Hardwoods Usually Mean Hard Work

From time to time, people approach me with questions concerning remodeling issues. Sometimes they send e-mail. Like the people who wrote hoping for tips on how to heat their basement, or how to reinforce a sagging floor.

The wonderful thing about a column like this is, if you don’t know the answer, all you have to do is ignore the question. If you do know, though, you can spout on at length, looking like you know everything about everything.

But last week, the lady at the post office asked me about sanding floors — and I know the answer to this.

How many of us in dealing with our older homes have tired of that orange shag rug and sought to step boldly out of the 1970s in our living room or dining room decor?

Initially, we consider the obvious solution: a new carpet.

But then we pull off the old carpet and the old pad and discover that we actually have hardwood floors. Immediately we have visions of Alistair Cooke sitting in front of a big fireplace on “Masterpiece Theater,” scratching the back of a sleeping Irish Setter, while crackling flames are reflected in a honey-toned mirror-like hardwood floor.

And then we see the truth. Hardwood floors will change our lives, make us better people who read classic novels and drink brandy in the evening from humongous snifters.

But first, we have to sand the floors.

If a hardwood floor lies sleeping under carpets for several decades, it will likely be in pretty good shape, with the exception of markings from the old mongrel. (Irish setters would never soil the floor.)

The old varnish and wax will have dulled or faded, leaving the floor looking like a collection of boards, rather than the sort of thing Alistair Cooke would drink brandy on top of.

So we must refinish them. And that starts with sanding.

To do this, you must rent a really huge sanding machine. There are several kinds. You have your drum sanders, which are giant belt sanders. You have your circular sanders, which are like big buffing machines outfitted with sandpaper, or your orbital sander, which is like a giant dead weight that sits on top of a piece of sandpaper and vibrates.

These machines cost about $40 rental for 24 hours. Plus a whole bunch of sandpaper.

Of the three, the drum sander, by far, produces the most dramatic results. Slap that sucker down on a hardwood floor, turn it on and slide it along, and in its wake you will see a mostly smooth, pale, pristine swath of hardwood. Most of the old finish comes off in one pass.

If, however, you hesitate in one spot for just a second, you will sand a divot into the floor. They won’t look too bad at first, but when you stain your sanded floor and cover the divots with several coats of varnish, they will gleam up at you, like little waves rippling in the ocean.

The circular sander, likewise, will rip right through the old varnish, but it will leave swirly patterns all over your floor, which you must sand out with a belt sander.

The orbital sander is the heaviest and most ungainly of the three. Through vibration and sheer weight, it slowly — and I emphasize slowly — takes off the old finish.

You start with a grade of sandpaper that still has chunks of wood in it, and then gradually use finer and finer grades for a beautifully smooth floor. Along the way, your back will hurt and you will feel like your eyes are being vibrated out of their sockets. But it doesn’t leave you with swirls or ripples. Neither does it leave you with a pristine floor. Any little low spot in the floor — and there are many — will go untouched. You must then get down on your hands and knees and go over all these little spots with some kind of palm sander.

No matter which machine you use, your entire house, and everyone who passes through it, will be covered with a layer of fine dust for roughly two months.

Under any circumstance, this is not an easy job. But then who among us runs from a challenge just because it is difficult? You just might not want to wait until you’re done to break out the brandy.