It's always something

Saturday morning. A simple project with a beginning, middle and end. An hour. Maybe two. Tops. The target? Simply converting the skinny, otherwise useless closet in the back hall to a pantry-like space. A snap. Right?

Our old house has heaps of charm, but it's a bit light on the storage space frontier. Liane and I have had designs on retrofitting what was most likely a broom closet just off the kitchen into a more useful space that will accommodate some of the taller items that won't fit into our 70s era non-adjustable kitchen cabinets. We successfully did this in our previous old house in Cleveland Heights. There, and here, I opted for ClosetMaid's wire shelving products. I've been using these simple DIY shelving systems since the mid-80s because they're easy to install and keep clean. I favor the adjustable variety for obvious reasons.

When I was in Sioux Falls last week I swung by Lowe's and picked up everything on my list. A pair of adjustable rails, a four-foot section of 16 inch deep shelving, toggle bolts, the little rubber end caps they overcharge for. Oh, and I really should grab a new tape measure, even though it's not on my list. And I want to take a look at the... Fast forward. Thirty minutes later after slaking my thirst for finding (but not buying!) solutions to problems I don't really have, I'm out the door and headed back home.

When Saturday morning arrived I embarked on my simple project. But when I opened the closet door I was reminded of the last remaining scrap of carpet yet to be removed from the first floor. A tiny bit of hideous indoor-outdoor stuff -- so popular in this house -- glued (of course!) to the hardwood floor. Better find the knee pads, this is gonna take a while. And sure enough, almost two hours later I had the carpet and the insipid glued-down-foam backing hand scraped off the oak flooring. Now I could get on with the task at hand.

Using a small torpedo level I hung the two bracket rails on the back wall of the closet. Next I cut the wire shelf into a test piece 16 inches wide. I fitted the overpriced rubber end caps on the sharp edges and held the shelf in place to check for fit. So far, so good. Now all I need is a pair of shelf brackets. Shelf brackets. Where are the shelf brackets? I should have six of them. They've got to be here somewhere. Check bag. Nada. Basement? Nope. Did I even buy the shelf brackets? Find Lowe's receipt. No brackets. Duh!

So stay tuned friends. This one is definitely going to take more than five times longer. An unexpectedly long beginning. A protracted middle. Hopefully, after I visit Lowe's later this week, a humble end.

First Class Glass

Yesterday as I was leaving a meeting on The University of South Dakota campus, I happened upon a crew installing new windows in an old house on the edge of campus. The house was built around the same time as ours (1916). Despite its being retrofitted into faculty offices, it shares some architectural similarities with our place. I couldn't resist asking what was to become of the old sash windows the guys were piling into their truck. "We've got a huge dumpster back at the shop," was the reply. Gasp!

The old wavy window glass was full of imperfections. Perfect! Exactly what an old house restoration nut job would look for. I had to persist. "Mind if I relieve you from having to pitch some of these?" "Help yourself. Take all you like." With all deliberate haste I backed the wagon around and loaded every one of them. They now sit safely rescued in the garage along with some other divided light panels of an earlier vintage that I rescued a couple of weeks ago. Who said I couldn't get an architectural salvage operation going in Vermillion?

Some of this vintage glass will be put to use when I replace the many cracked panes on the interior French doors between the dining room and reading nook. Other pieces will come in handy when I replicate a multi-light window that was lost owing to a window air conditioner being installed in its stead on the second floor. And those are just the projects I can think of today!

Good that we didn't move here for the warm weather

This morning a little after eight, the thermometer on our car's dashboard read minus six. A neighbor reported his read minus twelve. That's -6F and -12F respectively. Make no mistake. It's cold outside. But at least it's sunny! Over the last week or so, gauging from the height of the snow on the bird baths near the driveway, we've picked up about a foot of the fluffy white stuff.

Fletcher and Audrey love the deep snow. Audrey's favorite sport is soccer. We practice every day, weather not withstanding. Here's a picture of our little soccer superstar, wearing protective boots to guard her tiny paws from the cold.

Teacher says, "every time a bell rings...

...an angel gets its wings."

In her later years, my beloved paternal grandmother, Ethel, used to keep a bell near her bed. She would ring it whenever she needed the attention of a caregiver who was staying with her. A few weeks ago, while unpacking the last of our belongings from the move to SD, I came upon the little bell. It's not fancy. Just simple steel with a cast iron clanger on a rusty, bent paper clip. At around the same time I read an article about dogs learning to alert their people when they needed to step outside. The author suggested hanging a bell near the door, at dog level. Ring the bell when taking the dogs outside and they would soon make the connection and ring it on their own when they want to go out. Simple enough.

Motivated, I rounded up a number ten hollow wall, ribbed plastic anchor, polished up an old brass long-neck cup hook I had saved quite some time ago (for just such a purpose, as in "might need this some day"). With 1/4 inch drill bit chucked in the DeWalt drill motor, proceeded to mount the bell near the back door. At just the right height for Corgis, of course.

Fletcher was initially fearful of the bell, though he seems to be getting used to it now. Audrey, on the other hand, got it pretty much straight away. Liane and I were downright gleeful the first time she rang it. We're optimistic that Fletcher will eventually put his courage to the sticking place and give an angel its wings too. I've no doubt that my grandmother Ethel earned hers long ago and would be pleased to know that her little bell is again on active duty.

That odor can't be good news

It might be argued that an old house homeowner hasn't truly lived until suffering the horrors and indignities of a sanitary waste line clog and consequential backup. Well, dear friends, let me assure you that we are living large. With bonus points for weekend timing and extra credit for it being a long holiday weekend!

I'll spare you the grim details. Suffice it to say we're grateful to Steve and Joshua of Steve's Comfort Systems -- local heating, cooling and plumbing experts of the highest caliber -- for coming to our rescue. Today, Liane and I are genuinely appreciating something we all too often take for granted. Clean drain pipes.

This episode only confirms what we already suspected. We're on borrowed time in the waste line and vent stack department. Stay tuned for a future update on the plans to replace all of the four inch output infrastructure, Hopefully, we won't have to dig all the way to the street, but we will have to get underneath the basement's concrete floor. Makes wallpaper removal look absolutely delightful, doesn't it?

Here's a picture of the intrepid Joshua controlling the mighty Spartan drain auger.

Peeling back the years

Wallpaper removal. Just saying it is, for some, like fingernails on a blackboard.

Yesterday, with a deep breath, I steeled my courage and embarked on a new project. Removing the disgusting, nicotine stained wallpaper from the first floor bathroom. Early picking at the fringes behind the door informed me that I would be confronting just one layer of paper and that it was glued to drywall, not plaster. Drywall that was installed when the bathroom was "modernized" sometime probably in the 70s. I was dubious. Drywall and wallpaper are strange bedfellows when the drywall isn't primed with a coat of paint. Courage.

Far be it from me to suggest that anyone who would glue wallpaper directly to unpainted drywall is stupid. That would be an insult to stupid people everywhere. Instead I'll just say that I got lucky. In the places where the wallpaper was attached to unpainted drywall the paper gave up without much of a fuss leaving the drywall intact. At least this was the case behind the door.

Out in the open, another matter. Removing the nicotine stained paper revealed an unexpected second layer in another, darker design. See mention in previous post about projects taking five times longer then expected. The good news? The drywall had been primed with a coat of paint so, for the most part, removal of the second layer was a repeat of the first. The walls need a few patching repairs from picture hooks and such, but it appears we'll be applying a coat of fresh primer soon.

Top: removal of the first layer. Bottom: revealing the second layer... SURPRISE!

Even more sunshine!

Yesterday, the city's public works crew cut down a mature silver maple tree across the street on Lewis. In local parlance, the tree was on the boulevard. In Cleveland we would refer to this thin patch of green between the sidewalk and street curb as the tree lawn. I knew, when we bought the house a few months ago, that this tree was doomed to the chainsaw. It bore a large, white spray painted X on its trunk. Being fall, it was devoid of foliage, but I could tell from its scraggly shape that it had seen better days.

With the tree out of the way, our detached garage now has a clear line to the abundant year-round southern sunshine. If we ever find the means to install solar panels, we have an ideal setting.

Alas, I didn't get a picture of the crew in action, but will see about posting one with it gone.

Dumpster away!

You know your dumpster has worn out its welcome when neighbors start giving directions using it as a landmark. "We're two doors from the red dumpster." "Turn left on Canby just past the red dumpster. You can't miss it!"

Thankfully, Loren Fischer, our all-around terrific refuse service provider, came to collect the second of our two 30-yard walk-in dumpsters the other day. This auspicious event marks the first time we have access to the entire driveway and both garage bays. Loren has terrific and flexible service that is perfect for the DIY home restoration generalist! Thanks, Loren.

Loren hauled away just shy of five tons of debris!


With the dumpster gone, we now have a new view of the house and garage.

Couldn't get any yuckier!

First, let me thank everyone who e-mailed words of support for my efforts to find the lost Klein screwdriver. Shortly after my last post reporting its loss, I found it. Right where I left it. With the dog grooming tools. Not where it was supposed to be, mind you, but there nonetheless. Now for along overdue update on home restoration.

To help me avert disappointment my wife and best friend, Liane, often occasions to remind me that my projects, however well intentioned and prepared, will inevitably take five times longer than I anticipate. Words of wisdom that come from years of experience. So it should come as no surprise that my latest projects have taken much longer -- about five time in fact -- than I would have expected. Thus my explanation for lack of recent posts. I've been in the basement peeling back more layers.

A few months ago, when we were looking at this house with an eye toward buying it, many people familiar with the property had one comment in common. They all said it would take a special buyer. After tackling the most recent items on the honey-do list, let me say I'm feeling about as special as they come. Removing what was, at one time years ago, wall-to-wall carpet from the front porch might have seemed a fairly simple and straightforward task. So it was that I set about to yank it up and get it in the dumpster. What I didn't anticipate, of course, was the completely disintegrated black foam backing that had separated from the synthetic fabric as I pulled. Black powdery dust that went everywhere. Scraping it up only revealed a layer of petrified glue sitting atop several layers of old paint. Somewhere under all of this, there are nice tongue-and-groove porch boards, but just getting the deck to the point where we can walk on it will consume more than one shop vac filter and several more dust masks. Five times longer.

Anyway, I got all the carpet up and about two thirds of the black stuff scraped off and vacuumed up so we can at least get from the porch steps to the front door. The rest will come up in a day or two. After my back and knees recover. Showering up that day I decided this has to have been about the yuckiest job yet. Worse than the gross stuff piled up behind the shower in the basement. Well, maybe a tie. That one was pretty disgusting.

But no. There is yuckier. The next day, in a breathless effort to top up the second 30-yard dumpster before it got hauled away, I pulled the dark brown/gray paneling off the east wall in the basement. Underneath, the once clear plastic sheeting had melded with damp, moldy pink Fiberglass insulation. Hiding behind all of this were countless creepy crawlers. Weren't they surprised to see the light of day! They're all evicted. Dispatched to the dumpster along with the moldy 2x4 studs. Now most -- but not all -- of the stuff we want to get rid of downstairs is gone. The main task now is to get busy with the bleach sprayer and the shop vac. Paging Mr. Clean.

Here's a picture of the east basement wall with the paneling removed. It shows all of the studs and a few insulation bats before they were taken away.