Construction: Cabinet Installation

A time-lapse movie tells most of the story.

On May 20, 2014, I began blogging about the construction of my new home in Malaga, WA. You can read all of these posts — and see the time-lapse movies that go with many them — by clicking the new home construction tag.

Last week, before heading out to California for a few days, my kitchen cabinets were delivered, unpacked, inspected, and moved upstairs to my living space. Yesterday, the installers came to put them in.

The cabinets are Kraftmaid and very good quality — certainly better quality than the cabinets in my old Arizona home. They feature soft-close drawers and doors. (Oddly, I had a problem remembering to close cabinets in Arizona. That won’t be a problem here because my cabinets are actually fun to close so I’m not likely to forget.)

Installing the Cabinets
The installer and his helper fine-tune the position of one of the cabinets.

The install went pretty smoothly, with most of the work done by the boss and an assistant while the boss’s wife looked on, spent a lot of time searching for the right size screws, and chatted with me. Two or three cabinet doors need to be replaced due to cracks; the installer will take care of ordering the replacements, which are free. In addition, the bottom end cabinet with rounded shelves appears to be the wrong wood — that’ll also be replaced for free.

Here’s the time-lapse:

I should mention that I went with a professional installation for a few reasons. First, they’d handle the replacement of any defective parts. Second, they’d get the installation done right the first time. And third, while I don’t mind learning how to wire my home, I certainly have no desire to learn how to install cabinets.

Cabinets
Here’s how my kitchen looked by the end of the day. The rustic hickory finish I chose is full of “imperfections” that add character to the kitchen. And yes, there will be a breakfast bar on the camera side of that kitchen island. My stove will go between the two cabinets there.

Today, they’ll install the cabinet for the area over the fridge and will likely install the crown molding and a spacer under the microwave shelf. They’ll put on drawer pulls and door handles when they return to replace the damaged pieces, probably in about two weeks.

In the meantime, everything is set up and ready for the next part of the kitchen installation: appliances. I expect them any day now. The countertop folks will come in about two weeks to measure for their “template”; the countertops will be installed two weeks after that. By then, I should have the rest of the kitchen done.

Things are certainly moving forward nicely!

And I know I didn’t blog about the insulation, drywall, and painting. I’ll do that shortly; there’s a lot to show and tell!

Washington Healthplanfinder FAIL

When automatic payments go seriously wrong.

I usually get email while traveling and generally keep up with anything important. Although I wasn’t surprised to get an email from Washington Healthplanfinder, my health insurance agent here in Washington State, to say that my monthly payment had been automatically withdrawn from my account, I was surprised at the amount:

Withdrawal Confirmation

Note the amount: $1,116.15. My monthly premium is $375.14.

I immediately called Washington Healthcarefinder. After pressing numbers to navigate through four different menus — just to ask a billing question — and waiting five minutes on hold, a typical script-reading customer service representative answered. I told her about the problem. After asking for various information to assure I was who I said I was, she read a script that told me that emails had gone out in error. She asked if my bank had processed the withdrawal.

I admitted I hadn’t checked, and whipped out my iPad to check with my bank’s app while she was still on the phone. The transaction had not been processed.

She read another script that assured me that it wouldn’t be processed. That it was just the email that was an error. I suggested that if this was a widespread problem that an email should go out to notify subscribers of the error. She didn’t have a script for that so she didn’t have anything to say. I hung up.

Two days later, on Wednesday, I got an email from my bank confirming a withdrawal from Washington Healthcare Finder:

Withdrawal Confirmation

Note the amount: $1,116.15.

I just about went ballistic. I called the bank to have the charge reversed and was told that I’d have to fill out a series of forms to get the process started.

Washington Healthcare Finder’s offices were still closed that early, but later in the day, I managed to get yet another idiotic, script-reading customer service representative on the phone. I was not kind, especially when her script informed me that the process could take several days while their accounting department researched the problem. There was lots of time wasted on hold, which further pissed me off. When she got back on the phone, I told her that their error had cost me more than an hour of my time with two calls to them and one to my bank. I asked if I would be getting compensated for my time. She said they wouldn’t compensate me for my time, but they’d “compensate me for the overcharge.”

“That’s not compensation,” I roared over the phone. “That’s a refund for your freaking error!”

Because she obviously didn’t understand the difference, she had nothing to say. I hung up.

But not before I demanded that she turn off automatic payments for my account.

Later yesterday morning — yes, two days after the initial email about the incorrect amount went out, I got this:

Notice of Error

Is there any way they could have screwed this up more?

I’m fortunate in that I had enough money in my account to cover this unexpected withdrawal. Other people who routinely carry smaller checking account balances would likely bounce checks to other payees, setting up a nighmarish experience of explaining the problem for every bounced check and getting overdraft fees reversed. Hours of a person’s time could be wasted on this.

I recently set up automatic withdrawals for a number of organizations I do business with. It should make it easy to pay on time without any additional effort. But I’m going to re-think that strategy and make my payments through my bank’s billpay feature. This puts absolute control in my hands and would certainly prevent something like this from happening again.

Toggling the Religion Switch

Hypocrisy and cafeteria-style belief systems.

Bible Quote
The way I read this is that you should stay humble and let God do the worrying. When God feels like it, He might make things better for you. Because He cares. Is that an accurate interpretation?

The other day, a friend of mine went into “Bible mode” on Facebook. He’s done this before, not long after I met him at a Meetup outing. I didn’t know him well back then and I just assumed he was a religious person. (Although I’m an atheist, most of my friends are believers in one form or another.) Then he broke up with his long-distance girlfriend and, six months later, was living with another woman in town. Bible mode ended abruptly. But it’s back now, and rumor has it that he’s engaged to yet another woman he met online and has seen in person only twice.

Whoa. (Honestly, I can’t make this shit up.)

“Bible mode,” in case you’re wondering, is my term for when a person starts posting social media updates that either quote the Bible or refer to Bible verses. I find it odd in general — almost as if they’re advertising their belief system — but have come to expect it of certain people, such as a young earth believer and a biblical scholar I know. It sort of makes sense for these people — who obviously hold deeply ingrained religious beliefs — to refer to the Bible in their daily life. But I find it extremely odd when it’s done by someone who normally seems to have little regard for the Bible, Ten Commandments, or the moral principles set forth in the Christian denomination he purportedly follows. You know: moral rules about things like adultery, sex before marriage, and lying.

Wikipedia defines hypocrisy as:

Hypocrisy is the claim or pretense of holding beliefs, feelings, standards, qualities, opinions, behaviors, virtues, motivations, or other characteristics that one does not actually hold. It is the practice of engaging in the same behavior or activity for which one criticizes another. In moral psychology, it is the failure to follow one’s own expressed moral rules and principles.

The way I see it, if you pretend to be a devout, Bible-quoting Christian but have cheated on your wife or screwed women you aren’t married to, you are a hypocrite.

Unless, of course, you believe that Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins and therefore you can commit as many sins as you like as long as you’re sorry for them. Jesus has you covered, right?

You know, the Christian “Get Out of Jail Free card.”

This particular person’s flicking of the religion switch bothers me a lot and I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve seen the pattern — he turns on Bible mode when he’s hanging around a certain group of people. I’m thinking that he’s toggling the religion switch to the ON position to better fit in with these people. You know — to show that he’s a card-carrying member of their club.

Whatever.

I think it’s a shame that people have to pretend to be someone they’re not just to maintain certain friendships. If you can’t be true to yourself, you can’t be true to anyone. Who wants to live a lie?

Of course, maybe he really has “gotten religion” again. And maybe he’ll keep it this time. Turn over a new leaf. Get married, stay faithful to his new wife, attend church weekly, raise more children, and study the Bible with his family. Maybe the verses he’s quoting from the Bible will actually guide his life. Maybe he’ll remember and hold sacred all ten of the Commandments. Maybe he’ll be a “good Christian,” who actually follows the teachings of Jesus Christ.

Or maybe he’ll be another example of a “cafeteria-style Christian.” You know: the kind who picks and chooses from church doctrine to live his life the way he wants, no matter what his church of choice says he should do. And figures that just going to church and quoting the Bible will give him enough creds to get into heaven.

Of course, I don’t understand why we need organized religion or a book full of parables to guide our lives. George Carlin said it succinctly when he boiled down the Ten Commandments to just two. Other people have summed it up with just one: “Don’t be a dick.” Anyone who understands the difference between right and wrong should be able to live a good, morally sound life without worries about violating some church doctrine or pissing off an all-knowing God. But that’s my belief. Apparently, it isn’t widely shared in this world.

But what I’d really like to see is an end to religious and moral hypocrisy and the hiding of a person’s real self behind Bible quotes. Because seriously: who do you really think you’re fooling?

Communication Failure

Someone’s communication skills need work.

This morning, while going through my email, I found two messages sent three minutes apart by the same person using the contact form on the Flying M Air website.

4:50 PM:

I have 3000 hours helicopters and airplanes. Loving opportunity to meet with someone

4:53 PM:

I have 3000 hours and helicopters and fixed wing I would love an opportunity to speak with someone.

The form offers a place for the person trying to contact me to include his name and phone number, which he did.

My questions:

  • If he wanted to talk to someone and it was within normal business hours, why didn’t he just pick up the damn phone and call? “Speaking” means either using the phone or arranging a face-to-face meeting. It doesn’t mean sending an email message. The contact form page includes both of Flying M Air’s phone numbers, right at the top under the heading “By Phone.” It seems to me that although he said he would “love an opportunity to speak to someone,” he had that opportunity then and still has it right now. In fact, anyone with a phone has that opportunity when the phone number is right there in front of their face. Maybe his phone doesn’t dial out?
  • What did he want to talk about? He’s a pilot — probably not a potential client. What would motivate me to call him? He never said what he wanted to talk about. And no, I’m not interested in calling pilots I don’t know to chat about flying and careers with them. Read this blog. Don’t you think I’m a little busy with other things? Don’t you think I’m entitled to spend my time on things that are important to me and my business?
  • By Email
    This paragraph appears right above the contact form this person used to email me.

    Did he want to talk to someone about a job? If so, he also managed to miss the Help Wanted link right above the email form. If he had clicked that, he would see that Flying M Air is not hiring pilots unless those pilots can come to Washington with a helicopter for a month starting in June to dry cherries. And if he had a helicopter, why wouldn’t he mention that?

So what am I supposed to do? He says he’d like the opportunity to speak to someone. He has it. He didn’t ask me to call. He didn’t tell me what it was about. He didn’t give me any reason to get in touch with him. I’m not even motivated to answer his email message.

And yes, I’m ranting. How could I not rant when I’m faced with such bullshit?

Pergo Pergatory

My false start on a flooring purchase.

I have been thinking about flooring for my new home for a long time. A very long time. This month was the month to finally make a decision — and a purchase.

What To Buy?

I know what I don’t want:

  • Carpet. I hate it. ‘Nuff said.
  • Tile. It’s a pain in the ass to lay and, since my subfloor is plywood, I’d have to lay hardy backer under it. So that’s an added step with an added expense. And I hate scrubbing grout.
  • Vinyl. Any kind of vinyl: sheets, tiles, etc. Yes, I know vinyl has come a long way since the 1980s when it looked like cheap crap or the inside of a school, but I just can’t wrap my brain around living in a place with vinyl floors.

I know I wanted my floors to either be wood or look like wood and be durable enough to last 15 years or more without any problems at all. I also wanted it to feel like wood — you know, that textured feeling that wood sheets can have? That left hardwood, bamboo, laminates, and something engineered, like Pergo. These were all available with snap-together installation to create a “floating floor.” No nails or glue. Wood-like planks simply fit together over padding to create a floor. Lots of my friends had gone with one of these options and they all raved about what they’d chosen. Seemed to be a safe bet.

But which to choose?

I had a budget for the floor, which was determined not only by my available cash but the simple fact that I was building a living space over a garage and spending $6/square foot for flooring was an investment I’d never get a return on. That pretty much knocked hardwood and bamboo out of the picture.

The great thing about being single is the fact that you can make decisions without having to argue or compromise with another person.
Of course, that also means that if you have trouble making a decision, there’s no one with a vested interest to help you.
Fortunately, I’m usually good at making decisions.

I must have looked at flooring at 10 different places, including online. (I’m sorry, but can’t imagine selecting a floor online where you can’t touch and really see what you’re getting.) Prices were all over the map, from 99¢/square foot to well over $4/square foot. To make my decision-making process easier, I decided to set my spending limit at $3/square foot including tax and padding. Then I went to Lowe’s, where I could put the purchase on my zero-balance Lowe’s credit card at 0% interest for 12 months, parked myself in front of the flooring displays, and tried to decide what to buy.

Color was a definite issue. I didn’t want the floor to clash with my kitchen cabinets. Or my red sofa. Since the cabinets are light, I figured I’d go dark. The high-ceilinged rooms with their light paint and Navajo white ceilings are big enough to support a dark floor. It would make a good contrast.

At least that’s how my reasoning went.

In the end, I choose a Pergo Max laminate with the padding already attached. It was $2.49/square foot, which was under my budget, even after adding sales tax. Because the padding was attached, I didn’t have the cost or bother of dealing with sheets of padding. The install should go easy enough, especially if I had a friend who’d recently done an install stop by and give me pointers on the first day.

Manor Hickory“Manor Hickory” is a very dark shade of brown with near-black highlights.

The color? Something called Handscraped Manor Hickory. I thought the dark highlights would look good with end tables I still needed to buy. The red sofa had looked good with black furniture and, in the back of my mind, I thought I might go with black again.

At least that’s how my reasoning went.

I did the math on how much I needed to buy: 70 boxes. I got a sales person to help me find the boxes in stock. Amazingly, they had enough for my needs. I instructed the sales folks to put 70 boxes on shrink-wrapped pallets for me. I’d pay up front, bringing one box with me for the cashier to scan, and then meet the loaders in the Lowe’s outdoor lumber yard with my truck.

I also bought a bathroom vanity and a countertop with a sink.

Bringing It Home

Truck Loaded with Pergo
There are several reasons why I have a big truck. This is one of them.

Out in the lumber yard, they loaded my truck with the two pallets of Pergo and tucked the vanity into the space between them and the fuel transfer tank I have in back. We put the countertop with sink on top of the fuel tank. Then I took out some ratchet tie-down straps and secured them in place.

The Lowe’s guys figured that each pallet weighed about 1500 pounds. I’m not sure how true that is, but if it is true, I probably had about 2 tons of stuff in the back of my truck. As I drove away, I felt the weight. But the 1-ton Ford diesel handled it well.

At home, the drywall guys were working in the bay where the truck lives. I’d already decided that I’d back it in for the night and worry about off-loading it the next day. I was having a party that night, a celebration with friends on the completion of the drywall and painting of my living space upstairs. I had lots of other stuff to do before I worried about offloading the flooring.

Later, after the drywall guys had left, when I had a minute of spare time, I went to open the garage door. Surprise, surprise! The drywall guys had made the ceiling too low in that bay — long story why — and I couldn’t get the door open more than two feet! Fortunately, there was no rain in the forecast. The truck would stay outside.

Offloading

The weather was beautiful on Saturday and I spent much of the day doing stuff outside in the yard.

I think I was secretly dreading unloading the truck. Because I didn’t have a forklift — I don’t have everything, despite what some of my friends think — I’d have to offload the truck one box of Pergo at a time. And I know from experience that no matter where I put it, I’d have to move it. (Ask me about the pavers one day, okay?) So I wanted to put it on something that could be easily moved. That meant a dolly.

I already had a home-made dolly. My bathtub was sitting on it. I needed another one.

I had a very nice pallet outside that I’d asked the drywall delivery guys to leave behind. It was definitely large enough to hold one pallet of Pergo. I figured I’d make a dolly out of that and then make another dolly out of the pallet the first pallet of Pergo was sitting on. I’d leave one dolly of Pergo down in the garage and put the other one upstairs so it would be ready for installation.

All I needed were heavy duty caster wheels.

I took my Jeep to Home Depot. Two hours later, I drove away with it full of stuff, including 8 350-pound capacity wheels and the hardware I needed to fasten them to the bottom of pallets. Those were the most heavy-duty wheels I could find. They’d have to do.

Building a Dolly
Building a dolly is as easy as attaching good wheels to the bottom of a heavy-duty pallet.

Finished Pallet Dolly
My finished pallet dolly.

Offloading Truck
I stacked the boxes of Pergo on the dolly.

On Sunday morning, I put on some music, gathered some tools and got to work. It didn’t take long to turn that pallet into a very heavy duty dolly. The wheels were great and rolled smoothly on the clean floor, which I’d hosed out the day before.

I cut open the shrink wrap on one pallet of Pergo and started offloading the boxes, one at a time, and placing them on the pallet dolly. I don’t know what they weighed — maybe 30 pounds each? Not too heavy to lift, but not light, either. The length was perfect for me to grab them from the ends. I could feel the muscles in my arms getting a good workout.

Every time I finished a layer of Pergo, I’d move the dolly around a bit to see how well it rolled. After four layers, it was definitely feeling sluggish from the weight. But I suspected it would hold the entire pallet load. Time would tell.

An Unfortunate Realization

I was almost finished offloading that first pallet — I think I’d done the first four stacks — when I realized that one of the boxes was wet on top. The truck was parked in such a way that condensation from my roof had dripped down on it. I grabbed the box and got a rag to dry it off. The water was under the plastic wrap. I needed to open it to dry it properly.

And then I got a brainstorm. Why not take this box upstairs and lay it out to get a good idea of what it might look like on the floor?

A smarter person would have done this first, before offloading 28 30-pound boxes of flooring. Just saying.

Dark Floor
I began laying out floor planks to check the color. What was I thinking? Of course it was too dark!

I brought it upstairs, dried the top piece, and set it down on the floor. It looked horrible. Way too dark.

I was in denial. It couldn’t be that bad.

Ten minutes later, the entire box was laid out in the corner of my living room. I didn’t like it. I realized that it was almost the same color as my dining table and chairs and just a tiny bit darker than my bedroom set. My furniture would blend into the floor.

I stayed in denial. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. I needed a second opinion. I called my neighbor, Kathy, who lives at the winery a half mile down the road. She was also a house painter who did a lot of decorative work. She’d have a good idea of whether it was okay. She was out pruning grape vines with her husband but promised to come in about 20 minutes, when she needed a break anyway.

She came and climbed the stairs with me. The first thing she said was, “You’re going to see all kinds of dust on that.” I’d already had that warning from other people when I mentioned wanting a dark floor and I knew she was right — it had gotten dusty just from being laid out. But I had a Roomba vacuum robot and wasn’t very concerned about that. It was the color that bothered me.

Although she didn’t seem to think it was bad, by that time I’d already decided that it was too dark. She agreed with me that if I didn’t like it now and didn’t change it, I’d regret it. I thanked her for coming and watched her drive away.

Shit. Back to square one.

Return and a New Choice

I loaded all the boxes of Pergo back onto the pallet in my truck and, since I couldn’t shrink wrap them, used the ratchet tie-downs to keep them together on the pallet. I wiped down each plank in the open box, stacked them neatly in the box, and put the box in the front of my truck. Then I loaded up Penny and drove back to Lowe’s.

Of course, I was a mile down the road when I realized I’d forgotten my cabinet sample. I made a u-turn, came home, got it, and left again. (I forget something I need about 25% of the time that I leave home and usually remember it before I hit pavement.)

One thing you have to love about Lowe’s and Home Depot is how easy they make it to return things. I brought the open box and my receipt to the counter and let them offload the truck and count the boxes while I went back to the flooring display to make a new decision.

Tidewater Oak
I ended up with Tidewater Oak.

Fortunately, a knowledgeable salesperson appeared. With her help, we narrowed it down to three options. One did not include the attached padding, so I knocked it off the list. The other was a tiny bit too light. The third one seemed just right: Tidewater Oak. Although it didn’t have that “handscraped” texture I liked, it did have some woodlike texture. And it looked just like the hardwood floor I always wished I had.

Fortunately, they didn’t have any in stock. I say “fortunately,” because I also had to pick up a special order at Home Depot and I would never fit it in the truck with the Pergo. I placed my order and was told it would arrive within a week. Then I went back to the return counter, signed a form to get a refund, and went to the cashier to pay for my special order. Done.

At nearby Home Depot, I picked up the acrylic block walls for my shower stall, a shower pan, and a new miter saw. But that’s another story.

More To Come

So that’s the story of how I almost got my flooring. Obviously, there’s more to come when the new floor arrives and I start laying it. Stay tuned.