I’ve been dreaming about this week for a long time: the week where I finally had the carpet removed from our house, and put in the hardwood I’ve wanted for so long.
It is Saturday, and I’m sitting with headphones on, and as usual, the details of the reality didn’t quite match my rosy envisionings. I didn’t anticipate that we’d find water damage on the right side of the chimney, requiring an immediate roof repair.
I imagined finished rooms. The bedrooms, hallway, office, and sewing room lived up to the expectation. The foyer just needs quarter-round to finish off the look, and the living room is half-completed. We tore it up with the best of intentions,
but the water damage meant that we had to hold it in a partially-unfinished state.
My toes, when they creep out from under the quilt, touch bare concrete. It’s strange to think that this concrete has been here the entire time, every day, underneath the carpet, but it has been almost 14 years since I’ve seen it. I last saw it the first weekend after we purchased this house, and we sat on the raw concrete while we ate pizza off of our china plates.
This time, we shuffled furniture, learning how hard to push and pull furniture with felt-padded feet. The installers were kind enough to fully finish the side of the room with the entertainment center. It allowed us to set that up, even though the couches continued to sit on the bare concrete.
The house feels different. I knew it would. Without the interruption of carpet, doors shut more easily. My toes find the tiny edges of the individual boards. The house looks simultaneously cleaner, and older. My mind associates carpeting with new houses, and wood floors with old.
The water damage means a sheetrock repair, which means paint. I had expected that we’d only paint the one wall, but the estimate was lower than I expected and accounts for painting the entire foyer and living room, so I will take this opportunity to take the walls a few tints lighter.
Changes are afoot.
My peaceful, sunlit workspace:
Here’s to sprucing up.