I remember the day when I discovered one of the large tiles in our dining room floor sitting there crooked as it could be. Somehow I guess I had stepped on it and moved it way out of square. By the time I found the problem, the cement holding it had hardened to the point that there was no way to remove it intact. Out came the big hammer. It was kinda fun banging the tile to shreds after sweating the details of getting them all in place just so, but at the same time in the back of my mind there was the nagging thought that we had already used almost all of the tiles we had. Not only that, the tiles weren’t being made anymore. We had bought them decades earlier for a job that never materialized, and replacements just didn't exist.
When we finished the dining room, we had, besides cutoff scraps, ONE tile left over.
Shown here is the job I’m doing on our front entry. Each tile was precisely laid with spacers, so I know I hadn’t laid the piece crooked. Again, I guess I must have stepped on it and moved it before the cement dried. Dang.
But one thing is in my favor. I don’t have to break the tile out and replace it with one of the leftovers. Since it’s made of stone, it is carvable by chisel. All I have to do is chip away at the edges to make it look square. That’s another experience to add to my collection. By the time we’re finished with this house, I will have had so many experiences in so many different areas that I can probably skip the next two or three lifetimes, and spend some much-deserved time off in whatever heavenly between-lifetimes I will find myself lollilng about in. And while I’m at it, I’ll practice putting sentences together more better.