What’s Underneath

Frank and I have been living in this house near the river for going on four years.

It is a very peaceful space. It sometimes feels like we are tucked away in time and space. Those that lived here before us left nice vibes.

This house is rather old and it has it’s quirks. Anyone attempting to use a hair dryer in the one bathroom will shut down every appliance plugged into both sides of the wall that separates the bathroom from the kitchen area.

It was once a farm house. It even has, or had, a pass-through opening from the kitchen to the dining area. What has become an addition to the living room and the place where I have set up my work space.

That window was covered over at some point. I would like to open it and reclaim the ability to more easily catch a glimpse of my partner making tea or he, the ability to smell dinner cooking, or we, a loaf of bread baking in the oven.

But what I really want is to uncover what lies beneath this cheap lackluster carpet.

Whoever installed it resorted to patches to cover the former dining area. My office chair has bothered a seam line and worked it loose. I had to peek.

No wood floors. Just beautiful blood-brown stone tiles.

It looks a little like this carved stone bookend, the darker part but it’s more reddish and not so mottled.

This floor could be gorgeous and I’m really willing to work for it.

I won’t really be able to get to this project until December. There is the Etsy shop and the holiday season, possibly a load of good to create for Bazaar Bizarre in SF.

Shall I ask the landlady? Or shall I just do it? This carpet is less precious than a back alley remnant. It’s really a sad polyester rag. In fifteen years of paying rent to my wonderful landlady I have never asked for anything special.

I want to be able to do this renovation.