One Thing Leads To Another ...

I think The Fixx wrote the song referenced above while working on a home renovation -- makes perfect sense. You start one innocent project, and the dominoes start falling.

This past weekend is another perfect example of our wanting to do one thing and being stymied because of something else. For regular readers, you may recall that Mr. Hubby and I planned to try tiling LevelHead Jr's shower. The HubMan deduced that maybe he had used too much thinset (mortar) the first time and would try less the second go-round. Great idea. But unfortunately, the result was that the tiling he had done last week stuck out farther than Saturday's attempt because of the difference in thinset quantity.

So we innocently said we'd remove every tile and start over. Another great idea. But now we can't get all the thinset off the cement board, so half of a shower wall is now a bumpy ride. And in a fit of frustration, Mr. Hubby put on a coat of RedGuard, the water sealant, on top of the leftover thinset. So now it looks like a volcano has oozed molten lava on the bottom of our wall.

OK, next idea -- he'll just remove that piece of cement board and put in a new one. Fabulous, except for the fact that he can't find the screws because of the RedGuard coloring.

Oy vie.

So today, after a good night's sleep -- with lots of dreams of beaches and daiquiris we'd be enjoying right now if we hadn't bought this house -- Mr. Hubby is off to the local hardware store before work for their advice on removing all the old thinset. And I'm going to call tile installers to see how expensive it would be to turn over the whole cotton-pickin' headache to the pros.

On an unrelated yet bummer note, we went to the remnant sale at the countertop fabricators. At first I was so excited because they had several pieces of the quartz that I have been eyeing on-line. But once the sales dude started looking at our kitchen layout, there just wasn't enough to put it together without having a million seams. Thwarted again. We did find a piece of granite for our laundry room folding area, so there you go. A brief bit of sunshine in an otherwise rainy weekend.

But we're now in a whole new week, and the electricians will be at the house tomorrow to do their rough-in. I'm sure they'll get all their work done quite efficiently without finding any problems whatsoever.

A disillusioned girl can dream, can't she??

Should We or Shouldn't We?

Mr. Hubby did a little more tiling in LevelHead Jr's bathroom yesterday. It's not looking so hot -- some not-so-small gaps between tiles, a few crooked. Please understand that I say this fully realizing that I could do no better, probably a lot worse.

So what do we do now? Mr. Hubby is removing what he installed, but do we try it again ourselves or hire a professional?? The whole point of this renovation is to do as much as possible ourselves, but it's also important to know your strengths and limitations. I dare anyone to teach financial analysis better than my award-winning better half. So does it really matter that tiling is not his forte'?

At one point, Mr. Hubby suggested finishing the whole shower and seeing if the grout covers up the imperfections. But that's a big IF and a chance this Lazy Perfectionist is not willing to take. What's a Lazy Perfectionist, you ask? It's a term coined by the Hubster that describes my need to have jobs done perfectly but my complete lack of motivation to do them myself.

The vexing part is that he tiled the kitchen backsplash in our current house, and it's fabulous -- can't imagine a pro doing it any better. So why is this shower so much more difficult?

We don't have the answer to that yet. I stopped by the library and got a book on tiling. I'm sure reading a few pages about installation will more than equal the years of experience a professional gets on the job everyday.

So maybe a compromise is in order. We'll try it again this weekend, and if it doesn't look any better, I'll have to call in the big tile guns.

I should warn you that projects where Mr. Hubby and I work closely together usually end up in shouting matches, so be prepared in my next post for a commentary on divorce lawyers.

On a happier note, we're planning to go to a local countertop shop that's having a weekend remnant sale -- hoping we can get a deal on quartz to help offset some of these unforeseen costs. Yeah, I hear ya, good luck with that ...

This and That

Not too much to report today. Went over to the house after school yesterday and saw that Tall Drink of Water and Polar Pop did indeed show up and have filled the big hole in the basement with 10 inches of rock-solid cement, or is it concrete? What's the difference? I guess I should know, being a permit-holding General Contractor and all, but I have no idea.

Is cement when it's wet and concrete when it's dry? Are the terms interchangeable? I guess it doesn't really matter at this point. The important thing is that all this construction product is now ready to support our house and keep it from imploding into a man-made sink hole.

They also dropped off the steel beams. Man, those things are heavier than my eyelids after a day of working with kindergartners who can't go outside for recess. I have NO idea how they got them moved into the garage; I'm just thankful that our contractor is not only tall, he's also incredibly strong. And as noted yesterday by one of my readers, "pretty easy on the eyes.''

They also cleared out drywall in the kitchen where I plan to put a shallow pantry cabinet. Definitely need to follow up on this. If they have to take down that wall, I've got a 27-inch wide, 92-inch high cupboard with no place to go. This homeless cabinet has to establish residence somewhere. Would it be weird having to get my Cheerios from behind the bathroom toilet? I guess the family member on the pot at the time might want to weigh in on this idea.

Still feeling pretty fatigued, so it will probably be just work and a little on-line shopping today. We need to start thinking floors. We want hardwood -- it's just a matter of which wood will be least susceptible to LevelHead Canine's nails, which seem to grow as quickly as bamboo. Maybe that's a sign as to what flooring we should buy ...

There's a Whole World Out There!

I know it's only been two days, but it sure was nice getting back to work this morning and enjoying all those sniffling kids again. Antibiotics are a wonderful thing!!! I don't take them very often, but when I do, I thank God for Dr. Alexander Fleming and his moldy petri dishes.

During my down time yesterday, I made a whiny call to Tall Drink of Water, our errant wall removal contractor. Never underestimate  the power of a woman on the verge of tears to get things done. He called me back a few minutes after our initial conversation to tell me he and Polar Pop would be at the house today to do some prep work in the basement.

This got me thinking: I have a friend who uses menstrual cramps as a sickness excuse with her male boss because she knows it will immediately shut him up. What man is going to follow up with questions: "Do they really hurt that bad? Can you rate the pain on a scale from one to ten? Do you have the kind that makes you nauseous or just the aching kind?'' Ain't gonna happen. He just takes her word for it and gets off the phone toot-quick.

I hate to let such a good idea go to waste, so I'm trying to figure out a way to use menstrual woes as a way to get TDW to do our work faster. Now, those of you who followed my cancer scare blog last summer know that these pains are impossible for me to have at this point, but HE doesn't know that. But I'm still not sure how to work them into the conversation with the intention of getting our walls down more quickly. I'll have to mull that one over. If I could see him in person, I might approach with a heating pad, bottle of Midol and some unprovoked yelling -- that would probably get him to agree to anything. But over the phone ... not so simple.

Since the electrician has a female assistant who might follow up with some unwelcome questions about my ''woman problems'', I chose the email route with her and have scheduled the rough-in for next Tuesday.

Tomorrow, if I keep feeling better, I hope to actually do a little work myself ...

Meet LHC

While in the second day of recovery from my sinus infection, I won't be going to the house and doing anything remotely productive. So I thought I'd tell you a little about the fourth member of our family, LevelHead Canine.

LHC is a Sharpei mix we adopted from our local animal shelter about four years ago. If I had to use one word to describe her, it would be OBSTINATE!! She does nothing we tell her to do; she's not really food-motivated, so we can't even bribe her. And she's what the animal shelter affectionately calls an "escape artist." Translation? She will dart out any door opening if it's at least an inch wide. She's like a mouse who can flatten herself to get about anywhere she wants -- which is usually out the door and roaming the neighborhood in search of rabbits and deer.

We thought having a fence in our current home's backyard would do the trick, but no, she can dig with the best of 'em and has had quite a few escapes from the LevelHead family ''prison'' (apparently that's what she thinks of us because she's always trying to break free). Mr. Hubby has gotten to the point of pouring cement around part of the fencing to keep her at bay.

But she always comes back to us. One time, LHC was gone about four hours, and we thought it was over -- she was either hit by a car or had joined a pack of wolves. But no, she showed up on our porch, dirty as jeep that's been off-roading for days.

Deer are her arch-enemy, and many of her escapes have been due to a fawn or buck that has taunted her one too many times. So what do we have in abundance at the new house? Venison, and lots of it. Even though this house is more in the city than our current home, I think the deer have established their own nature refuge on our little bit of property. They hang out in the backyard, sleep in the bushes in our little courtyard upfront and basically do anything they can to drive our dog to the brink of insanity.

And her barking from inside the house does nothing to deter them. They give her the classic ''deer in the headlights'' look and go on about their foraging.

So when she's at the new house, LHC will sit by the big window for hours, just waiting for a glimpse of her nemesis. And when she sees one, she goes absolutely berserk. Barking, whining, running around the house to look out every window -- I think she'll be taken away in a straight jacket before it's all over. But she'll have had one heck of a ride until then.
.
Hope to return tomorrow with actual house renovation news.

Here are some pics of LHC on Deer Watch; it's like Baywatch without the bikinis ...

I don't have time to be sick!

I thought my cold was getting better; then over the weekend, WHAM! I slammed into the mucus wall. Headache, total body aches, sore throat, blah, blah, blah ...

So instead of meeting Mr Honest, handyman/cabinet maker extraordinnaire, and then going to work, I spent the morning going to the doctor and getting a prescription filled. Sinus infection city. Don't get those very often -- I'm blaming it on the snot-nosed kids (not being mean -- they literally have snot oozing from their olfactory body part) at the school where I work. The kindergarteners just cannot get the hang of coughing into their elbows; they prefer the phlegm in your face approach.

Anyway, needless to say, I wasn't too productive this weekend, but Mr. Hubby picked up the slack! He installed all the cement board in LevelHead Jr.'s shower, waterproofed it with RedGuard (good thing my nose was stuffed up -- toxic fumes a-wafting from that agent orange. He even installed a few tiles to practice.

Well, this blog post has sapped my last drop of writing energy, and I hear the bed calling my name and my sleep number - 95. So it's off for a nap ... hope to be back in at least partial swing in a couple of days ...

Here are some pics of Mr. Hubby working hard in the shower.

We've Got to Move, People!

I've been so wrapped up in the renovation of the house -- or more to the point, the LACK of renovation, that I've been in complete denial that we need to get everything in our current home packed and transported to the new crib by the end of May. And since I'm hoping that construction might actually be happening within the month that brings us flowers after those April showers, I better get my little bum moving (no pun intended).

We're also going to be part of a current neighborhood garage sale the final weekend in May, so first I need to separate our stuff into three piles: 1) things we move, 2) things we sell, and 3) things we clandestinely throw into someone else's dumpster under the cover of night.

So I guess this means cleaning the new house, at least the storage areas. I've been putting this off as long as possible, telling myself there was no use in sprucing up with all the construction dust and whatnot. For those that don't know me, I'm not much of a clean freak, actually quite the opposite. I can live with filth that drives Mr. Hubby to the brink of insanity. What drives ME crazy is doing all that work, and within a few days, having it look even worse than before you cleaned in the first place.

And now with a child, that theory is taken to a whole new level. So why get myself so frustrated? Better to leave it as-is and save myself all that stress. That kind of pressure is just not good for a person.

But even I want to at least wipe off the closet shelves before nestling in our precious goods: you know the stuff we've barely touched in our current house but can't bare to part with in the next.

So my goal for this weekend is to vaccuum and dust -- man, that was hard to write -- some of the closets, so I can start moving and grooving. LevelHead Jr. has a four-hour playdate tomorrow, so it's going to be a race to see how much I can clean -- well, at least until I get sick of it, anyway ...

A Big, Fat "TOLD YOU SO''

I met with the electrician/lighting designer yesterday who may or may not have been wearing a toupee. We'll call him Rug Man. He's a nice guy, but Rug Man had this habit of trying to sell services that had nothing to do with the kitchen. Like when he saw the wet bar, he said, "We can put some LED under-cabinet lighting here" or when he looked at the back door light that's operated by a string, "Oh, I know you'll want to change that."

Sure, in a perfect world we'd fix everything at once, but the budget says otherwise, dude. I felt like I should have had a tape recorder to hit every few seconds with the phrase in my best computer voice, "That will be down the line. Right now, I need to concentrate on the kitchen."

When he talked about putting a ceiling fan in the master bedrooom: hit ''play''.
When he pointed out every dated fixture one by one: hit ''play''.

But once I got him into the kitchen and blocked all the exits, he had some good ideas and answered all my rookie questions.

Then Rug Man innocently asked, ''You didn't get a permit, did you?"
I, in my oh-so-proud General Contractor voice, answered, "Yes, I did. Didn't you see the adorable orange permit sign when you walked in?''
"Oh," he answered with a shake of his head.

Just then a memory, not a pleasant one, popped into my head. When I was getting my permit, I was so enamoured with my neon orange buddy that I didn't make room in my brain to hear the county clerk telling me, "Since you're making improvements on the property, you'll have to intall smoke detectors that are hard-wired.'' At the time, I was all, ''Whatever, isn't this permit sign SO cute?"

But now her voice was coming back to me in slow motion like Charlie Brown's teacher, only the words were crystal clear. But they still didn't have total meaning until RM spoke. "We'll have to install hard-wired detectors in all the bedrooms, one in a common living area and at least one carbon monoxide/smoke detector combo, as well. And they all have to talk to each other so that when one detector goes off, they all will."

"How much is THAT going to cost?" I asked in a squeaky, barely audible breath.
''How many bedrooms do you have?" RM countered.
"Five," I mouthed.
He asked me if I wanted to sit down.
Oh, God.
''Could be close to $900," he kind of smiled. ''Bet you're wishing you hadn't got that permit right about now, aren't you?''
Thanks for the insight, Kreskin.

All I could see in my mind was Mr. Hubby shaking his head in that I'm-always-right way he has, "I TOLD you not to get that permit, said it would only lead to trouble." Man, I HATE it when he's right!! The look on his face would be almost as painful as shucking over the $900.

 But when I told Mr. Hubby last night, he was actually really sweet about it, pitying my I-just-pooped-in-the-living-room puppy dog look.

But I'm feeling more optimistic this morning, plus I just had a brilliant thought. The code technically says you have to have hard-wired detectors in rooms "designed for sleeping." But we'll only be using two for that purpose, plus a guest room. So maybe we can eliminate two rooms? It's worth a try! I'll let you know what Rug Man says!

Post Script

I felt the need to clarify that I realize how petty my problems are compared to the devastating attack in Boston. My thoughts and prayers are with the victims, families and residents of the entire city, as they work to recover from this coward's act. Let's all realize how short our time may be on this earth. Hug those you love and forgive those who have done you wrong. Life is too short.

Down and Out

Not a great day for LevelHead. I'm fighting a whopper of a cold that I'm sure was caused by my insane schedule the past couple of weeks. My poor little immune system just couldn't keep up. So I'm taking the day off to give my body some needed rest and rehab.

But I have to get myself together by 1:00 to meet the electrician who moonlights as a lighting designer if you use his electrical services, and I'm ALL about the free when I can get it. I just don't know about this electrical stuff -- how many canned lights in the ceiling and how far apart, etc, etc. I'm hoping this guy will wear the hat of a teacher, as well as a salesman.

I also need to learn about preparation for the electrician's rough-in work: where they attach the necessary wires, etc to the studs. Are there codes that require a minimum number of outlets, or is it basically at the homeowner's uneducated whim?

Another reason I'm feeling in the dumps today is because LevelHead, Jr. is having a hard time with the idea of moving. She loves our current home and doesn't want to be transplanted to that "old" place. She's blaming me for "making" her and Mr. Hubby move. No wonder she's been a real pistol with me lately. I thought it was my overall lack of maternal skills that had her upset; turns out it's my inane desire to be a General Contractor that's making her sad. Maybe she realizes it's could be years before I get my GC s%&* together and can actually provide a nice home for all of us.

She's also upset that she has to spend almost every weekend waking moment at the other house while Mr. Hubby and I work on projects. It's not fair to her, I know, but it's the cost of living in a town without family. We did decide we'll try to plan more playdates and allow her more weekend time in her chosen abode.

To make my fabulous mood even better, it's been raining but not enough to pull Tall Drink of Water away from his other job.

So to put it in a nutshell, I'm a sickly, bad mother who can't even do an effective rain dance.

Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. I'm sure a day of rest will bring me back to the positive side. It's got to -- I've got too much to do!

Inside or Out??

I didn't get a chance to post on Friday -- I was all contractors, work, doctor appointments and school carnivals. Plus, we don't have internet at the new house yet, and none of our neighbors has easy-access wireless accounts that we can mooch. So I'm behind, per usual.

This weekend, I was all ready to get my putty knife out and wage some guerrilla warfare against the remaining kitchen floor adhesive. My plan was to keep hacking away at it until we had an almost level floor.

But on the way inside our new abode, I noticed the zillions of weeds that sprouted up after last week's rain. Sure, the precipitation allowed Tall Drink of Water and Polar Pop to begin their wall removal prep work, but it's also made the front of our house look like a soon-to-be-condemned property. That's a great way to impress the new neighbors.

So what should I do?? Focus on the inside of the house, where so much work needs to be done that it sometimes wakes me up at three in the morning with an annoying, "hey, lazy butt, when are you going to finish peeling off the dining room wallpaper?" OR do we work on the yard, and hopefully avoid a petition signed by the neighborhood, kindly asking us to move to a neighborhood more in keeping with our slovenly ways?

So I decided to do both -- resulting in a half-posteriored job on both -- my specialty. But I did meet a couple of neighbors who were very nice and seemingly agreeable to my promise to get to the outside of the property as soon as the kitchen and LevelHead, Jr's "suite" are finished.

Speaking of LHJ's wing of the house, Mr. Hubby made some great progress on the bath this weekend -- the shower surround is now gone and cement board has been installed in preparation for tiling. Mr. Honest, the handyman, also stopped by on Saturday and patched the drywall where the bulkhead used to be. Mr. H and I have made a date today to shop for bathroom floor tile. I should clarify that the date is with my husband and not the handyman, although if there's a possible discount with Mr. Honest, I may have to consider an "open" relationship. The sad part is I don't think Mr. Hubby would even care, especially if it saved him some money :( ...

Here are a few recent pics: an updated shot of the kitchen with most of the electrical removed from the studs; the newly drywalled bathroom ceiling where the bulkhead used to be; the complete mess of the bathroom right now and a cute shot of the giant hole in our basement thanks to Tall Drink of Water.

Dust Yourself Off!

Well, the LevelHeaded family did a rain dance last night that would rival any contestant on Dancing With The Stars 'cause it's been raining or almost raining all day. That means that Tall Drink of Water was on the scene today with his trusty assistant, Polar Pop.

After forking over a check for $2,000 (OUCH!!) to get the wrecking ball rolling, Tall Drink and PP headed to the basement where they spent the next four hours sandblasting, jackhammering and who knows what else (they enclosed themselves in a plastic tent to keep the dust down, so I couldn't see what they were doing, just could hear the audible chaos). The end result is a 4x4' square cut into the basement floor that descends an additional eight inches into the dirt below. I immediately imagined snakes slithering from the ground into our basement, thinking they had just won an unlimited stay at a 4-star resort (well, maybe this money-trap might be luxurious, compared to their current abode of mud and muck). Tall Drink assured me no snakes will be visiting.

After seeing TD and PP's haggard faces about 75% into the job, I started wondering if 2K was turning out to be a bargain for the work involved...

I left about half-way through the job (more on that later), and at that point, the visibility in the basement was about 5 inches because of all the dust created from their work, but it was contained sub-living area. When I returned, I was taken against my will into a time machine and spit on into The Great Dust Bowl. There's like a three-inch layer of gunk on everything, including, I'm afraid, our lungs if we don't get some major airflow going.

The reason I left the house was to pick up our remodeling permit!!! You have no idea how proud this makes me -- it's like I'm a REAL general contractor, complete with a neon orange notice that I proudly taped to the inside of the glass front door. Too bad it's now illegible because of the dust magnets clinging to the plastic case like stink on cooked kale.

I had the electricians in this morning, as well -- they were also loud, but it wasn't because of any machinery. They both seemed to be hard of hearing because they kept yelling back and forth to each other, even though they were in the same room. I went back to check on them a few times to see if one of them had accidentally started working on a house three doors down, but no, they were just loud and proud. I'm not sure what that was all about, but the end result is a chandelier in LevelHead Jr's room complete with an actual light switch (the ceiling fan the previous owners had was not attached to the switch and had to be manually turned on) and bathroom wiring that will now allow for a normal wall light instead of a '70's disco ball descending from the bulkhead.

All in all, I have to admit I was happier than a hog in slop all day despite the jackhammers and yelling -- things were happening, and I was a GC with an orange permit sign for all to see. Does it get any better than this??

For your viewing pleasure, I'd like to introduce Tall Drink of Water (left) and Polar Pop.

Nickels and Dimes

After a day of self-pity -- "oh, poor me, I don't get my pretty kitchen as soon as I wanted; it's such a tragedy" -- please.

I gave myself a 'get-off-the-overflowing-pity-pot' talk and got back on the sawhorse. Tall Drink of Water and his motley crew of slow-pokes don't have to take me down -- well, at least, not completely shut me down. If we can't get cookin' in the kitchen, we do have a total bathroom reno to complete before our move.

I was having a hard time calling in the professionals because I wanted to be a true General Contractor and wait until I had every job ready to go before calling in the big boys/girls -- all the plumbing at once, all the electrical at once, etc. It would be more economical but pretty impossible.

So I'll nickel and dime this operation if I have to in order to move forward. I got on the phone and started scheduling my soon-to-be contractor comrades for specific jobs: the HVAC company to move the heating duct from one wall to the other; the plumber to reconfigure the bathroom sink vent that used to be in the removed soffit; the electrician to move electrical lines from said soffit to the wall. Plus, I have the owner of the electrical company, who also freelances as a lighting designer (the operative word being "free"), coming to give me advice on future kitchen illumination.

And when all else fails, SHOP!!! I've tried to put off getting distracted by choosing fixtures and paint colors and all the fun stuff until the down and dirty tasks were done. But if Tall Drink is going to thwart my good intentions, then I will keep this train moving by visiting every showroom, big box store and on-line boutique that I can fit into my days -- that's how dedicated I am to this project.

It's onward and upward time again, dear readers. See you at Lowe's!!　

　

　

One Step Forward, Ten Back

Like I wasn't feeling down enough about the whole project and its lack of forward movement yesterday, I received an email from Tall Drink of Water -- it's unfortunately been a long time since I mentioned his name, so I'll remind readers that he's the contractor who's going to remove our perpendicular load-bearing walls and make our open-concept dreams come true.

Turns out he may be making dream come true, but they sure as Hades won't be ours -- at least any time soon. At first I was all excited to see his email and my first official contract for services ... until I saw the dates of completion. Work to be conducted from May 1 - May 30???? Wasn't this the guy who told me on March 27th that he had one job in front of ours, which would be completed in three weeks? I had even built an extra week into my schedule, ensuring that his work would be done by the end of April.

I emailed him back immediately and asked for the sake of my marriage and bodily safety if he could make the completion date April 30th. He called about an hour later to discuss our "miscommunication." I don't mean to bad-mouth Tall Drink; he seemed to really feel bad about our misunderstanding and completely understood if we wanted to hire someone else. But gosh darn it, he comes highly recommended, has already been in talks with Mr. Swift, the humorless structural engineer and has a work plan submitted to us.

It then came to me at like a bolt of heat lightening on a sultry summer night -- in the words of Seinfeld, I have no hand. I have absolutely NO influence on, or power over, these contractors. I don't have 100s of general contracting jobs under my tool belt. I haven't earned the right to call in favors from my construction buddies. I'm just an honest homeowner trying to save some cash by it doing herself: the very bottom of the Contractor Totem Pole. And there's not a dang thing I can do about it. They know it. Now I know it. But it stinks, even worse than those uneaten Easter eggs rotting on the old kitchen counter.

So in the end, since his other job involves outside work, Tall Drink of Water and I agreed that the May completion date will stand, but we will be his back-up plan of choice on days of inclement weather. Oh, boy ...

What's one more month? We'll be moving into the house at the end of May, kitchen or no kitchen. Looks like it's going to be hot plate city for a while. Who would have thought three months wasn't enough time to get a kitchen renovated??

We're At War!

Saturday started with a playdate for LevelHead, Jr. so that Mr. Hubby and I could tackle the kitchen floor and its maybe/maybe not asbestos issues.

After dropping off LHJ, I arrived at the house to find my better half tearing out clumps of vinyl, simultaneously informing me that he felt like Sherman razing Atlanta during the Civil War. I made a mental note to see if hallucinations were a symptom of asbestos exposure. I decided it was best to nod my head in agreement, afraid that spousal attacks might be another side effect for dubious wives.

But as I got to work, I found he was completely right (or I succumbed to the fumes, as well). Success was all about finding a weak spot in the enemy's line and going after it with all your might. If you could get your putty knife under just a centimeter of obstinate adhesive, you had a good chance of eventually ripping out a fairly good-sized piece. After a while, we were left with The Islands of Stubbornness -- pieces of flooring that were harder to get into than a new kid's toy wrapped in plastic.

We got about 75% removed and agreed that we had a better chance of finally winning this war after a good night's sleep. But it turned out the enemy also had a chance to rest, strengthening its hold even more. So now we've decided the best plan of attack is wearing down our opponent with frequent insurgent maneuvers.

We have seen the enemy, and he is Armstrong Solarium Vinyl!

BTW, Mr. Hubby had a face-to-face with Robin, our aviary friend and convinced him to check out our screened-in porch and then eventually released him back into the wild.

Here are some pics from this weekend, including my Catch of the Day, one of the biggest pieces of flooring I got up intact.

Flying High!

Not too much to report today.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful, except for the bird that has moved into the house! I was showing some friends our project, and we all heard a loud bang -- my guests thought it was Mr. Honest, the handyman, but he doesn't have his own key (yet). I thought it might be Mr. Hubby, but there was no response when I called his name (which doesn't necessarily mean anything; he tunes me out most of the time). The noise stopped, and we forgot about it,

I took my guests to the master suite, where I was mesmerizing them with my plans to build a wall-size closet on one end of the room and expand the bathroom on the other, when all at once a bird buzzed by just over over our heads. We tried to get it to the window, but he decided the rafters in the kitchen ceiling were more appealing.

He was quiet the rest of the tour, only to reappear when Mr. Hubby met Mr. Honest & Son later in the afternoon. They again tried to get him out a window, but I think Robin The Bird has grown rather fond of us and wants to stick around to see what renovation project we mess up next.

So now I'm in fear that Robin is going to whitewash all our floors, walls and anything else he can target with his precision-aimed bunghole. I want a white kitchen, but come on birdy, this is NOT what I had in mind ...

Asbestos? What asbestos?

Met with our incredible handyman yesterday, who also happens to be our cabinet maker. He is SO honest, you almost think there's got to be a catch, like he's going to be found out as the biggest serial killer since Ted Bundy (that dates me, huh?).

Anyway, Mr. Honest (that's what we'll call him) and his son came to take down the kitchen soffits. I had to go to work, so I just gave them general instructions, and they were off and running. Before I left, I mentioned that we were going to take out the kitchen floor this coming weekend and asked if he had any words of wisdom for us demo newbies.

He talked about using a floor scraper and that he had one we could borrow (he's just so darn nice!). So I was off to work to help our future leaders (I work part-time at LevelHead Jr.'s school). After my time there, I came home to find The Honest Boys gone. I was looking admiringly where the soffits used to be and commenting to myself how much bigger the kitchen looked now. I was all smiles until I happened to look down and see half the vinyl floor gone!

Mr. Honest and Son had removed two layers of flooring, which may or may not have contained asbestos. There were little vinyl chips and dust everywhere. Our plans to pretend we were a hazmat team when removing the floor were now down the drain (which I hope was not insulated with asbestos, as well.).

But how could I be angry? Mr. Honest had done the work out of the goodness of his heart -- simply because he's one of the nicest guys ever to hit the home improvement world. I immediately called him to see how this demo had come about, and he said he just wanted to see how hard it would be. When I asked him the difficulty score, he said "very."

So I quickly started spraying everything down with the only squirt bottle I had, but it was like trying to get drunk by inhaling wine corks -- it just wasn't enough.

Then my friend came to meet for lunch, and I warned her that she might be breathing in asbestos fumes; she lived in Japan during the nuclear disaster there, so she thought her internal radiation would devour any asbestos particles.

So my only option now is to go into complete denial: that floor had no asbestos and anyone who tells me differently can take a flying leap from one of our upstairs windows, that is, if they actually opened and weren't painted shut. But what else can I do? There's no point in getting it tested now; the damage, if any, has been done.

So Mr. Hubby and I only have to take out HALF a floor this weekend using our universal precautions, which will involve keeping the floor damp and wearing our masks. The poor Honest Boys were not wearing any protection -- are we about to be sued? But I didn't ASK them to do the work; they completely volunteered when I wasn't even around.

All I can do now is try to clean everything up and hope for the best and keep reminding myself what the county inspector told me about asbestos used in flooring not being as dangerous as some other types. I've almost got myself convinced already ...

Me, overreact??

Had a very interesting and informative phone conversation with a county building inspector yesterday about the whole asbestos issue. Turns out I may have overreacted just a teensy-weensy bit ... so unlike me, I know.

He informed me that our flooring most probably does not contain asbestos because of the year of home construction and that even if it does contain a small amount of the bad mineral, it's of a more stable compound than the mega-nasty stuff that was used as pipe insulation and the like.

My new pal said that we would have to pulverize our floor to release the dangerous particles. And I don't think that we'll do that unless Mr. Hubby and I get into an altercation that involves calling law enforcement.

Great news! So now we can take out those ultra-ugly vinyl layers. And just as an aside, I don't know why the previous owners ever put down the second layer of flooring -- I much preferred the first choice. It's kind of cobblestone-looking with a nice beige tint to it; the top layer is just a plain nasty we-live-in-the-'70's-and-I'm-looking-groovy-in-my-leisure-suit pattern.

So now I need to research the easiest way to remove sheet flooring. The building inspector recommended making the floor damp to ensure any released particles don't get into the air. And I think I recall something about putting really hot, wet towels on the floor to loosen the adhesive. But first we have to remove like 300 nails the previous owners installed on top of the vinyl, I think, simply to miff off anyone who tried to remove it.

The fun continues ...

Steam-o-Rama

Spent all day Saturday with my new friend, the wallpaper steamer. I can't believe this is the first time I've ever steamed (except at Mr. Hubby, of course). We've previously owned two older homes, one built in the 20's and one in the 30's, yet I've never removed wallpaper. I think in the past I've been smart and just painted over it. But that was before my obsession with HGTV -- Candace Olsen would never do such a thing, so I won't either.

Before actually steaming, I imagined long strips of paper magically flying off the walls after being touched by the warm mist of the machine. After trying it, not so much. I guess that's why they never show it being done on TV -- it would make for VERY boring television, plus there would be so much bleeped out language, viewers would never hear any actual dialogue.

But I persevered ... and scraped ... and tugged ... and dug with my fingers and, well, you get the idea. But every once in a while, I'd pull a long, wide sheet off in one piece, and it was like what I imagine that first-time drug high must be but can never be reached again. There must be thousands of steamer addicts out there, desperately trying to repeat that first easy pull, never to attain nirvana again.

It was like when we were kids after an intense sunburn (before anyone told us to wear sunscreen). Remember pulling off the dead skin after a few days? You'd get a huge piece, and it just felt so cool.

I steamed most of the day but didn't get nearly as far as I had hoped. So we think we may buy a steamer instead of paying rental fees. Goodness knows there's enough wallpaper in this house to get a tidy return on our investment and then some.

Sunday, Mr. Hubby and I greeted the most holy of Christian holidays by having a big fight, full of thoughtless accusations and unresolved issues from every previous argument we've ever had. He's all like,"this reno isn't moving forward at all", and I'm all like, "these projects take time. Rome wasn't built in a day." Yada yada you're a jerk, blah,blah, you can be so cruel ... you know the drill. We resolved our differences by agreeing that I will try to get some forward movement from contractors, and Mr. Hubby will spend more time on outside projects so he doesn't have to see the mess.

Today, I will try to find info about asbestos testing (government offices were closed on Friday) and see if I can find someone to do some soffit demo to replace Mr. Hubby/Destructo Boy, who is entering a super busy time at work.

Onward and upward ...

Photos courtesy of LevelHead, Jr.