So we finished the bear of a task of refinishing our floors last week. Now we just wait for 72 hours for the polyurethane to harden. Sanding ended up being more difficult than expected, though not because of the threatening warnings on the upright sander we rented from big-box-home-improvement-store.
I like that you can read “dismember” but little else.
Apparently on really old floors, if the wood is slightly warped, then the new dummy-proof sanders don’t work so well, since they’re made not to sand through your floor if you leave them in one place too long. Basically, we sanded and sanded and sanded, and barely made a difference. J ended up needing to go back through by hand with a belt sander and do every square inch of the living room over. For real.
But before that point, when he was going over the floor with the upright sander for the fiftieth time or so, he told me that he passed the time by imagining all the feet that would walk across this floor, of the hospitality our home would offer, of the children–biological or otherwise–who would be welcomed in, of the people who would stay with us for a spell (as they say in Kentucky) or forever, of the visitors who would sit at our table in the dining room.
I really liked this image. It’s our future community, imagined on these floors. And here’s the finished product, so you, too, can imagine with me.
(I took a picture after each coat of polyurethane, though in the end you can’t tell a difference in the photos, except for my finger count changing in the bottom left corner. This is after the fourth and final coat. The view is from the kitchen, into the dining room, with the living room and fireplace in the distance.)
What will our community look like over the next few decades we plan to spend in this house? I can’t wait to see.