Back to the future, floor-style

It's a statement I've made so many times I can't count. And here I am, back on another project I said I'd never do again -- eight years ago. This time it's my floors.

The carpet was starting to look pretty shabby. With a husband that works in the oil fields and three dogs that shed enough to knit two sweaters a week, I finally decided it was time to go back to hardwood floors.

I'd been thinking about it for some time. One morning, Jeremy and I got up and just did it. We tore back the carpet, removed the padding and took a good hard look at the floor. I knew there was one hole in the floor that would need to be patched. Then I discovered a second hole, both big enough to swallow our Pekingese.

But I didn't panic. We had found some old flooring in the attic that would fill the spots perfectly. The only problem was it was an inch wider than the flooring that was already lying on the floor. We quickly took care of that problem by ripping the boards down to the 2 œ inches we needed.

One hole was filled with a sheet of plywood. The plywood laid unevenly in the hole leaving about an inch to fill on one side and about 1/8 inch on the other. Still not a problem, after I found some old siding in our little lumber storage unit.

The second hole proved to be more difficult. After cutting the five flooring boards and getting them nailed in place, we notice that one end of the hole was about Πinch deeper than the other.

"What do you want to do about this, Mom," Jeremy asked.

"Put a throw rug over it," I told him.

We finally reached the point where we could start sanding. One end of the living room, the end that had once been the kitchen, still held a majority of the linoleum than had been there years ago. We rented a sander from the local rental company and started our task.

Water stains began to appear everywhere. Obviously, the old plumbing in the house wasn't what it should have been.

"What are we going to do about this, Mom," Jer asked again.

And again, I responded, "Put a throw rug over it."

In the center of the living room there is a two-foot section of wood, obviously cut out and replaced in years gone by. It changes the oak flooring on one end of the house to pine on the other.

"What are …," Jeremy started.

"Buy another darn throw rug," I shot back.

By the time I get done buying throw rugs, my living room will once again be fully carpeted and the dogs will continue to leave half their body hair on it. My husband will continue to leave half the oil in Southwest Nebraska on my newly purchased throw rugs -- but, best of all I'll have my wood floors, buried neatly under the dozen or so throw rugs I have scattered around the house.

I've learned one very important lesson through the whole experience. I will never again try to take a carpeted floor back to the original wood.

Next time, Brad can do it.