What a jerk. Always yelling and stuff. I mean, give the poor guy a break. He has to lift rocks using a DINOSAUR'S HEAD!
Speaking of slate and lifting rocks... that's what we've been doing. Laying a natural stone floor is like trying to make a statue out of dry sand. The only blessings in the whole exercise are that it's on the ground, so gravity's not involved, and our space is really small. 32 square feet was all we needed. Which was good, because we broke about 20 square feet worth of tiles.
Here's how it works:
First you have to clean every tile by hand. We did this in the bathtub and then spread them out to dry in (where else?) the dining room.
Then you have to seal both sides with something that smells like nail polish remover. And let it dry overnight. Then you're ready to lay it down. Be sure to wear an old fraternity shirt and look dead sexy when you attempt this. Slate only responds to sexiness:
So after a solid afternoon of buttering the floor and squashing the squares on, it looked like this:
The other fun part about laying the floor is that you can't walk/touch/breathe on it for about 2 days (including the grout setting process). Now, some might wonder... "Where did the Harrises use the restroom while their toilet was out of the equation?" After a few trips to Target to use their facilities, we had a great idea and set up a "Ladies Room" on the deck:
The "Mens Room" was a quaint little corner of the fenceline. Otis didn't take very well to that.
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