We’ve been remodeling our home since January. And by “we,” I mean Michael and I had the good sense to hire some very talented people to tackle 99% of the work.
This project was major. Our stairwell was demolished and replaced with a totally different layout. We now have wider, sturdier steps and a railing that does its job. As for the bathroom, it was absolutely gutted and then expanded slightly.
I knew from the jump that this remodel would completely change our home. Functionally and aesthetically, it would be a big improvement. And with many home improvements, one job begets another. We knew that part of shifting the footprint of our bathroom meant getting rid of our green carpeting.
And at the time, I was OK with this. I figured that this rug had a good run (at least 40 years) and that despite my affinity for its Kermit color, it was probably time to say goodbye. After all, there were hardwood floors hiding underneath! I told myself this over and over and over again.
So one day after work, I pulled up the carpet in the hall. Some of the work had been started by the crew and I just had to finish the rest. The wood wasn’t as pristine as I expected, but I was happy with the progress.
A few days later I moved into the den, the room I use as an office and sewing space. As I started to work, I was glad the floors underneath were in better shape. But as I started to hack into the carpet so I could roll it up and cart it out in smaller pieces, I panicked. I realized that I really didn’t have to tear up the carpet. I could have ripped up the stuff in the hall and left the living room and den as-is (with some cleanup, of course).
So I sat there on my den floor utility knife in hand asking myself what the hell I’d done. Why did I want to tear up this carpet so badly, especially when I found out the wood wasn’t some hidden gem just waiting to be uncovered? Why did I insist on making light of ditching one of our home’s most prominent features?
But in the end, the carpet went. Yes, I did cry and tell Michael that our home was losing a statement piece. Michael is kind and thoughtful; he reminded me that yes, the carpet was a statement, but our whole home is full of wonderfully weird statements like the original rock garden, cone fireplace and cedar-planked walls. And we’re adding statements all the time like a 60s-inspired light fixture above our stairwell, the giant tree painting in the entry and, of course, my favorite Green Lady.
So I cut myself a small piece of rug to cling to as a memento. I fully intend on using it somehow—maybe as a mat for a photo. And until then, I’m going to do my best to weave some much-needed olive green into our decor.
