Tickled to Death
I stand corrected. The walls in my dining room are not 11 feet high. They're 10'3". I know this because last night I measured them for the wallpaper. I didn't get nervous about hanging the wallpaper until I rolled it out on the kitchen floor to cut it to length and saw for the first time what a big sheet of wallpaper that is.
After months of looking at the plain plaster walls, I'm tickled to death to finally see wallpaper up there.
And I'm tickled to death that I got the switchplate cover to match the wallpaper pattern on the very first try.
Gulp. It covers the whole length of the kitchen floor. And yes, the paper's weighted down with the door hinges. Those things come in handy.
Three hours later, this is what the dining room looked like:
And I'm tickled to death that I got the switchplate cover to match the wallpaper pattern on the very first try.
I am not, however, tickled to death about this:
Nor this:
Not at all. Not one little bit. Someone is in Very Big Trouble.
Don't give me that sweet innocent look, Louis. You're at the top of the suspect list.
Well Now...
I braved the cold and snow to go outside and measure over from the current back door to the edge of the old door opening. Forty-one inches. Then I came back inside, stomped the snow off my boots, and measured the inside wall. Then I called Mare.
Me: Hey, we're not gonna be able to move that back door to where it originally was after all.
Mare: Why not? It wouldn't be that hard. You've got the doors, I've got a saw.
Me: Yeah, but where the door originally was is now my bathroom. The door opening would be directly across from the shower.
Mare: Well now...that'd be an interesting feature, wouldn't it?
Me: Hey, we're not gonna be able to move that back door to where it originally was after all.
Mare: Why not? It wouldn't be that hard. You've got the doors, I've got a saw.
Me: Yeah, but where the door originally was is now my bathroom. The door opening would be directly across from the shower.
Mare: Well now...that'd be an interesting feature, wouldn't it?
Now I Get It
Remember when I found this, the chopped-out stuff to the left of the back door?
And remember when I found this mess, which caused me to quit working on the back of the house?
And remember how I was all frustrated and mad and couldn't figure out why someone would do something like that?
Well, last week when Mare was here he walked onto the back porch (which is what we still call it, though it hasn't really been a porch for 60 years) and said, "I see you got a lot more shingles off the house than the last time I was here. Looks like your back door used to be a window, and the back door used to be further over to the left. It wouldn't be a whole lot of trouble to take that door out and put it in the old door opening, and then buy a window from salvage to put over there where the window used to be. Then your back door would be lined up with the sidewalk again."
Oh. The door used to be a window. Now I get it.
The Trash Man Cometh....Or Not
In my last post I hinted at a forthcoming rant about why only a third of the pee-pee carpet is gone, and I fully intended to save that rant for another day...say, Monday. But I find myself with a bit of free time on my hands and I thought, "Why wait to rant til Monday when you can rant today?"
First a bit of background: the second parlor is the only room in the house that still has carpet, which I refer to as "pee-pee carpet" because this is the room my little blind dog lived in before he went to his new home in Iowa. (Where, by the way, he peed on a leg of the coffee table within ten minutes of his arrival. "Hey, thanks for adopting me—mind if I pee in your living room?") You may be able to surmise a big part of the reason why the dog now lives in Iowa. And why the carpet needs to be removed. Actually, the carpet was already destined for the trash bin before the dog started using it as one giant potty pad. But I digress. The top layer of carpet was installed 20-some years ago over a thick padding, which was stapled to some Berber-like carpet of probably 1970s vintage, which was glued to the hardwood floor. Y'all have heard me gripe and complain aplenty about the black glue residue that's covering the hardwood floors in the rest of the house. Did you catch that? I said, the rest of the house. There is no carpet in the rest of the house because it's already been ripped up and taken out to the trash over the past two years. Keep that in mind. Remember also that every room in my house is about 15' by 15', except for the entryway, which is about 6' by 9'. My son ripped out the carpet in the front parlor in two giant pieces. We ripped out the carpet in the dining room in two or three big pieces. I removed the carpet in the little entryway in one big swath. Got all that? Okay, then hang on for the rant.
Three, or maybe four weeks ago I started tearing out the carpet in the second parlor. I decided that since I'm all by myself here, I'd better tear it out in strips I can handle. Fifteen by fifteen room...yeah, three big pieces oughta do it. I tore up the first layer of carpet, rolled it up, and wrapped duct tape around it to hold it together. I tore up the padding and put it in trash bags. I tore up the bottom layer of carpet, rolled it up, and wrapped duct tape around it. Then I carried the whole shebang out to the trash. The bags went in the bin and the two pieces of rolled-up carpet went in the alley next to the trash bin. Three (or maybe four) weeks later I noted that one roll of carpet was still out in the alley. I called the trash company to complain. This conversation took place:
Trash Lady: How long is the carpet?
Me: I don't know, it's all rolled up. Like 15 feet.
TL: No, I mean, how long is it?
Me: You mean, how wide is it? I'd say 5 feet or so.
TL: Oh. Then that's why they didn't pick it up. It's too long. It has to be 4 feet long or less.
Me: What?! Why?
TL: It's just the rules. You should've gotten a list of the rules when you moved.
Me: Well, I didn't. I just have the joy of finding these things out as I go along.
TL: Yeah, cut it shorter and we'll pick it up. And it must be tied with string or tape. Otherwise you can rent a dumpster.
Me: I don't want to rent a dumpster. I want you to pick up my carpet the way you always have for the past two years without all this hassle.
TL: Well, if they picked it up before they shouldn't have.
And that was the end of that. No amount of explanation swayed her. She was utterly unconvinced that a roll of carpet exceeding 4 feet in width had ever been picked up at my house or at anyone else's house. She did not believe me when I told her that I'd dragged it out to the alley without so much as an inch of tape or string on it and it had been picked up. She scoffed when I told her that one bright morning the trash haulers had picked up at least six rolls of carpet from my house. Impossible, she said. Only one roll at a time. Cut the roll to four feet or less, she said. Make sure you tape or tie it. Apparently the trash company does not negotiate. So I went outside, hopping mad, in the rain mind you, to measure the roll of carpet. Four feet five inches. Rats! I folded it in half. And as I was wrestling the duct tape around the folded-in-half roll of carpet, I saw it. The other roll of carpet. The carpet I'd just told her had been picked up by the trash man last week. There it was, tucked neatly between my neighbor's garage and another neighbor's fence. What the Sam Hill?! How did it get there? Surely the neighbors don't intend to use it. Did the neighbors put it there? Did the trash man hide it? Was it dragged there by coyotes?
Now folks, I am not good at math, but I figure the remaining carpet in the second parlor is about 12 feet wide. That means I'll have to cut it into at least three strips to meet the trash company's criteria. There are two layers of carpet. That would be 6 rolls of carpet if I roll them separately, or 3 rolls if I manage to roll the two layers of carpet together somehow. If they pick up only one roll a week....well, y'all can figure out that it will take some time to get rid of all the carpet from my second parlor. I think this is some scheme to make people rent a dumpster. There's no place for a dumpster on my property. If I put it out in the alley, my neighbor won't be able to park his truck behind his house. Not to mention that I'm cheap and I don't want to spend the money for a dumpster. Darnit.
In a snit, I called White Trash Bob. He listened to me rant and when I paused for breath, he said, "I find that if I put a six-pack of beer out there on top of the trash, they'll pick up anything." Hey, it's worth a try...
First a bit of background: the second parlor is the only room in the house that still has carpet, which I refer to as "pee-pee carpet" because this is the room my little blind dog lived in before he went to his new home in Iowa. (Where, by the way, he peed on a leg of the coffee table within ten minutes of his arrival. "Hey, thanks for adopting me—mind if I pee in your living room?") You may be able to surmise a big part of the reason why the dog now lives in Iowa. And why the carpet needs to be removed. Actually, the carpet was already destined for the trash bin before the dog started using it as one giant potty pad. But I digress. The top layer of carpet was installed 20-some years ago over a thick padding, which was stapled to some Berber-like carpet of probably 1970s vintage, which was glued to the hardwood floor. Y'all have heard me gripe and complain aplenty about the black glue residue that's covering the hardwood floors in the rest of the house. Did you catch that? I said, the rest of the house. There is no carpet in the rest of the house because it's already been ripped up and taken out to the trash over the past two years. Keep that in mind. Remember also that every room in my house is about 15' by 15', except for the entryway, which is about 6' by 9'. My son ripped out the carpet in the front parlor in two giant pieces. We ripped out the carpet in the dining room in two or three big pieces. I removed the carpet in the little entryway in one big swath. Got all that? Okay, then hang on for the rant.
Three, or maybe four weeks ago I started tearing out the carpet in the second parlor. I decided that since I'm all by myself here, I'd better tear it out in strips I can handle. Fifteen by fifteen room...yeah, three big pieces oughta do it. I tore up the first layer of carpet, rolled it up, and wrapped duct tape around it to hold it together. I tore up the padding and put it in trash bags. I tore up the bottom layer of carpet, rolled it up, and wrapped duct tape around it. Then I carried the whole shebang out to the trash. The bags went in the bin and the two pieces of rolled-up carpet went in the alley next to the trash bin. Three (or maybe four) weeks later I noted that one roll of carpet was still out in the alley. I called the trash company to complain. This conversation took place:
Trash Lady: How long is the carpet?
Me: I don't know, it's all rolled up. Like 15 feet.
TL: No, I mean, how long is it?
Me: You mean, how wide is it? I'd say 5 feet or so.
TL: Oh. Then that's why they didn't pick it up. It's too long. It has to be 4 feet long or less.
Me: What?! Why?
TL: It's just the rules. You should've gotten a list of the rules when you moved.
Me: Well, I didn't. I just have the joy of finding these things out as I go along.
TL: Yeah, cut it shorter and we'll pick it up. And it must be tied with string or tape. Otherwise you can rent a dumpster.
Me: I don't want to rent a dumpster. I want you to pick up my carpet the way you always have for the past two years without all this hassle.
TL: Well, if they picked it up before they shouldn't have.
And that was the end of that. No amount of explanation swayed her. She was utterly unconvinced that a roll of carpet exceeding 4 feet in width had ever been picked up at my house or at anyone else's house. She did not believe me when I told her that I'd dragged it out to the alley without so much as an inch of tape or string on it and it had been picked up. She scoffed when I told her that one bright morning the trash haulers had picked up at least six rolls of carpet from my house. Impossible, she said. Only one roll at a time. Cut the roll to four feet or less, she said. Make sure you tape or tie it. Apparently the trash company does not negotiate. So I went outside, hopping mad, in the rain mind you, to measure the roll of carpet. Four feet five inches. Rats! I folded it in half. And as I was wrestling the duct tape around the folded-in-half roll of carpet, I saw it. The other roll of carpet. The carpet I'd just told her had been picked up by the trash man last week. There it was, tucked neatly between my neighbor's garage and another neighbor's fence. What the Sam Hill?! How did it get there? Surely the neighbors don't intend to use it. Did the neighbors put it there? Did the trash man hide it? Was it dragged there by coyotes?
Now folks, I am not good at math, but I figure the remaining carpet in the second parlor is about 12 feet wide. That means I'll have to cut it into at least three strips to meet the trash company's criteria. There are two layers of carpet. That would be 6 rolls of carpet if I roll them separately, or 3 rolls if I manage to roll the two layers of carpet together somehow. If they pick up only one roll a week....well, y'all can figure out that it will take some time to get rid of all the carpet from my second parlor. I think this is some scheme to make people rent a dumpster. There's no place for a dumpster on my property. If I put it out in the alley, my neighbor won't be able to park his truck behind his house. Not to mention that I'm cheap and I don't want to spend the money for a dumpster. Darnit.
In a snit, I called White Trash Bob. He listened to me rant and when I paused for breath, he said, "I find that if I put a six-pack of beer out there on top of the trash, they'll pick up anything." Hey, it's worth a try...
The List, Reviewed
Back in January I made a list of projects I wanted to complete by the end of the year. It was my first-ever-in-my-whole-life list, and I made it hoping that putting my goals in writing would help me stick to them. With less than a week left in this year, I thought it might be a good time to review The List and see how I did:
Finish painting the exterior of the house. Except for two porch windows and an errant piece of trim here and there, it's done. Whoo-hoo!
Re-roof the carport. Well....no. But I do have a plan. I'm gonna strip off what's left of the rotted roof and put up fiberglass panels. Here's hoping the ceiling joists of the carport are in good shape. That project will have to wait until spring.
Tear up the rest of the carpet in the house. Does almost count? Only the pee-pee carpet remains, and a third of that is gone. Why only a third of it is gone is a rant for another post...
Scrape the rest of the painted-over wallpaper off the entryway and front parlor walls. Another no. It's a tedious job that I pick at here and there but can't stick with long enough to get finished.
New flooring in the master bath. Yep. However...in the process of removing the old carpet and linoleum, I found some water damage to the floor between the tub and the toilet. So, this flooring is only temporary.
Paper the dining room. Um, no again. This is the Next Big Thing to be done.
Fix the front porch. Boy, did we! Thanks to a lot of help from Mare, this one got done, and better than I imagined.
Tear down the backyard shed. Done—thanks to a stranger who wandered up to the front door and asked if he could have the shed. I like it when something gets crossed off the list with no effort by me.
So, half the things on my list were completed this year. But half the things were not completed. Oh. Fifty percent is an F, isn't it? But the two biggest projects on the list did get finished. That ought to count for something. A greater weight in the grade, you know. And a bunch of other stuff got done too: the kitchen, which wasn't even on the list; WTB and I did a small landscaping project, (which I just realized I never took pictures of), there are no more holes in the outside of the house...
But let's get back to the purpose of The List in the first place. It was supposed to keep me focused. Eyes on the prize and all that. Did it? Nah. I ran amok and did whatever I darn well wanted all year, just like every year. And that's not all bad. I accomplished a heckuva lot this year. I will next year, too. But next year, there will be no list.
Re-roof the carport. Well....no. But I do have a plan. I'm gonna strip off what's left of the rotted roof and put up fiberglass panels. Here's hoping the ceiling joists of the carport are in good shape. That project will have to wait until spring.
Tear up the rest of the carpet in the house. Does almost count? Only the pee-pee carpet remains, and a third of that is gone. Why only a third of it is gone is a rant for another post...
Scrape the rest of the painted-over wallpaper off the entryway and front parlor walls. Another no. It's a tedious job that I pick at here and there but can't stick with long enough to get finished.
Paper the dining room. Um, no again. This is the Next Big Thing to be done.
So, half the things on my list were completed this year. But half the things were not completed. Oh. Fifty percent is an F, isn't it? But the two biggest projects on the list did get finished. That ought to count for something. A greater weight in the grade, you know. And a bunch of other stuff got done too: the kitchen, which wasn't even on the list; WTB and I did a small landscaping project, (which I just realized I never took pictures of), there are no more holes in the outside of the house...
But let's get back to the purpose of The List in the first place. It was supposed to keep me focused. Eyes on the prize and all that. Did it? Nah. I ran amok and did whatever I darn well wanted all year, just like every year. And that's not all bad. I accomplished a heckuva lot this year. I will next year, too. But next year, there will be no list.
Merry Christmas!
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.
~Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby
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