Welcome Back, Wood Floors

I envisioned something close to this when I first stepped into the house, but actually seeing it come to fruition is quite another thing.

It was great to see that the linoleum I ripped up on Christmas Eve hid something worthwhile.

The bare wood floors made the room feel much airier, even though there wasn't much to define the space. They even tempted me to leave them bare, which I might've done if it were a more rustic space overall.

So pretty, I thought.

Still, I'm tempted to do something out of the ordinary, such as painting them white, as seen in this Door Sixteen post. Maybe I'll save that for the kitchen, which still has that awful blue-green linoleum tile.

Doorway Decisions

Dinner plans didn't get in the way of more demolition I had planned.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," I said. "I just have to take down a wall first."

Deciding to widen the opening between the front (living) room and the den was easy. I wasn't particularly crazy about the hexagonal shape it appears to have sported previously, but it's an improvement over this short, narrow doorway.

I could keep going and take it all down, but where does it end? Do I take down the entire wall?

Thankfully, I realized I'd have to give it some thought, postponed the decision and made it to dinner on time.

Goodbye, Domino

Domino magazine, one of my favorite publications, announced its closure today.

Here, Apartment Therapy and Design*Sponge weigh in.

What a shame.

Although with the economy the way it is, I'd be surprised if we even remembered such a vestige of good times a year down the line.

The magazine was always an inspiration for me (along with the color feature at House Beautiful) and a source of comfort during some of the madness I've faced regarding my own renovations.

Surprises Underfoot

What you don't know can hurt you.

While it was, at some level, tempting to leave the existing floor in place and deal with the squeaks and cracks in the ceramic tile, my vision for the place has largely been reductive. (That is, to remove elements, materials and structures that detract from the building's spirit, for lack of a better word.)

Stripping away all the green, faux marble-pattern ceramic tile would reveal relatively intact hardwood along with a wide array of minor flooring disasters. (Even ThisOldHouse.com cites "blue-green vinyl" as a no-no.) But there were still surprises.

The first was a strange, lead pipe with an attached container that looked like a car's muffler, but smaller. It was torn on one side and squashed — and it wasn't attached to anything.

The second unexpected finding was the absence of a few floorboards, which allowed the viewing of this metal bladder-like object. It appeared to be some sort of water or heating pipe, although no longer in use.

Sometimes I think the place is more suited to "Unsolved Mysteries" than "This Old House." Maybe I should call a TV producer.

Setting Free the Wood Floors

Sometimes a burst of energy and some spare time can be a dangerous thing.

Take the first-floor hallway floor, which I had set upon with hammer and crowbar in order to liberate the wood floor underneath — as I did in the living room. A simple task to define, yet far more challenging in its execution.

First, there was a hideous green faux marble ceramic tile that was shaking loose due to shoddy installation. Under that, there was 3/4-inch plywood both screwed and nailed down. That was followed by the same blue-green linoleum tile inflicted throughout the house.

White linoleum was next. Checkerboard roll linoleum after that. A thin piece of plywood and then what was probably the original 1901 flooring with a paper backing.

Finally, relatively intact hardwood floors.

Although I had yet to scrape all the remaining paper backing off the wood, I was already planning what I would do next. I turned to Apartment Therapy for suggestions on how to proceed and received some great tips, although the most important one (for next time) was probably the advice to do all the floors throughout the house at once: More work up front, but more consistent results throughout.

I'll definitely keep that in mind for next time.

Recalling a Previous Abode

I love Brooklyn.

I love New York.

While I was born and raised here and have always considered it home, it wasn't until I had an apartment of my own in Williamsburg that I really felt connected. The location — right at North 7th Street and Bedford Avenue — was the perfect hub to from which to head toward friends, family and work. Those "spokes," per se, comprised such places as Astoria, Park Slope, Bayside and Seacaucus, N.J. Best of all, it was right on the Bedford L, one subway stop from Manhattan and literally 7 minutes to Union Square.

It was immensely satisfying to round out my meager belongings with furniture to fit the space.

In that shoebox of an apartment, I managed to fit such beloved items as a Persian rug I'd bought at a Santa Fe, New Mexico, consignment store when I lived there; my Stearns & Foster queen size bed, an armless houndstooth chair from Crate & Barrel (a floor model and on sale!), Ikea adjustable halogen overhead lamps in the bedroom and living room — with dimmers — and an Ikea Pax Malm wardrobe to compensate for the dearth of closet space.

The entire apartment was repainted in Benjamin Moore Weathered Stone with two bedroom accent walls in a custom royal blue derived spontaneously from a roll of 3M painter's masking tape. My brother, Marco, and I selected it at a Home Depot color-picking machine in order to overcome my palette indecision.

I couldn't have been happier with those choices, made after several agonizing attempts to pick something.

My reason for going off-track for a moment derives at least in part from wanting to contrast my relatively painless apartment makeover sprint to the arduous home renovation marathon in which I was now enmeshed.

I knew my current project would be much, much more work than a tiny Williamsburg flat. Except that part of me figured I'd get to the fun stuff much more quickly: I'd change a few fixtures, refinish the floors, spackle some walls and pick colors for all of the rooms.

So far, it's been way more involved than that.

Would I do it all over again? Absolutely. Only differently.

Working on Christmas Eve

Inspiration often strikes at the unlikeliest times.

Waking early on Christmas Eve because of I had become accustomed to my predawn workday schedule, I found myself with little do to and plenty of energy with which to do it. (Mind you, getting up at 8:30 in the morning was sleeping in.)

So, I took the floor scraper to the nasty blue-green linoleum tiles covering the original hardwood floors. Most of the wood seemed to be intact, which was a huge relief. The adhesive was more stubborn in certain sections, and some kind of wood filler apparently had been used.

Thankfully, I didn't have much trouble popping off the tiles, finishing the entire living room and most of the dining room by noon, after which I began my shopping.

The tedious part, as always, would be disposing of the debris. Nothing a good supply of contractor trash bags wouldn't take care of, though.

Why is demolition nearly always the fun part?