TERRIBLE DECISIONS: Calm before the storm edition

I got it into my head to do some home improvement today.  My wife and I have figured out the schedule for the bathroom and expect to have all major renovations completed by Martin Luther King weekend and to repaint during Spring Break.  That sound you hear is God laughing; longtime readers remember how long tiling the bathroom took.

I started off with simple stuff:

IMG_2113I really, really tried to get my son to ask for either the Captain America’s shield or Mjolnir variation of this nightlight, but he wasn’t having it; it was Iron Man’s hand or nothing.  The sticker was actually the biggest pain in the butt on this one; additional fun was had upon realizing someone had stolen the hardware out of the particular box we’d purchased, and additional additional fun was had upon realizing that the two places in the back where you mount the screws are different sizes, one far too small for any other screw I had, so I had to get creative with a nail.  Whatever, it’s solidly attached and not going anywhere unless we want it to (the batteries will need changing eventually) and the kid loves it so screw you, nail.

Then a minor improvement to the bathroom:

IMG_2115It would have made sense to complete all the work before adding things like towel racks, but I’d gotten tired of having to walk across the bathroom to get my towel when I invariably forgot to put it on top of the toilet tank before my shower.  This was actually a piece of cake to install; they include a paper template that you can attach to the wall with painter’s tape to make sure you drill the holes in the right places, and the design is pretty forgiving of minor mistakes anyway.  This is also rock-solid and not going anywhere.

On to the day’s big project.  Our microwave is from 1992.  It came with the house.  It still cooked food, which is, after all, the primary purpose of a microwave, but the light underneath it had gone bad (not the bulb, the light itself had died) and the button to make the fan work was getting increasingly more difficult to deal with, and being from 1992 it didn’t have a turntable, so it was time for an upgrade.

It would have cost an additional $114 to have them install.  “Scoff!” I scoffed.  “I retiled my bathroom!  I put a stereo into my car!  I can do this!”

Step the first: tear out the old microwave.  This took a bit of time, not because it was difficult but because we wanted to make sure that at no point did the microwave fall out of its spot in the cabinets, so we had to make absolutely sure we knew where all the appropriate screws were and what they’d loosen before we pulled them off– because, see, if the microwave ever falls, it lands on our countertop range, which is glass, and then we’re out $1300 for a new one.  So we gotta be careful.

I failed to get a picture of the old microwave in situ.  Here’s what the hole looked like, with a few holes bashed in the drywall behind it to make sure I knew where the studs were:

IMG_2116To make sure you appreciate it, a close-up of what was apparently the kitchen’s original wallpaper:

IMG_2118The old microwave, consigned to the garage until we figure out if it’s legal to just throw it in the trash:

IMG_2120Wanna see what 22 years of never cleaning the exhaust fan on your microwave looks like?  I only threw up six times:

IMG_2121At this point there was a pause, to very carefully read and understand everything and use the templates they gave us and make sure everything was going to work properly.  The actual installation itself wasn’t any more complicated than drilling a couple of holes and mounting the wall bracket against the back wall; not a big deal.

Take a look at that picture of the hole up there.  See that piece of trim running horizontally underneath the cabinets?  That was causing us some problems, as the lag bolts they gave us to mount the microwave under the cabinets weren’t quite long enough.  So Dad and I ran out to Lowe’s to come up with a better solution.  We came up with something we both thought would work and came back, ready to have a working microwave ten minutes later.

Ha.

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The problem we hadn’t noticed: the template for the back of the microwave fit perfectly on the back wall.  We knew that the trim was going to cause problems and bought appropriate bolts.  It didn’t hit us until trying to mount the thing that we couldn’t actually install it flush because the template against the wall extended up higher than the trim.  So the microwave was at maybe a 20 degree tilt forward, meaning that the only way I was going to get it to hold in place was with bungee cord.

The trim had to come out.

I’ll spare you the details; there was lots of consternation about whether the trim in any way represented structure (don’t think so; at this point really hope not) and how best to get it out without noticeably damaging the cabinets around it.  The thing was screwed in place in some really weird ways and getting it out required some creative use of my dremel and the new drill bits I’d bought to install the towel rack.  (Yes, I was at the hardware store twice today.)  But eventually it came out and as of right now, an hour or so later, the microwave hasn’t pulled all of our cabinets out of the ceiling yet, so I think it’s installed properly.  The fan ducting even lined up right, although the original owners installed the duct backwards so I need to go in tomorrow and retape everything.  But we have a working microwave again!

IMG_2119And there was much goddamn rejoicing.

Books of 2014 post tomorrow, I swear.

TERRIBLE DECISIONS: In which that took a year

IMG_2065Okay, the habit my wife and I share of taking forever to get shit done because we like to make sure we know exactly what we’re doing before we get into stuff and also we’re lazy and work six days a week has caused this project to take so, so, so much longer than it should, but you can’t really argue with results, can ya?  Sooner or later the grout will cure and then we can actually goddamn shower in there again!

And soon winter break will roll around and we can destroy the rest of the bathroom and start this all over again.

So psyched.

In which I provide too much information

IMG_1907I would like to complain about an aspect of my job, if you don’t mind.

I have certain issues with public bathrooms.  For example, I do not understand how anyone can talk to anyone else while… uh… performing in a stall.  It is literally the creepiest thing ever when people try to talk to me when I’m in a stall– particularly if they begin the conversation by making it clear that they don’t actually know who it is in there.  This is the one way in which I will declare as a broad statement that I don’t understand women; my understanding is that it’s a social hall in there and y’all go to the bathroom in packs.  Sometimes there are couches in your bathrooms?  Is this true?  I don’t get it.  It’s weird and y’all should stop being weird.

My dislike of communication in the bathroom extends to basically creating any sounds of any kind, honestly.  My preferred pooing atmosphere, if you will, is in a completely empty (other than the stall, which should be lockable even though there’s only one) and entirely soundproofed room.  I don’t mind people theoretically being able to hear me pee, but damn if my nethers don’t clamp up involuntarily upon someone else entering the bathroom.  I have to force myself to continue taking care of business if I know someone else is in there, even if that person is in another stall and actively making the noises that I’m trying not to make.

Yes, I know.  I’m messed up.  I admit it.

There are two adult bathrooms at my new place of business.  One of them is a one-seater and is effectively a private men’s room for the office.  That bathroom has two problems:  1) it is directly outside the principal’s office and 2) I am one of only three men who might ever use it, and one of the other two is frequently not in the office, so not only is there a theoretical chance that my boss might hear me in there but if I power bomb the place everyone is going to know it was me.  This cannot stand.

Allow me to continue.  The picture attached to this post is of the two stalls in the other staff men’s room in my building.  Take a look at it for a moment and see if you can see the problem.

Yes?  No?

Okay, let’s be more specific: look at how tall the doors are, and then look at how tall the partition between the stalls is.

I am five feet ten inches tall.  That puts me at just about exactly the average height for a white American male my age.  When I am standing up, which I will be doing when, uh, completing the process of the… uh… process, my entire head is above that partition.  And if there happens to be another man in the stall next to me, and that man finishes at the same time I do, we can look at each other and make eye contact.

There is nothing more horrifying in the entire universe, except for the possibility of an exceptionally tall person (they’d need about six to eight inches on me, I estimate) walking into that stall, because that person would be tall enough to see me just by looking down.  And that would cause horror enough to kill me on the spot and force me to haunt the bathroom for the rest of eternity.

There is nowhere safe to poo in this building.  I need to either massively adjust my diet or get a new job.

GOD DAMN YOU FOUR TILES

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The accent tile has got to be completely dry before I can put a tile above it, or it crushes the mesh and shoves them together.  

The accent tile is not dry.  It’ll take another hour before I’m comfortable.

My mortar is not going to last another hour, and I’m out of mortar.  As it is 8 PM on a Sunday, I cannot acquire more mortar at this time.

Which means it’s going to take ANOTHER GODDAMN DAY TO GET MY TILE DONE.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHHHHHH.

(There’s a weird optical illusion on the left side of the image, where it looks like some of the tiles are either totally the wrong size or cut in weird places.  Not the case.  it’s the reflection of the grout lines on the tile on the side facing the shower faucet.)

Terrible Decisions: So far so good

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The left wall is completed except for the bullnose edge, which is going to be a piece of cake, and the larger middle wall is well along its way– the gap in between it and the walls on the left and right are all tiles that have to be cut to size.  We are figuring that we’ll spend the evening after the boy goes to bed cutting tiles and then we’ll actually finish the job later this week.  I hung nineteen tiles today, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but shit, I’m exhausted.  Bek has been trying to cut the tile, which is turning out to be hellishly complicated, and we’ve each ruined a couple of them trying to get it done right.

One more day ought to do it, though.

In which my day refuses to start

Hellaciously busy evening last night; I didn’t get home from OtherJob until after midnight, then got up a bit after 8 this morning and spent some time lying on the couch and moaning.

Most of today will be spent tiling, and I mean that f’reals this time, since the measuring that took up most of Thursday is already done.  One big difference: today will involve cutting tile, which gives us a whole new way to screw stuff up.

So… whee?

Whee.

Pictures and the usual as the job goes on.  Or, y’know, the sudden ending of all life on Earth.

Terrible Decisions: oh shut up

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Yes, these 12 tiles and one row of mosaic represent a day’s work. Mostly because my wife spent about ten hours carefully measuring and marking everything off with lines that I proceeded to mostly ignore or treat as vague suggestions while actually tiling. We discovered the hard way, but before doing actual damage, that you can’t put a full tile that size over mosaic until the mosaic is fully dry, which is why the area above the mosaic looks mopped down: it was.

More Saturday, I think.

Terrible Decisions: The Hard Part

Okay.

I’m tiling my bathtub surround today.

I can do this.

No one is going to die.

I am not going to fuck up.

I will still have two bathrooms at the end of the day.

I’m good enough, and I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.

Expect pictures and swearing as the day goes on.