Log-R-Head

The floor pouring was a great success. What we have is a smooth matte finish resembling honed slate in texture and color. It will be interesting to see what an application of wax will do to the look of it. It's supposed to bring out more of the color and give it a little more shine much like a coat of satin polyurethane will enhance a wood floor. Tomorrow I'll spray it down with water, remove any debris and cover it with a couple layers of the same heavy duty pinkish paper used under hardwood floors. Installation of the first floor windows immediately follows.
One might be thinking at this point: What's with the title? Was there some irreconcilable conflict during the pour? No, nothing of the sort. It's about a log and my head and how, almost impossibly, they got together. Since I really had nothing to do today but oversee the pouring of the floor, I decided that, despite the weather, I'd finish up with the firewood. At the start of the day I had a little more than a cord to stack and split. Because of the rain, I'd throw a pile of wood under the shed roof so I could split and stack out of the weather. What happened is hard to believe, but it went something like this. (I'm not 100% certain.) There was a jumbled pile of logs at my feet, and I stood one upright to be split. I raised the maul, brought it down, made contact with the log, and somehow the end of a log just under the one split flipped up in an action very similar to what would happen if a cat was sitting on one end of a see-saw and an elephant stomped on the other. The log went almost straight up perhaps six or seven feet, and, then, on it's way down landed right in the middle of my head. I saw stars, felt for a lump and came away with a bloody hand. The blood ran down my forehead as I walked briskly to the barn, hand applying pressure. In the end, it's wasn't so bad. No stitches. I could not perform this feat again if I tried for the rest of my life.