The Floor

I'm putting in a new oak floor in the kitchen and breakfast room, and I've already started. So far, I've pulled up the old floor in the breakfast room, pulled up the subfloor, jacked up and leveled the joists, and put in a new subfloor. During the process, I fell through the joists and cut up both my legs. Cheryl was out of town when this happened, and I could have died if the injuries had been at all serious.

Last night I started pulling up the kitchen floor. I was pleased to find that much of it is rotten and in need of replacement (and not just refinishing). The old subfloor is original to the house (1924) and seems to be in pretty good shape, though I see one bad spot so far. I'm leaving the cabinets in place and cutting around them (instead of pulling them out of the way)--another labored decision on my part. In the early mornings I toss these types of decisions back and forth, as if I have nothing better to think about, which apparently I do not.

Today, there will be more destruction, more ripping up, more nail pulling, more use of my mini sledge hammer and pry bar. It's 9:00 am and I'm jazzed up on coffee. I can really do this.