I expected (yes, someone decided that it would be clever to shut down all three lanes of 495 and divert traffic to 95, and then ALSO shut down 2 out of 3 lanes on 95).
Meanwhile, Linda is home, trying to set things up so that we can move our stuff into the bedroom on Sunday, when the Boychild can come help with the carrying.
So, the state we're left with is that the floor is "finished," the ductwork has been walled in as requested, the access panel to the back of the tub area (inside the closet) has been replaced by a sheet of thin board all across the wall (not exactly what we'd asked for, but we just wanted to be done). The shelf from the closet had not been recut and replaced, the ceiling fan had been attached but not secured (it tilts all different directions, and since it is a new fan with a different (smaller) base, there's a big hole around it, so the base can't be attached to anything). When we first moved in we tried to strip the wallpaper off the bedroom walls so we could paint - that's how we discovered that there was a pre-drywall wallboard that came with a paper surface that degrades over time and turns powdery, like old newspapers - and we ended up having to put new drywall over top of it. The guy who did this apparently never reattached the anbaric outlets, just sorta fit them in and put the plates over top - so now, post painting, they were hanging by wires.
Linda decided to try to secure them herself.
Linda + screwdriver + live outlet == big sparks.
And the next thing she knew, she was three feet away, sitting on her ass. And where her feet had kicked against the floor, there were two big skid marks where the polyurethane had come up, and where her hand landed, there was about 6 inches of polyurethane that had stretched and buckled.
COMING NEXT: How to fix the (goddamn) floor.