Suddenly rare flooring and Napa home repair

Generally speaking, I believe myself to be a calm, rational person. I suspect most people think that about themselves, YouTube videos of public freakouts notwithstanding. 

But like so many, I recently found myself at the business end of some pointed emotions — anger, disappointment and despair — at this most joyous-slash-stressful time of year. 

I am, of course, speaking of home repair season. 

I moved into my townhome, just off of Trancas, in June 2022, a few months after I started at the Register. It’s a wonderful complex with great neighbors in a lovely location. Like many homeowners, though, there were numerous things I immediately wanted to change and fix: the noisy fan in the bathroom downstairs, the ugly flooring, the Formica countertop from the Carter administration, the popcorn ceiling, and on and on and on … 

I did replace the flooring, repainted the trim, and got considerably more functional kitchen appliances. But I had my share of PTSD from the experience as well: the contractor I hired to do my floor didn’t entirely seem to know what he was doing, and part of it had to be redone. Some of the plumbing was a bit off and had to be rejiggered. The painting got a bit sloppy at times. Not a big deal, probably, for most folks, but it steamed my Type A personality a bit. 

I got over it, and life continued apace. 

But then there was more. I had a leak under my new dishwasher that warped some of the new flooring in the kitchen. The seal on the back sliding door broke down, and seeped into the flooring on that end of the home. I got a puppy who, ahem, made his mark on some of the carpeting upstairs. Oi.

Getting some of these chores off the list before 2024 expired seemed like just the right thing to do. Fortunately, I had listened to the advice and wisdom of homeowners before me and didn’t return all of the extra flooring I had purchased. Unfortunately, I had only one box, not nearly enough to do the jobs I needed.  

The irony here is that, not so long in the distant past, I had no fewer than 10 boxes of that flooring, and it took me two tries to return it. During my first attempt in August 2022, I was told I couldn’t return the stuff because, according to their systems, I had never purchased it in the first place. 

They were decidedly nonplussed when I showed them the invoice; apparently Lowe’s had forgotten to charge me. After being escalated from the return clerk to the flooring supervisor to the assistant manager, I was shooed away and told I’d get a call. I loaded the boxes back into my Mini (no small feat, that) and returned back to Napa, deeply confused. 

About a week later, I got a call from the regional manager who apologized for the mix-up. He said he would have to charge me (rats), but that someone would come by to pick up the leftover flooring, saving me a second trip. It all worked out, I suppose, but I really, really wish that I had kept another box or two.

Those who have dealt with home repair probably know what’s coming next. That once plentiful flooring – pallets stacked to the sky – had become rarer than a reservation at the French Laundry. I called the Lowe’s in Vallejo; no dice. Ditto with the one in West Sacramento and the Home Depot in Napa. None of this particular flooring could be purchased at any price in the state – or perhaps this dimension. 

Despairing, I plugged in the model number from my invoice into Google. Perhaps Ebay? Etsy? Some Dark Web purveyor of building materials who I’d have to meet under the Butler Bridge at midnight?  

But, then, a hit! It wasn’t entirely clear it was an exact match, but the brand and the size was right, as was the color – as far as you can tell from an online image. The seller was an outfit called Super Arbor, which calls itself a “technology company” based out of Palo Alto. The San Mateo County city is famed for having a number of resident geniuses, so perhaps one of them found a way to source that apparent Holy Grail of flooring: Bruce Natural Woods Hickory 5-in W x 3/8-in of varying length. 

The price, with shipping, was a bit more than I originally paid, but no matter. Perhaps it would all work out after all.  

The order form said I would get a separate email when the materials were ready to be shipped, along with a delivery date. It also noted I wasn’t charged, and a quick look at the website indicated I wouldn’t be until the order was fulfilled. Great.  

But, well, no. After about a week I still hadn’t heard when I would get the flooring. I sent an email, as one is instructed to do with questions. Nothing. I sent another a few days later. Again nothing. I then decided to call. The phone tree directed those with orders under $500 to send an email. I ignored this and left a voicemail anyhow. 

Still no response. I Googled Super Arbor again, noting (for the first time, alas) the company had a number of one-star reviews, many with similar issues. I added my own missive, noting I had been waiting for about a week-and-a-half to find out when my stuff might possibly be coming, that I had reached out three times and, so far, had been ignored. 

This must have hit a nerve, as I received a call a couple of hours later. The woman I spoke to, who was quite polite, said shipping times vary greatly, and that it sometimes can take up to two weeks to even get an idea of when something might be available. She said I would get a call the following day with an update. 

It’s now been another week without any further details. Sigh. 

Perhaps the universe is trying to teach me a bit of patience, as all of the worrying and striving (and sitting on hold) has not moved up any timelines. So I’m going to let go, relax and enjoy the rest of the holiday season. The chores will remain, but time with family and friends is fleeting, and there’s no reason to have outside frustrations sour them in any way. 

So, in that spirit, I wish everyone a wonderful holiday season. May your wait times be short, may your needed materials be in stock, and may your returns be accepted without friction. See you in 2025!