Layers

We're considering replacing our kitchen and dining room floor. One of the top two reasons we want to is because it currently looks like this:



When we started to tear it up so it would be ready for some cool new floor covering, we found this:

Or more accurately, what had the potential to become that, with a fair amount of elbow grease.

First of all, who does this? Who lays cheap vinyl stick-on tile down over beautiful hardwood?

Secondly, why has it taken us eight years to find out that this treasure was under there? We have been living with this ugly, worn-out tile way too long.

There are no good answers, so let's move on. Today I'm armed with heat gun and mineral spirits and am pulling up gross vinyl tile and cleaning up glue. It's a lot of work, and this means loud music is in order. Normally I am one who appreciates peace and quiet, and can think of no better way to spend my day than in a home where there are no other people and I don't have to listen to any noise. At all. Even the hum of a computer drives me nuts. But today I made an exception, because everyone knows loud music helps people work. I chose Dixie Chicks, and I stand by my decision. Things were going well.

When daltonboy called me at lunch time, he wanted to know what all that wailing was in the background. I had to work to convince him that I was actually at home.

Then Lola called from school, and immediately wanted to know what in the world was going on.

"Can't a person listen to a little music once in a while?" Of course they can, but what a person cannot do, apparently, is behave in a way that makes their family members suspect that a pod person has taken over their body.

Must try to find a way to be slightly less predictable. Maybe when they come home and find a different floor in the dining room that will do the trick. Never again will they underestimate the wackiness I am capable of. Back to work.