So there was an early knock at the side door this morning. I’d almost forgotten that I’d called Bob (our very accommodating plumber) the other day, hoping he could temporarily hook up our washing machine at its new location in the mudroom (the scene of yesterday’s bloodbath).

Although the space is far from finished, our former laundry area is newly clad in what realtors love to describe as ‘Gleaming Hardwood Floor’ – and since we may have a bit of bad mojo happening here right now, there’s no way I’m about to tempt fate.

The puzzled, tentative look on Bob’s face as he entered our home was soon relieved when we explained the reason for all the blood at the doorway. Personally, I wouldn’t have blamed Bob if he’d turned on his heels at that point and said, “You know, I’m still waiting for a part to come in; I just wanted to drop off this PVC pipe on my way to another job.” But Bob’s a real trooper. Bob is venturing into the ‘Scary Place’ to run plumbing.

The ‘Scary Place’ is our cellar’s crawlspace; and to enter, you have to step up onto a milk crate and heave your body through a hole in the wall that looks like it was created by the blast of a phaser beam. This is where we stash Xmas decorations and other detritus that we’ll probably never look at again, yet seem to hang on to anyway.
If you have the slightest aversion to spiders, or are even mildly claustrophobic, you will never go in there.

I’m convinced that Bob isn’t afraid of anything – not the monsters that apparently live under my house, spiders, or even the fact that the last person I snapped a photo of (James’ young apprentice) suffered horrible consequences less than 24 hours later.

Bob even asked if I wanted a gratuitous ‘Plumber’s Crack’ shot – but I declined, saying that the abundance of people with the wrong body type squeezing into low rise jeans these days has ruined the gag appeal of such photo ops forever.

I’ll bet Fearless Bob has seen some pretty scary shit in his time. Really.

So thanks, Bob, for dusting all those cobwebs out of the ‘Scary Place’ with your head. I’m glad it’s you – and not me for a change – who will be frantically picking bits of web and arachnids out of your hair until you find the closest shower.

We added the final element to the kitchen addition triad this morning when much blood was spilled on the battlefield of home renovating. Not mine, and that’s a bloody good thing, since I’ve contributed a lot of sweat and possibly all of the tears.

I’ll state one of two morals contained in this post first: Do Not Reach Across a Moving Table Saw Blade. Ever.

Our contractor’s apprentice made this unfortunate and frankly, stupid mistake today and was severely cut. James handled the mishap very professionally, and it was obvious his only thought was the well-being of his worker.
I was in the front part of the house with my daughter when I heard A. yell loudly from the mudroom, where the table saw was set up. Before I could even make it to the back of the house, James (who had been laying floor in the bedsitting room) was on the scene, had grabbed a whole roll of paper toweling from off the kitchen counter and had wrapped the man’s arm immediately. In the blink of an eye they were out the door and in the truck (yes, that one) on the way to the hospital, which is thankfully just two short blocks from here. James’ only words were, “don’t worry, I’ll be back later.”

When I looked in the mudroom, I must admit my stomach did a little flip. There was quite a bit of blood on the floor, the rug at the doorway and some large splashes on one of Deirdre’s winter boots, which she’d kicked off at the door earlier in the morning. Since I had to send her off to school in a short time, my first thought was getting the blood off her boot before she saw it. Thankfully, it cleaned up quickly with some cold water. The rug I just rolled up and tossed, and the tiles were sponged up.

Then I looked at the mudroom wall beside the table saw and noticed a straight, horizontal spatter line about eight inches long…shades of RSI: Renovation Scene Investigation. Gulp.

To be completely truthful, when I saw the blood on my very recently painted wall, I kind of went all Lady MacBeth, my only thought being, “Out, damned spot!” I really didn’t think there was much chance it was going to clean up (eggshell finish, you know), but some careful dabbing with only cold water proved me wrong.

Product Tip: The brand of paint we used on this wall was CIL Realife 100% Acrylic Latex Eggshell. I’m mentioning it because John and I actually had a small tiff about this paint when he’d picked it up. I thought, because it’s a fairly inexpensive consumer brand, it wouldn’t perform as well as other paints we’ve used. I have to admit the paint has great coverage (no lap marks) and better scrubbability than just about anything else we’ve used.

The only place where I couldn’t remove the blood was a small drip on the unfinished wood trim around the mudroom door, but since we’re staining it down the road, it won’t be noticeable (and was probably meant to remain). And of course, the snow at the side door looks a bit scary.

Upon his return just over an hour later – after contacting A.’s parents, filling out a WSIB accident report and waiting for a family member to arrive at the hospital – James and I had a short discussion about what had transpired earlier.
He was understandably disappointed, because this injury should NOT have happened had his apprentice been following the absolute basics of what he’d been taught in terms of safe equipment operation.

James also brought up something that I think deserves repeating here: Whenever you hire anyone to do work in your home, make sure they have proper liability insurance and worker’s compensation to cover accidents or injury to themselves or their employees while they are working within your home. Without it, you could be liable under your own homeowners insurance (at least that’s the way it is here in Ontario).
No one needs to have their insurance rates skyrocket because somebody they hired wasn’t using their head while performing their job. Accidents happen every day, everywhere, and what happened in my house today should be all the reminder you need. Hire professionals when required, and get it in writing.

At 6:30 pm (7½ hours after the accident happened) A. came to our door to pick up his walking shoes. His mother was driving him home from the hospital. He’d just had surgery on his arm, and was bandaged from elbow to wrist. So this was more than just a cut.
Please everyone, use commom sense and be careful. This was preventable.

Amazingly, a lot of reno work was accomplished today, but I’m going to leave that post for another time. It’s been a rather long day.