Owl Do That: Tiles=Tired

Floors! I spent months trying to identify what kind of floors I had. I even posted a picture and thank the facebook gods my friend Ross was able to tell me I had terrazzo tile floors. (Thanks, man. Though I doubt your reading because you're not a let's-read-about-decorating-your-house kind of guy. You're a I'm-in-the-Coast-Guard-and-I-can-fix-your-transmission-and-your-sink kind of guy.) So then once I knew what I had, I started researching how I could clean a very yucky rusty brown stain from what I think was potted plant. It's impossible. The internet scoffed and laughed and responded with a maniacal, "The stain stays, kid." You can check out close-ups of the awesomeness here.

Fine. New floors.

Erm. This is the part where months went by as I tried to decide what to put down. Hardwoods (like we want to eventually lay in the entire downstairs)? Laminate wood (that's in the adjacent living room)? Tile (like in the kitchen, laundry areas)? Or something unique to the entry (marble, travertine, concrete, the possibilities were endless)?

Finally, I landed on the tiles that are in our kitchen. They are neutral enough to go with anything, and hide dirt really well. Not that I would know because my house is always clean. (Note the heavy sarcasm.)

So, next up. Call Dad. What? You thought I would just jump in and do it? Not this time, folks. If red paint is scary, tile jobs are the Dr. Who Halloween episodes (crying angels!!!!).

Dad and I spent a total of 12 hours doing this: