dust gets in the way

One of the best decisions my husband and I made when we purchased our first home was to have the original hardwood floors (circa 1945) refinished. Immediately following this decision, however, was one of  our worst: to sand and paint the interior walls after the floors were done. Although it makes for a good story now, in the moment I couldn't find humor in our naivety as we painstakingly scrubbed the newly refinished floors with old toothbrushes to remove the thick dust that had settled among the cracks. It's as if neither one of us had ever heard of a drop cloth, let alone understood the concept of using one to protect our new investment.  With dust (tinted a pinkish-red from the awful wine-colored walls that were in place when we moved in) in my nose, covering my eyebrows and sticking to the perspiration on my face, I scrubbed and hummed "It's a Hard Knock Life" to get myself through the ridiculous task. At least now we can look back at it as a lesson learned, but there are still times--five years later--while cleaning a spill or sweeping crumbs off the floor that I come across a crack where dust has happily settled in for eternity. I'll happily sign that dust over to the next homeowner.

Up-close picture of our hardwood floors following a "goldfish incident" wherein my son decided his goldfish were better suited for the floor than the Pepperidge Farm bag. While sweeping up the mess on my hands and knees, I came across several dust-filled cracks, and I couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it.