Floored by a flawed floor

A naughty little Armadillo

From the desert town of Amarillo
Would puff upon a cigarillo
Having satisfied his peccadillo
                (just saying)
Tremendous Tuesday. Well, it was decidedly average until I remembered that the builders had painted the kitchen floor blue. This is not a style statement, the blue spludge dried hard and was all gritty like the edges of swimming pools, to aid adhesion when they put down the latex before the floor can be tiled. I think it'd be good to paint our feet blue, then we'd never fall down!
When I got back they'd poured a pool of dark green über-gunge on the concrete, to bring it up to level for the plywood to sit on. Of course, it was still wet so we can't walk on it and have to do a little dance around the edge to get to the toilet or the back door for egress.

I nipped to the toilet while looking for my shoes to go to gymnastics.

I didn't get my badge so will have to keep practising the Frog Balance which is really holding me back. When we returned, Jof had got home and seen the green gunge, and 2 little footprints that had miraculously appeared in it while we were out.

Personally I blamed foxes, I threw doubt on their status as footprints in the first place and also said the builders must have done it with their size 3 bootless feet.

As far as I'm concerned, it's an insoluble mystery. Jof has commissioned the upstairs toilet which will save a bit of time.

Last night there was a nocturnal toilet visit at 0200 which means finding suitable protective footwear against nails and rocks of plaster, making the 150 yard yomp to the downstairs toilet using only street lamps for navigation, and avoiding all those loose, missing, or squeaky floorboards any intrepid adventurer will likely meet on their travels. I also like to use the manual contact test to detect wet paint.