It's been a process.
Originally I was going to rip up the carpets myself. There is a strange part of me that enjoys ripping up carpets. I think it's because I like to feel like Xena. What is stronger than a woman ripping carpets off her floor?
Ha, trick question. What is stronger is a woman who realizes there is no point in doing that herself on a hot weekend, and exhausting herself, when she could weed the garden and go for a motorcycle ride and do yoga.
Took them less than an hour to rip up the carpet, roll it, tape it, put it in the back of the truck. Of course after that was taking up the tack strips and the nails, which is the real torture of it all.
But I was gone! Kitties in the basement, Auntie C coming to visit kitties, and me off to retreat.
I was amazed when I came home. They were not finished by any means, but holy wooden miracles, my floors are made of a beautiful light-colored oak. And they were so, so smooth.
Except the stairs. They're pine.
I would have loved to keep them light, but there's a lot of
damage -- a patch job with a subtly different kind of wood, the stairs
of pine. One section had to be replaced due to Rufus-damage. So I went
with my original choice.
The up side: Beautiful new floors. A house that feels a bit more like a grown-up owns it and lives there rather than renting it to some sucker. A house that feels more like me.
The down side: My kitchen really, really looks crappy now.