I’m writing this from my living room. Sure, it’s where I usually write but today I have no choice. I applied the last coat of stain at 7:00 PM and I can’t get to my bedroom for another hour or so. And Prudie is locked up in there. Hope she’s all right in there!
Oh, I also can’t get to either of the bathrooms so I had to drive to the gas station to pee. It reminds me of when we were first working on my house and my water wasn’t on yet. I don’t miss that.
We went out bright and early this morning to pick up the sander. I reserved it for two days but hoped we could get it all done in one. My dad did the majority of the sanding and we got the whole room (minus the edges) done in just a couple of hours so instead of paying for two days ($80) I only had to pay for a half day ($25.) Sweet!
Even my dad was impressed by how good the floors looked when the sanding was done. That burn is tricky though. After some steps it looked like it was going to be easily covered up and after other steps it looked worse than ever.
Henry hated the sanding. It was loud and threw up sawdust all over the whole house. I gave him a bone and he found a little peace in his little dog cave.
After spending hours with our faces in the floor hand sanding my mom and I finally decided that we were ready to stain. My mom vacuumed the floor while I gathered mineral spirits and some towels. We wiped the whole floor down and let it dry.
Then we applied a pre-stain conditioner. That dang burn! The conditioner really made the floor golden but it was supposed to reduce blotchiness when staining so we went for it.
I’ve been having a lot of scary moments since we put the stain down. I’m kind of freaked, actually. It’s blotchy. I did go back over the whole floor and put down a thicker layer of stain over the light areas but it’s still not perfect.
I’m trying to keep this picture of the floor before it was stripped and sanded in my mind. It wasn’t pretty. It was rough and dry and grimy and gross and the color wasn’t even. I’m working on making peace with my imperfect refinishing job by reminding myself that if I wanted perfect floors I should have put down Pergo. (I don’t want that.)
I’m watching a lot of Rehab Addict to make myself feel better-her floors are never perfect either.
This floor is 107 years old. The forest these trees came from is probably a strip mall now. I’ve (and my parents) shown this floor more love in the last week than it’s seen in years so I’m going to embrace it. As my dad says, if you were 107 years old you’d have some scratches and an uneven complexion too!
I’m off to see how my second coat of stain is drying and hoping I can get to the bathroom. And my cat. And the shower. And the q-tips. And my bed.
Poly goes down tomorrow! Stay tuned.