demolition · master bedroom

I love the look of subfloor.

Growing up, I don’t think we had anything other than our subfloor. Of course, my parents could confirm this. We lived in an old farmhouse with wide floor planks that my mother spent hours sanding smooth and varnishing at least once in my memory.

Wednesday night, the Husband ripped up the hardwood to reveal a weird patterned fabric and vinyl, then pulled that up to expose the pale subfloor beneath. It instantly reminded me of my childhood home, with its knots, gaps, and imperfections.

Seeing subfloor in the bedroom was a reason to celebrate (which I did with half a watermelon and a spoon) because it means we’ve broken through into the second half of the house. Stepping across that line down the middle of our house means we’re that much closer to finished. 
It also means the Husband spent the whole day yesterday sniffling and sneezing after stirring up all the dust with his demoing.
Please follow!