Hardwood

Major work was underway in Rock's house. He walked into his vast living room to see that all of his furniture and the large rug were gone. There was sheet rock leaned against walls in the living room and kitchen. His mother Jane was in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and an old flannel shirt. She held a can of paint and a brush.
"We have a lot to do," she said.
"No kidding," Rock said. "I guess we should get to it."
He walked back into the living room and noticed that its hardwood floor was filthy and heavily scratched. On an area near the kitchen, it looked as if parts of it were stained with splotches of black tar or tree sap.
"Man, I wonder where this stuff came from," he said.
He knew it would be tough to scrub away, but his first job would require a broom and dustpan and a good deal of time. The floor was at least twenty-five hundred square feet.