House in Progress Diary

I've gotten in to many discussions on old-time floor installation on several different on-line forums. The consensus is that there is no consensus. The 3 main ways are:

1) Finish floor perpendicular to sub floor.

2) Finish floor parallel to sub floor.

3) Sub floor diagonal to joists and finish floor in either direction.

In the random sampling of people who chimed in to the discussions, it seems that all three methods were used equally around the country, and through-out the ages. Really, it is only a finish floor, and is not designed to add anything structural, so I don't think it matters.

And, in case you're wondering, my finish floors are parallel to the sub floor, just as your’s are, and both are perpendicular to the joists.

In my experience, the squeaks will come & go as the weather changes. Temp. Humidity. Wood expands & contracts. The sub floor at it's own pace, which does not match the pace of the finish floor. Make sure the sub floor is really tight to the joists & the squeaks become part of the charm of this old house...POPS -30-

I am indebted to WSJ for finding a good source of moral support as we begin restoration of a 1912 Chicago prairie style brick foursquare next door. Accordingly, I highly recommend WSJ not only for articles like this one but because they have provided the best source of consistently large, uninterrupted pages as drop clothes for my antiques and house restoration projects over the last 30 years.

Synchronistically, we also have a cat named Dave and I also mark my husband’s work clothes so that this 6’6” engineer does not head off to his day job in restoration shirts with the elbows missing. I do have to monogram his name on the pockets of his favorites in service tech script to get his attention in the bathroom mirror however.

I'm down to original plaster in the bathroom at 704 (we refer to the house number to keep it straight from any activity at 714 where we live now). It has been so hot upstairs that I work about 15 minutes or until the sweat starting to roll into my eyes and sting. Then downstairs to stand in front of the big window AC unit for another 10 minutes or until the sportsbra stopped dripping. Haven't had good sweat demolition sessions like that in 20 years.

I woke up this morning at 4AM and up for good at 5AM, feeling as though aliens had abducted me and replaced my spine with a Charlie Brown Christmas tree trunk. All 704 related. Once I got the walls stripped down yesterday, I started on the floor layers. I managed to get the old toilet out but still had to remove the radiator before I could go any further. Funny how we still take the word of 'professionals' as gospel. The plumber who met up with my selected carpenter said, in passing, that it wouldn't be hard to remove the radiator. I specifically countered with "And I won't get any rude surprises - like a flood of water?" He gave me that dumb blond tolerance look and said "It's a steam system." (implying "DOH!"). So ... yesterday I dredged up my biggest plumbing wrench and began fighting with the radiator unions. Success! Before I could react and reverse the grip of that foul tool, I had a gallon of 'steam' in its room temperature state surging around my kneeling figure and seeking ways of attacking the plaster ceilings below. I was N-O-T amused! My blood pressure was running more PSI at that point than the silent boiler. I'm surprised that the enamel on my teeth didn't shatter as I stomped downstairs in search of a sponge and bucket. I spent the next half hour in the basement, draining down the water in the system. I did manage to find and shut off the supply water line after that surprise. Big Al, the former owner, did leave a length of garden hose with the right coupling secured to the water heater for sludge drain-off and I borrowed it, connected it to the system and stuffed the other end into the drain. Only after I opened the valve, did I discover that there was a ten inch split in the hose and that I carefully had to jockey the pressure valve and hold the hose just right to keep it from flooding over onto the basement floor. At this point, I am beginning to question whether 30 years of old house restoration is too much for a type A old fart with cardiac problems. This is the first time I have dealt with radiator heat - it might be the last at this rate.

But wait ... there's more! After squatting and hand feeding the rusty old drain like a baby goat from a bottle for what my creaking knees deemed an eternity, I returned back upstairs. This time the wrench work yields a suction hissing instead of water. "Ah-hah" I thought, "we're nicely breaking a system vacuum here" so I ran back down the various flights to start draining off more water. A LOT more water showed up this time. Luckily, none had escaped onto the bathroom floor again when I returned so I finished disconnecting the fittings and freed up the rad. I went back to 714 and returned with a sturdy dolly to trot the radiator out of the bathroom. “This will be a snap now.” I thought. THAT EVIL MONSTER HAS THE WEIGHT AND DENSITY OF A BLACK HOLE !!!

I positioned the dolly under the coils and tilted back. Rather than coming along gently as predicted (DOH), it slid down the face of the dolly, propelling it backwards. I, of course, was behind the dolly and went along for the ride without choice ... until I hit the newly exposed sharp edge of the cast iron tub. The back of my calves provided the brakes for this locomotive event and the upper part of me went over the edge of the tub. My fall was 'softened' by my arm hitting the now exposed faucet and shower plumbing which were sticking up like a cactus skeleton. I managed to mangle them up against the wall without a geyser of water erupting but the pipes got their revenge by gouging out a grape-sized patch of skin right down to the muscle covering. The behemoth radiator from hell finally stopped its downward movement and was resting on my left foot, the rejected dolly digging into my right shin. I laid there in the tub for that small life review part of eternity, all twisted and bleeding, desperately trying to remember some stress management techniques. It then occurred to me then that if I let the dump of adrenaline fade away, I might be held captive by the weight of the radiator on my foot until my husband got curious and came looking for me at the new place. From experience, I knew that this might occur several days from now and so I used the last of that adrenaline to upright myself and remove the radiator from my foot.

This morning, I am stiff but still moving. The first project today will be sneaking up on that malevolent radiator and having our way with it. Yes, my beloved will go with me this time in hopes that it cannot overpower both of us. Please wish us luck.

Greetings to all you old house restorers out there - keep up the good and necessary work. I shall sign off as 704-OF (house number plus the ‘Old Fart’).

holy cow- what a comment! and what a brave woman.

Hey, looks like 704-OF has the goods to start a blog of her own! :)

It looks like they nailed our flooring upstairs directly to the joists without a sub-floor. Has anyone else ever seen that?