I spent the weekend emptying every single stick of furniture and scrap of belongings from my entire first floor.
Why, you may ask.
Why indeed.
I’m not moving, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Quite the opposite
I’m making a dream come true.
When my husband and I first got married, we lived in a lovely, rambling old apartment in Evanston, Illinois, the first suburb north of Chicago. Though our home was in need of an update - and, it turns out, was properly renovated and sold as a condo shortly after we moved out - we loved the crown moldings, the airy rooms, the fireplace, the shutters on the windows, and maybe most of all, the endless hardwood floors.
After two years, when we pulled up our tent stakes and moved to Seattle, we were thrilled to discover how much more house we could get for our money out west. When we viewed this house, where we still live to this day, we loved the similar sense of spaciousness and classic style. But woe unto me, where were those hardwood floors?
To be fair, the hallways and the kitchen areas of our house were hardwood from the get go. But sadly, the family room, living room, library, and dining room were all done up in builder beige carpets.
“Oh, that’s no problem,” perked my real estate agent. “You can always put in hardwoods.”
And since that moment in May, 1986, I’ve dreamed of doing exactly that.
And today, thirty-two-and-a-half years later, my dream is finally coming true.
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Follow every step of my floor restoration and home reinvention journey:
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