About a month ago I was going to do a post called “Stripping
for the Neighbors”, however absolutely nothing insane happened while I was
doing this activity outside, in the driveway.
Either I’ve lost my girlish touch or people are just not interested in
watching two grown women strip four layers of lead paint off drawers and
molding from the bathroom. No limbs were
lost, no children eating paint chips, basically nothing remotely typical of my
life occurred. Needless to say, no post.
Today, of course, is a different story. You see, I’ve come to realize that there
comes a point when living in an old house where you and the house must call a
truce. At some point, the amount of
rooms you have torn apart and dismantled will overwhelm you and the house, in
the meantime annoyed to be so violated, keeps throwing little hiccups your way
that prevent you from actually fixing the destruction you’ve wreaked. For example, we have open plaster on all of
the upstairs bedrooms that need to be finished and a gaping hole to a parallel
universe where our main floor bath used to be.
The house has decided that our basement toilet should start leaking (and
it’s out of commission waiting for parts), the hot water heater is leaking
(still working though), and tonight we found an active leak (running water and
mold) in the ceiling of the keg closet next to the dining room (don’t ask how
this amazing space came to be). The keg
leak has necessitated “Lonnie” cut a hole in our ceiling to find the leak
source, only to discover that it is from the master bathroom toilet (now out of
commission awaiting parts). The truce is called to prevent anyone from getting
hurt—“Lonnie’s” injuries stemming from some random construction accident and
the house’s injuries from me slamming sledge hammers into it in abject despair. Did I mention that the neighborhood
historical society decided to have our block on the garden tour this year? Of all the fricken years, you pick the year
we move in and are up to our ears in projects?
Three weekends wasted getting landscaping done.
 |
| New awesome moldy hole in ceiling |
 |
| Gaping Hole to Parallel Universe |
So the white flag is up (actually it’s a set of dirty tighty
whiteys we use as rags) and we will have a meeting of diplomats to establish a
peace treaty. The refugees are down to
one bathroom! The keg is in the formal
dining (horror!), there is a new hole in the ceiling (and the accompanying dust that followed which I'm not even bothering to clean),
the main floor hole to a parallel universe that hasn’t been touched in weeks (and I’m
antsy to finish it), and I need to defrost the 1950s freezer AGAIN. We’re not ready to surrender, but boy oh boy
this truce is needed. And I can’t figure
out how to get the smell of dog pee out of the carpet! Peroxide is not working and I’m taking
suggestions because scissors is my next level of attack and I guarantee there
will be casualties.
Now, I don’t want to scare anyone away from getting an old
house. They are lovely and have tons of
character and fun things to discover.
But when invading a foreign country (i.e. old house), do not plan to
completely establish your own government right away (i.e. fix broke shit)…work
with the locals and go slowly to avoid an insurgency of busy work (i.e.
everything else breaking) that prevents effective leadership. See that, see what I did?! I merged concepts from ACSC into a post about
home remodeling. Woo Hoo, the lead paint
is starting to work its magic on my synapses.
I’d go take a nice bath to relax…if I had one. Instead, I shall endeavor to save the beer
that’s left in the keg from spoiling. It’s
a sacrifice I’m willing to make in these uncertain times.
