Edit, again:  I have the best dad in the world.  He JUST left, after spending the entire day slaving away, ripping up our floors with DB (but D hurt his back, so my poor dad worked even HARDER).  Not many dads would do that, AND he’s coming back for more, tomorrow.

That is love.

Edit:  I just went outside to check out the progress in the kitchen (with the crappy newer – or not century-old – floors).  Way less mess.  I guess it’s only bad when you rip up excessively damaged 100-year old wood.  Did I mention that some of our floor boards have BARK in them?  Yes, bark.  Like no part of the tree went unused.)

There is dust everywhere.  The noise!  The mess!  The noise!  The pain!

I am trying to be grateful for the new floor, but right now I am just super anxious that it won’t get done in time for our friends to visit.  I love our friends, and the LAST time they came, we had the stomach flu and our place was a TOTAL DISASTER.  So I am hoping (??) that this time, we can look like sane, normal people who do not live in a hellhole.

However!  The mess!

I puked this afternoon, so I decided to abandon the coffee-shop trip I’d planned for the day (first time in many weeks I’d puked in the middle of the afternoon, I will say.  Third time this week I’ve puked, which is a good record.  I’m expecting only better this week – WOOT!).  So I have seen, firsthand, the mess.  And the progress.

It is soooooooo slow.

I feel very badly for DB and my dad, who are working their butts off.  It’s now almost 9:00 and they are still sawing/cutting/banging (I have no idea what they’re doing – the dust is really bothering me, actually, so I’m holed up with the cat in our bedroom).

So here, just as an FYI to any internet researchers out there:  replacing an old floor is NOT a piece of cake.  It is messy, gross, and although it is PROBABLY less dusty than refinishing, it is still pretty darn dusty.

Although I do think it was hampered by the 100-year old wood in the hallway (again, that was beyond repair…there was just no way to fix it) splintering into small pieces when it was removed.  Dry much?


Also:  is it “nesting” if I force my husband and father to labor all day fixing the floors?