Out with the old, in with the older

It's official. It finally happened. My dreams came true, well at least in part.

We removed the carpet from our entry/living room uncovering our soon-to-be beautiful hardwood floor. In anticipation of the big event, we gave ourselves a preview Friday night before bed, slicing into the floor covering to reveal a beautiful hardwood in the rough.

Friday night festivities
But, before we get to that, let me begin, well at the beginning of our weekend. On Friday night after work I made a mad dash to the yarn store to pick up the last remaining skein of yarn to finish a special project. Afterward I met up with Cynical and we made an appearance at my folks' annual St. Patrick's Day festivities. Donning green plastic hats, listening to Irish music, we dined on a traditional meal of corned beef, potatoes (of course), parsnips, carrots, bread pudding soaked in Irish whiskey, green beer and cabbage.

We slipped out for a play at a the local community-theater, "Five Women Wearing The Same Dress" and headed home where, we couldn't stand it , we had to see what lay beneath our old carpet. We were so pleased and went to bed with visions of glimmering and valuable hardwood.

Quest for hardwood, the whole story
(Don't make something dirty out of that heading, it means exactly what it says, nothing implied.) We awoke early the next morning to begin our quest. My dad, experienced in all things handy and mechanical, joined in destruction. In no time we had ripped away the creamy bane of my existence. After hauling the carpet, unceremoniously, to the transfer station, we returned to collapse on the floor, exhausted from all of the bending and overwhelmed by knowing that we had all that glue to scrape up. After crawling in tandem around the floor multiple times sporting mineral spirit drenched rags and razor blades, we called it a day, cleaned the floor, moved the furniture back and once again collapsed in exhaustion and pride.

The floors are rough still. Previous residents apparently used the floor as a drop cloth, but otherwise, it shouldn't be a big job to sand, stain and coat the floor, especially since we are hiring out the job. I like to joke that it was quality time for us as a couple, moving around on the floor on our knees, looking our worst, chemical odors wafting in the air. The couple that remodels together stays together I believe.

The concert
After managing to mask the smell of mineral spirits and Murphy's Oil Soap, we did some mad dash shopping for more home improvement necessities (as if we hadn't learned our lesson by now), a rug to shield the floor until it is refinished, new vent covers and a few sundry household items. We nabbed some Mexican food and a margarita and went to see Jo Dee Messina.

I love live music and I have to admit that Messina put on a great show. However, I was so very tired that I think I was just glad to sit down for more than 10 minutes and grateful that I didn't have a scraper or hammer in my hand.

Sunday
Sunday came too quickly and we arose with the realization that we had company coming and our house was a literal wreck. We wiped, we washed, we sprayed, we swept, we mopped, we dusted. We came. We saw. We conquered and the house was presentable in time for our guests. I must add that with every wipe, every sweep, we groaned in pain, sore from crawling repeatedly over the floor, squatting and contorting our bodies the day before.

In the midst of this household upheaval, we realized that our dryer had quit. Apparently it's an epidemic, as I learned from Rambling's recent posts, that their household too is experiencing some technical difficulties.

We visited with Cynical's family and after their departure, we loaded up our heaving basket of we laundry in the car and headed to the laundromat. Let me explain that this is perhaps one of my least favorite places. I hate folding my private items in front of perfect strangers. I hate having to pull lint from other people's stuff out of the dryer. I hate that people let their children rummage through your basket of clean clothes. I hate that these same people congregate at the front door of the establishment, smoking and contaminating my Bounce-scented clean clothes.

Whenever we abandoned apartment life and settled into a house many years ago, I swear I declared, "As God is my witness, I will never haul my drawers across town to wash and dry them again." Maybe I spoke too soon.

Cynical, a member of the "judicial system" spied a "client" at the laundry-mat and instead of assisting in the drying, headed to Wal-Mart, leaving me to fend for myself, so I tried to make the best of the situation by knitting a top secret project. Alas, I did make much headway (hint, hint) and finally he came to save/retrieve me. I was a brave, brave girl, folding my private items while the prying eyes of at least six strangers were upon me. And, you guessed it, a little kid suffering from an obvious cold rummaged through my knitting stuff. Gee thanks.

So, now it's Sunday night, Grey's Anatomy is on as I type this and the weekend is gone. I am still exhausted and pleased to be going back to work where I can get some rest.

The first photo is of the dining table at my folks' house. My mother had decorated it completely and was so proud of her creation, so we snapped a shot. The household shots are before and after photographs. I wish the perspectives were better, but you get the idea of the transformation. It's a long room, so I gave you a few angles. Boring, yes, but to us it's pure heaven. I only wish I'd shot the view with the fireplace, maybe next time.