I have these very beautiful wood floors in my home. They are nearly 150 years old. They are one of the reasons I fell in love with the house the first time I saw it. I couldn’t believe anyone would sell a house with such beautiful floors.
Yesterday, while I was vacuuming, I realized why you would sell a house with such beautiful floors. The CRACKS! The floor boards have spaces in between them. The spaces add character and beauty to the floors and home. But those bloody CRACKS! I could spend my LIFEtime cleaning out those CRACKS!
My word the stuff that gets down in those CRACKS. I must have been on CRACK when I thought it would be a good idea to raise small children in this house with those CRACKS in the floor.
The reality is my LIFE’s story can be told by the CRACKS. Seriously.
What did you feed the kids for lunch? check the CRACKS.
Girls, where did all the glitter go? check the CRACKS.
Mom, where is my hair tie? check the CRACKS.
What color sprinkles did the kids use to decorate the holiday cookies? check the CRACKS.
Son, did you finish your peas? check the CRACKS.
Ellie (the puppy), what did you just chew up and swallow? check the CRACKS.
Mommy, where is my princess’s shoe? check the CRACKS.
My LIFE story is held in the deepest, darkest part of the CRACKS in my floors. And I am pretty certain that those CRACKS, no matter how much I clean, will never be completely clean. There will also be a piece (or two or three) of my family’s history in there.