...deserve their owns special place in Hell.
That is all.
2/10/2012
Bathroom remodel: Day 1 - demolition
What a long day. I feel bad saying this, as Shayne did pretty much all of the work. I made a trip to Lowes and picked up all of our fixtures and most of the tile. I also helped clean up. Shayne took care of all the physical labor and got the project rolling.
Thanks to him, the bathroom remodel has started with a day of demolition. We are very conservative about what we remove, and we try to save the original whenever possible and practical. Out of the 4 walls, a floor, and a ceiling in the bathroom, we took one wall down to the studs. We are leaving the others alone, as they are in good condition. Sadly, they are sheetrock over the plaster. I had contemplated ripping out the sheetrock only, then repairing the plaster underneath. But in the end, I couldn't find a compelling reason for the extra work. The sheetrock, while obviously not original, is in good shape. It would be wasteful to rip it out just because I'd prefer plaster. The wall that we did remove will house the new water supply lines for the sink. It also had the electrical in it, which (as expected) was not up to code. K, the PPO, had jury-rigged the GFCI outlets. We found a junction box in the wall where it was just directly hooked to the old knob and tube. I was disappointed that the man hadn't properly wired a room he had remodeled, but not at all surprised. Par for the course; we've seen enough of his "handiwork" by now to know what to expect.
In addition to his incompetence at wiring, K was also not so great with drywall. He only put up sheetrock in the places that would be visible, so there was none behind the vanity or the floor-to-ceiling cabinet in the corner. Not even on the ceiling. That man was a cheapskate! I'm expecting that we'll find the same thing behind the shower and adjoining cabinet when we remove it on Monday.
While today was really productive, I also found it really demoralizing. I know that demo is the low point because you are taking something that is functional, though not particularly attractive, and making it ugly and temporarily useless. I know that the bathroom I've envisioned for YEARS now is finally on its way to appearing in my house. I know that in 2 weeks, we'll be just about finished, since we're hiring someone else to do the work instead of learning as we go and slogging our way through on sheer willpower. But after we demo (and by "demo" I mean everything from ripping up carpet to tearing down walls), I get this overwhelming feeling of, "Oh shit, what did we just do?" I'm not energized or excited to be starting. I'm mentally tired and sad. This is the point where I can't see the finished product and just wonder how in the heck it's all going to work out. But it will. It always does. But I don't know many people who would be excited to have a bathroom that looks like this (though at least now the dust has settled!):
Here's what we started with:
I will say this: having the corner cabinet and clunky vanity gone has made the room seem so much bigger. Obviously, it looks like hell right now, but I feel like we knocked out a wall or something. It's that dramatic.
Stay tuned for more tomorrow, after we remove the hardboard and plywood underlayment.
Thanks to him, the bathroom remodel has started with a day of demolition. We are very conservative about what we remove, and we try to save the original whenever possible and practical. Out of the 4 walls, a floor, and a ceiling in the bathroom, we took one wall down to the studs. We are leaving the others alone, as they are in good condition. Sadly, they are sheetrock over the plaster. I had contemplated ripping out the sheetrock only, then repairing the plaster underneath. But in the end, I couldn't find a compelling reason for the extra work. The sheetrock, while obviously not original, is in good shape. It would be wasteful to rip it out just because I'd prefer plaster. The wall that we did remove will house the new water supply lines for the sink. It also had the electrical in it, which (as expected) was not up to code. K, the PPO, had jury-rigged the GFCI outlets. We found a junction box in the wall where it was just directly hooked to the old knob and tube. I was disappointed that the man hadn't properly wired a room he had remodeled, but not at all surprised. Par for the course; we've seen enough of his "handiwork" by now to know what to expect.
In addition to his incompetence at wiring, K was also not so great with drywall. He only put up sheetrock in the places that would be visible, so there was none behind the vanity or the floor-to-ceiling cabinet in the corner. Not even on the ceiling. That man was a cheapskate! I'm expecting that we'll find the same thing behind the shower and adjoining cabinet when we remove it on Monday.
While today was really productive, I also found it really demoralizing. I know that demo is the low point because you are taking something that is functional, though not particularly attractive, and making it ugly and temporarily useless. I know that the bathroom I've envisioned for YEARS now is finally on its way to appearing in my house. I know that in 2 weeks, we'll be just about finished, since we're hiring someone else to do the work instead of learning as we go and slogging our way through on sheer willpower. But after we demo (and by "demo" I mean everything from ripping up carpet to tearing down walls), I get this overwhelming feeling of, "Oh shit, what did we just do?" I'm not energized or excited to be starting. I'm mentally tired and sad. This is the point where I can't see the finished product and just wonder how in the heck it's all going to work out. But it will. It always does. But I don't know many people who would be excited to have a bathroom that looks like this (though at least now the dust has settled!):
 | ||
| Note how the drywall doesn't extend much past the window... Also the layers of flooring: linoleum over hardboard over plywood. Awesome. |
 |
| See the hanging junction box where the new wire connects to the old knob and tube? The new PVC is our work from last summer, which is why the other side of the wall is open as well. |
 |
| The angle isn't the same, so you can't see the HUGE floor-to-ceiling corner cabinet |
Stay tuned for more tomorrow, after we remove the hardboard and plywood underlayment.
1/14/2012
The lost art of hospitality
I've been thinking a lot about how our social lives will change when I am no longer working full time. So much of my social interaction takes place at work; I rarely go out, I prefer one-on-one or small group interaction, and being on second shift makes it difficult to coordinate with others. And while I consider myself a homebody, I know that I will miss interacting with some of my co-workers on a regular basis. Right now, any need for additional socializing is met by meeting a friend or family for a meal at a restaurant. But that just won't be possible as often on a single income. Which got me thinking...
Why don't people have others over for dinner anymore? Maybe it's just the folks that I tend to interact with, but it seems that we rarely open our homes to others, even the people we are closest to. Although we have my mom and my in-laws over for dinner at holidays or birthday celebrations, and we usually have a big cook-out in the summer, we've never invited friends to just come over to have dinner.
Why not? I thought I'd be able to cone up with a lot of reasons not to have people over, as it seems to be somewhat anxiety-producing for a lot of people. But what it really boils down to is that my house isn't as organized as I wish it was. And every single person I know has the same thoughts about their house. But would a dinner experience be ruined if there were a few odds and ends out of place? When you go to someone's house, do you care if they still have a Christmas wreath up in March? As long as it is reasonably clean, the food is edible, and your host/hostess is welcoming, does anything else really matter?
I want our home to be a gathering place for family and friends. I want my children to grow up knowing how to treat guests properly. I want to be able to socialize without having to go somewhere, do something, or spend money. I don't want to use my house just as a place to sleep.
And so, this year, I'm going to open my home. In spite of its imperfections, its clutter, and my own anxieties, I'm going to try to have someone (besides family) over for dinner once every other month. I'm hoping that it will increase my satisfaction with my house, and help me to build stronger relationships with my friends that aren't dependent on my workplace. And maybe it'll even save me a bit of money and help me to keep on-track organizing and simplifying my home.
11/27/2011
Modern homesteading: Empowering or enslaving?
I read this article yesterday, and I'm still mulling over how I feel about it. Unlike the author, my grandmother canned, sewed, and cooked and baked from scratch. She also used some convenience foods, like Velveeta, but the overall theme in her life seemed to be to make your own, make do, or do without. She was always very frugal, and despite only working outside the home for maybe 20 years of her life (including the time spent working at a bomber plant during WWII, after which she returned to homemaking), she managed to end up with a nice little nest egg.
My mother had a different story. As a single parent, she had to work full-time. But she still found time to cook from scratch, and she taught me that life is more about experiences than material trappings. All of my aunts are crafty, and they all cook.
While I disliked cooking and domestic pursuits growing up, it seemed kind of natural that I would grow into it. And then I took it a step further. I am the only one in my family with livestock. The last I knew, I was the only one who gardens. And while my aunt and two of my cousins get together every year to can tomatoes, I'm the only one who cans and freezes in any sort of serious volume.
Do I feel enslaved by my efforts to be more self-sufficient? Not at all. I love knowing that I am providing healthful food for myself and my family. I love knowing that I am helping to continue what women (and men) have done for thousands of years by working the land and growing food from seeds and sunlight. I love that it's good for the earth.
But. I do feel like feminism has seriously backfired in some ways. Women now seem to feel like they should work outside the home, whether they want to be a stay-at-home mother/homemaker or not. I know that when I've mentioned to some friends - and male friends at that! - they have actively discouraged me from staying at home. "But what will you do all day?" "Won't you be bored?" and, "Women who stay at home always let themselves go," are all things I've heard when I mention how nice it would be not to work. While the feminist movement opened a lot of doors and highlighted that women can be just as capable as men in the workplace, I don't think that it ever considered whether it was right for everyone. Staying home was portrayed as slavery. But now aren't many women just as enslaved by their 9-to-5 jobs? Work is work, whether you are keeping house or working your way up the corporate ladder.
Right now, I'm doing it all. I'm raising my son, cooking from scratch, canning, gardening, cleaning (though Shayne takes care of the kitchen [thank you!]), and working a full-time job. Is it stressful? Sometimes. Do I feel pinched for time? Occasionally. But would I give up my domestic pursuits? Not a chance. I'd ditch my job first. Right now, I'm working so that we can afford to fix up our house and pay it off sooner. Once that's done, you can bet your hat that I'll quit and spend even more time living my real life.
My mother had a different story. As a single parent, she had to work full-time. But she still found time to cook from scratch, and she taught me that life is more about experiences than material trappings. All of my aunts are crafty, and they all cook.
While I disliked cooking and domestic pursuits growing up, it seemed kind of natural that I would grow into it. And then I took it a step further. I am the only one in my family with livestock. The last I knew, I was the only one who gardens. And while my aunt and two of my cousins get together every year to can tomatoes, I'm the only one who cans and freezes in any sort of serious volume.
Do I feel enslaved by my efforts to be more self-sufficient? Not at all. I love knowing that I am providing healthful food for myself and my family. I love knowing that I am helping to continue what women (and men) have done for thousands of years by working the land and growing food from seeds and sunlight. I love that it's good for the earth.
But. I do feel like feminism has seriously backfired in some ways. Women now seem to feel like they should work outside the home, whether they want to be a stay-at-home mother/homemaker or not. I know that when I've mentioned to some friends - and male friends at that! - they have actively discouraged me from staying at home. "But what will you do all day?" "Won't you be bored?" and, "Women who stay at home always let themselves go," are all things I've heard when I mention how nice it would be not to work. While the feminist movement opened a lot of doors and highlighted that women can be just as capable as men in the workplace, I don't think that it ever considered whether it was right for everyone. Staying home was portrayed as slavery. But now aren't many women just as enslaved by their 9-to-5 jobs? Work is work, whether you are keeping house or working your way up the corporate ladder.
Right now, I'm doing it all. I'm raising my son, cooking from scratch, canning, gardening, cleaning (though Shayne takes care of the kitchen [thank you!]), and working a full-time job. Is it stressful? Sometimes. Do I feel pinched for time? Occasionally. But would I give up my domestic pursuits? Not a chance. I'd ditch my job first. Right now, I'm working so that we can afford to fix up our house and pay it off sooner. Once that's done, you can bet your hat that I'll quit and spend even more time living my real life.
11/26/2011
Ready? Not.
I had another "end of the world" type dream last night. I don't dream about this stuff often (and I wrote about it last time I did, on January 19th, so it's been almost a year), and I'm glad. It scares me. I wake up in a near-panic about how absolutely unprepared I am to face any kind of disaster.
This dream had a different premise from the first one. There had been some kind of governmental evacuation, and Shayne, Ethan, my mom, and I were all living in what looked like an extended-stay hotel or small apartment. Something bad had happened, and they were preparing to evacuate us again. We could only take a bag or two of belongings. I remember being in a panic about where the batteries, firestarters, flashlights, and warm clothes were. I wanted to take guns and ammo, but I knew that the government would be checking our bags. I also wanted to get some cash, but so many people had the same idea that both the bank and ATM were out of money. I kept thinking how much easier it would be if we had ignored the evacuation and stayed home.
I woke up feeling awful. I'm not ready.
I'm not sure it's ever really possible to be completely ready for a disaster. And even if you were, the disaster itself could wipe out all your preps. But we only have one alternative source of heat, with a finite lifespan (kerosene heater). I don't have seeds. I'm not ready to pack a bag and bail out. Aside from birds, I don't know how to field-dress a kill. We only have a good stash of .223 ammo, though we have several weapons of other calibers.
My mind is just buzzing. On days like this, I want to just pack up and buy a house/land in the middle of nowhere. But I know that isn't the solution either. We need our "tribe" and our family close by, since we all have different skills and strengths. If there was a real SHTF (shit hits the fan) scenario, loners are going to have a hard time after a while. Many hands lighten the load.
I'm trying to talk myself down and remember everything we do have. Even with our limited preps and gardening abilities, we're still more prepared than 99% of the population. But I've decided that a wood-burning stove is the next big project after the bathroom. Freezing to death isn't high on my list of ways to die, and it would be essential if we were to shelter in place with kids in the event of a lengthy power outage.
This dream had a different premise from the first one. There had been some kind of governmental evacuation, and Shayne, Ethan, my mom, and I were all living in what looked like an extended-stay hotel or small apartment. Something bad had happened, and they were preparing to evacuate us again. We could only take a bag or two of belongings. I remember being in a panic about where the batteries, firestarters, flashlights, and warm clothes were. I wanted to take guns and ammo, but I knew that the government would be checking our bags. I also wanted to get some cash, but so many people had the same idea that both the bank and ATM were out of money. I kept thinking how much easier it would be if we had ignored the evacuation and stayed home.
I woke up feeling awful. I'm not ready.
I'm not sure it's ever really possible to be completely ready for a disaster. And even if you were, the disaster itself could wipe out all your preps. But we only have one alternative source of heat, with a finite lifespan (kerosene heater). I don't have seeds. I'm not ready to pack a bag and bail out. Aside from birds, I don't know how to field-dress a kill. We only have a good stash of .223 ammo, though we have several weapons of other calibers.
My mind is just buzzing. On days like this, I want to just pack up and buy a house/land in the middle of nowhere. But I know that isn't the solution either. We need our "tribe" and our family close by, since we all have different skills and strengths. If there was a real SHTF (shit hits the fan) scenario, loners are going to have a hard time after a while. Many hands lighten the load.
I'm trying to talk myself down and remember everything we do have. Even with our limited preps and gardening abilities, we're still more prepared than 99% of the population. But I've decided that a wood-burning stove is the next big project after the bathroom. Freezing to death isn't high on my list of ways to die, and it would be essential if we were to shelter in place with kids in the event of a lengthy power outage.
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