Some of you know that Kyle and I bought a house about a year ago and since we’ve bought the house, I’ve been wanting to rip up the carpet. I was fairly certain there was decent hardwood underneath. I had peeled up the carpet near the vents but I couldn’t get a really good look at the floor without damaging the carpet. Naturally, I wanted to start tearing it out immediately. Kyle didn’t think that was a good idea. It’s usually a sign that something’s a bad idea if Kyle’s the one putting the brakes on. So, for an entire year, I’ve been very patiently and very quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) hating the carpet.
Kyle was putting it off because he thought he was going to have to do most of the work. It’s not an unreasonable worry. The man has a lot of construction experience and he knows what kind of work this project entails. Also, he knows me and he knows sometimes when things get difficult I throw myself down on the floor or couch or whatever is nearest, claim my legs are broken, and refuse to move. And that maybe I’m also dying. And the only cure is for someone to bring me a Diet Coke. And red curry and/or possibly a burrito.
It’s just as charming as it sounds. I don’t blame him for wanting to put off the project.
However, the situation was quickly becoming untenable. One of the dogs is thirteen and semi-incontinent. The other is shedding so much I’m surprised he’s not completely bald yet. It doesn’t matter how often I vacuum, shampoo and spot treat the carpet. I cannot keep it clean and really, I feel my energies are better spent elsewhere. (For instance, I’ve just discovered how much I love Portal. I also really like to sleep. ) Also, Kyle’s allergies are terrible this year and I doubt our dusty, dirty, furry carpet is helping the situation.
Don’t let them fool you. Those sweet faces are hiding the carpet-destroying-monsters underneath.
Anyway, Kyle left for a football game with some friends to drink beer and cheer against my alma mater. I decided that was a legitimate reason to possibly cause major damage to our home. I grabbed the carpet near the stairs and started pulling.
I don’t know what I would have done if it was terrible. Probably, I would have tucked the carpet back in and pretended that everything was normal. I’m really good at pretending everything is completely fine. However, I got lucky. So, I grabbed a utility knife and started cutting.
And kept cutting.
You see those dark spots on the left? That’s Bear’s handiwork. (Weiner-Work? Or maybe, “My Crazy Brain Has Made Me Lose Control of My Bladder-Work” and possibly, “I’ve Forgotten That Outside Exists-Work” and “Hey, This Seems Like a Great Place To Pee-Work?”)
Anyway, Kyle came home, gazed upon my deeds, and declared it good. He was curious though what caused me to suddenly slice up our floor, so I told him that I had to make a tough decision between him, the dogs, and the carpet. One of them had to go. He understood and gave a surreptitious nod toward Buster. You know, because you can hurt a cocker spaniel’s feelings if you say mean things about him.
“Oh, hell no.” I said, “You were a close second to the carpet.”
He decided that was reasonable and went to get me a cheeseburger. He also brought me a pry bar and showed me how to use it on the carpet tack. I had been using a flat-head screw driver; it wasn’t nearly as efficient. Or fun. Seriously, get a pry bar and just start demolishing things. It’s fantastic.
Ummm. Make sure you own the things you demolish.
After I had eaten, Kyle gave me a brief construction lesson on how to lay the padding, how the tack works, and how to stretch/install the carpet. Then he left me alone to go watch more football. Good man. It’s not a good idea to mess with me and the pry bar.
I kept cutting.
I’m mostly done. There’s still a few more places I haven’t gotten to yet. I haven’t moved the couch because I can’t do that on my own. I leg-pressed some of the furniture across the room but sadly, the couch is too big for that.
There’s also some damage to the hardwood floor but it’s nothing that’s unfixable. (I think. I still need to research more) Honestly, I hope I look this good when I’m 73. I like how it looks; it’s made the entire room more cheerful and warm and homey. It’s like honey in the sunshine.
Bear’s a fan too. I guess I can forgive him for staining my floors.
There’s still a lot of work to do but I have claimed it as my project.
Considering how much I like to sleep and play video games, it’s going to be a good six months or so before anyone is allowed bare-footed in the house. Y’all have been warned. It’s not my fault if you get tetanus.