Gary vacuuming the floor for the second or third time before the fourth coat of varnish.

The plan was to put down a cheap floor and then after our sons graduated from college we would spring for hardwood.

A contractor suggested particleboard, sealed and oiled. The look was not what I was after. I chose A-face half-inch fir plywood. The A face is solid, with knots filled. It is not expensive—as best I can recall the four by eight sheets cost about $24 each in 1985. Fifty cents a square foot was about our speed.

A professional painter (the brother of an old friend) detailed a plan for finishing the floors. I wanted mostly wood showing but with a simple painted pattern. He suggested specific products and I followed his advice. I did a bedroom first with green zigzags, then the kitchen and dining room with an oversize black check, and finally the living room has dark purple zigzags. For each floor, I sealed the wood and then drew the pattern with a pencil and my grandfather’s steel rules. I painted the pattern with eggshell oil-based paint—on hands and knees—no painter’s tape but a steady hand. The varnish should have gone straight on after the paint cured, but the varnish was the most expensive step and I wanted some wear on the floor. Leaving the painted floors unvarnished allowed the softer parts of the grain to wear away with foot traffic. The grain becomes three dimensional. This is trendy today, but it was pretty much a unique look in the 80s.

Eventually I sealed the floors with the nasty clear varnish, three coats—two in the late 80s and a third in the 90s. The finish is hard but flexible enough for floors “with light use,” though my floors have always seen hard use, the tracks of children and dogs, sandy feet.

Yesterday I brushed on coat number four. Yeah, on my hands and knees with a four inch brush. It took an hour and my knees might be bruised.

Gary took me out for ice creams.

The stink was terrible in the house, but moving the furniture, books and CDs out of the space was probably the worst part of the process. Everything is crowded into spaces that were a bit crowded to begin with. The sofa is upended in front of the linen closet.

Before I could apply varnish, Gary vacuumed and scrubbed the floors once, I went over them, and then Gary went over them twice more. They show their age. Fir is a softwood and this floor has over thirty years of dents and dings and stains. We still prefer it to any replacement. In a week or two, we’ll put most everything back and clear the dining room and kitchen in order to put the last coat on those floors. Most people will not even notice a difference.

In the mean time, we’re sleeping in our younger son’s old room, two doors past the toxic varnish. We will avoid cooking—I will avoid cooking too much. We’d like to tear out the tile shower but scrubbing and scrubbing will have to do. For most of our marriage, we have made do with what was handy or free or could be done with least expense. And even now. But the ceilings and walls and floors all needed a definitive finish. Finishing. It’s an overwhelming task.

This is meant to be the last time. Once we complete the work we plan for this summer, I expect the walls and floors will do for the remainder of our lives—twenty years or so. If the tsunami doesn’t take this house first, our heirs will sell it or put down something else for people to walk upon.