Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.

I’m sitting here chomping at the bit. I’m actually somewhat ahead of deadline—my general state these days. It’s basically because I’m working on this master’s degree; I’m so busy I never have a moment to get off task. It kind of relates to that “flow experience” I wrote about last week.

But that’s not why I’m chomping at the bit. It’s because when I get home today, I’m going to have new hardwood floors in my house. You folks who’ve been reading this newsweekly for a few years know that every year around tax refund time, I do a big project. Last year, my big project got sidelined because my car developed a mechanical issue, and the mechanic shoved his ratchet wrench sideways up my ass, fixing a bunch of secondary issues while leaving the check engine light bright amber.

I got a new mechanic, Kelly Enget, Jr., and I’m quite happy with him. The Jeep is running better than it has in a long time.

My buddy Bill Ring put the floors in. He’s a perfectionist, which drives a guy crazy while he’s waiting for the work to get finished, but whose attention to detail will be fully appreciated for many years to come.

Bill and I are good friends, and he’s put floors in my houses for 14 years or so. I totally respect his craftsmanship. I believe that anything—the cut of a lawn, the placement of a verb, the exterior of a government building—should be judged on its quality, its rightness. A small home can exhibit more quality than a mansion—it’s all about the pride taken in the work. Both Bill’s and Kelly’s work exhibits that character I’m talking about.

Barring some disaster, this floor will be firmly underfoot in that house long after I’m gone. But I’ll be able to walk away knowing that I made the decisions that will give the next residents firm footing.

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