The finished house: Blood, sweat, tears, paint, and beers

Nearly every day, I browse lovely sites and blogs featuring beautifully styled homes photographed in bright, natural light. They contain hard to come by vintage chairs whose owners have somehow picked them up at flea markets for pennies. Hand loomed rugs with ridiculous price tags that look like they’re from the flea market. Coffee table books stacked everywhere but coffee tables, by color and size. And close-up shots of painstakingly styled shelves, countertops, and windowsills, showing off a beloved collection of dust-free trinkets, “haphazardly” stacked artwork, well-established succulents, purposefully empty vases, and disposable time and money.

So when it came time to photograph Deep Eaves in her final, finished state, you could say I had expectations. However, I live in reality and not a modern home design site. Here in Jamaica Plain, as wonderful as it is, magical light does not stream through the windows. My modest budget could only buy so many props to fill 1,100 square feet on the unfurnished third floor – and the ones I did buy came from Ikea, Target, or West Elm’s sale section (let’s be honest, I’d shop at all three of those stores even with a bigger budget). And while most days I love that Lou and I don’t have a lot of “stuff,” looking through the lens of the camera my home furnishing inferiority, the empty dresser tops and sparse shelves left something (okay, lots of things) to be desired.

Of course, I don’t really care about the stuff. What really matters is that the photos shown here, taken by my dad, show off all our hard work. My dad visited for a long weekend and we spent a couple days shooting all the rooms from different locations, with different exposures, bracketing, and at different hours of the day. When he returned home, he spent hours on the photos, wrangling the shadows and bright spots so all that’s actually left is magical light. The only thing he didn’t do was work in any Eames chairs, Moroccan rugs, or art pieces. #photoshopfail

Here’s a selection of the photos with a few “befores” sprinkled in for fun. For the full set – only a few more than what’s seen here, turns out, visit the Flickr album.

Top of stairs entryway

guest bedroom

guest bedroom before

living room through to dining room to kitchen

living room before

stairwell going down from the third floor sitting room to the second floor bedroom

the space formerly known as the scary closet under the stairwell

Scary closet and stairwell before

new built-in with underwhelming amount of “stuff”

new built-in and entryway with vita light

entryway before (also, how many people can you spot in this photo?)

Flor covered stairs, perforated steel radiator screen

before: horrible mantel, linoleum, and carpet treads

pinterest-worthy coffee nook

kitchen

kitchen before

top of the stairs, third floor, and hallway to office

third floor hallway before

the master suite – bedroom

the dressing room in the master suite

master suite before

the sitting room in the master suite

window seat in the sitting room

sitting room before (FKA third floor kitchen?)

sitting room sans window seat before (FKA third floor kitchen?)

the office

the office before

third floor bath sink

third floor bath shower (waiting on shower glass)

third floor bath before

Tornado season, here we come

Holy crap. I am so behind on updating y’all on Deep Eaves. Let’s just rip it off like a Band-Aid, shall we?

(suspense)

(more suspense)

(seriously though, it’s like Zayn Malik leaving One Direction big)

(it’s like Lynn just made a relevant pop culture reference big)

We’re selling the house and moving back to Texas.

There, I feel better. Now I don’t have to try to explain why the last few months have been so stressful, and silent on this front. I can tell you all about the updates we’ve made without being like, “I can’t wait to enjoy this subway tile for years to come! (lies! lies! lies!)”

I thought about doing a series of posts (and by series I obviously mean one) leading up to the big reveal to catch us all up on the serious amount of work that’s happened in the last few months but seeing as how even one post has been a challenge lately…

There came a point when Lou and I were wondering what we should do next. Not in an “errrrrm, should we redo the bathroom or the basement” sort of way, but in a “how long do we want to stay in Boston” sort of way.

And the answer for both of us was “meh, I could leave tomorrow.” Ok, not totally. That was only the answer if you asked ME, and during the months of January through um, yesterday. Boston is hard, but that (and all the places/oddities I will miss about the city) is for another blog post. Or not.

Basically, in the spring of 2014, we made the decision to stay through two years of home ownership at least to avoid capital gains, so that put us at the end of October 2014. Then we decided that late fall was no time to sell, and we had a signed lease with our tenants through spring 2015. And hey, spring 2015 was supposed to be a strong real estate market and would give us time to make the world’s longest list of improvements ever so we could sell the house for its full value.

Lou has always wanted to go out on his own and start a residential design-build firm, and between all his contacts there, the fact that people still build (as opposed to just renovate 1880s structures), things are cheaper, and all our friends are really in Dallas, the decision was made. Sure, Austin was contemplated. San Francisco, too. But in the end, queso and tornados and friends won out.

New chapter starts now.

Now, back to The Prettiest Battleship. She’s about finished! All she needs are a few odds and ends, like for the shower glass to be installed (any day now). I’m still recovering, mentally and physically, from the last two weeks of ridiculous work, limited sleep, horrible eating, and nerves associated with getting the house ready for photographing, listing, and multiple showings and open houses. I will talk about it, but not today.

Pretty photos of clean, styled rooms coming later this week. Until then, the third floor bathroom, because I feel I owe it to you after so many posts about its progress.

Hedge on a ledge (really, the selling point of the whole place if you ask me).

Bathroom progress

Just a little glimpse at what’s to be a full bathroom, um, ANY DAY NOW. Hooray for Lou and our friend Jim for allllll the subway tile.

Waiting for my porcelain luxury

I wanted to call this bathroom update, “Slowly Making Progress” but then I thought, who am I to judge the timeline and the speed of the work? I’m not the one really doing the work. And more importantly, it’s not like we don’t have another bathroom and I’ve been standing with my legs crossed doing the pee dance for several months. That said, there are times recently when I’ve caught myself wishing we had a second bathroom, like, “Ugh I cannot wait until that bathroom is done.” And then I think OMG YOU ALREADY HAVE ONE BATHROOM, ISN’T THAT ENOUGH? WHO ARE YOU? WHAT’S NEXT ON YOUR WISHLIST? A HOUSECLEANER? A GARDENER? A KEURIG?!? And then I roll my eyes at myself and continue to ignore my very full bladder until our one lone bathroom frees up.

Now and then, I stop into the up-and-coming third floor bathroom and stand in generally the same place and take a photo. At first, this was just something I did, but then I realized I could document the evolution of the room from the same-ish spot and make a time-lapse thingy! You’re thinking “duh.” Sadly, this realization did not make me take better photos, only take them semi-consistently and then write this post.

First, the original bathroom at the time we bought the house.

Now, a not-super-well-produced animation from the time the bathroom was torn down to the studs plus a few new boards, to the fully framed room (that’s the part lou did), to the insulation (that’s the part I did), to the latest and greatest plastered walls (that’s the part we paid someone to do). You may have to click the image to make it replay. derp.

 

That’s nice, you say. A grayish box full of angles. I can totally see it! So I guess you want to know what the bathroom will look like? Me too.

It starts with a grey cork floor. What does that even mean? Well, it’s grey. It’s got a slight pattern to it. It’s smooth, not like actual bumpy rubbery cork (looking at you, winos) at least not the finished surface that you walk on. The cork is in long boards that will run across the room (like large wooden planks). Cork is lightweight, so we didn’t have to worry about reinforcing the old joists or a lawsuit from when the bathroom comes crashing down on the bedroom below it. It’s no penny tile but hey, it doesn’t cost or weigh as much as tile, or take the installation work of tile. And it’s grey, so really, what more could you ask for?

From there, we have white walls going up to the sloping ceiling. That’s not Lou’s modern architecture, just the eaves of the house. The walls that wrap around the shower area will have subway tile on the bottom half (the vertical part, not the upper angled parts). A glass partition and door will separate the shower from the rest of the room. We wanted it to be open and to be able to just walk into the shower, but flooring issues. I’ll leave it at that.

There will be a few light fixtures. On one end of the bath (opposite the shower) there will be a sink and countertop with an open shelf down below. In the center of the bathroom, a wall-hung toilet, thus saving several inches of space in front of it for people on their way to the shower. And two windows, both with new glass that is not cracked or foggy. All of these items are still works in progress, or being discussed, or sitting in their boxes in the adjoining bedroom waiting to be unwrapped.

Finally, in classic Deep Eaves style, this bathroom was probably an add-on between 1940 and 1960, so the door opens out into the hall, instead of into the room like a proper door. Long story short, we aren’t tearing out the doorframe to redo it so it’s just going to be called character. That’s what people pay good money for, right?

An endless supply of Scary Closets

Oh, hey, what’s that over there in the corner of the bedroom? A ball of dog hair and dust the size of a tumbleweed? No, not that, the other thing. Oh! A door! Well where does it lead? You don’t know? You’ve never opened it? There’s an arctic draft coming from it? Sounds terrifying. Let’s open it up!

Ahhhhhhh! Eww! What is it? What is it?! Hang on, lemme turn on the light…Oh. Just another staircase. With more bad paint. And crumbling walls. And nasty linoleum. Classic Deep Eaves.

Yes, another set of stairs leading to another floor creating another space for dust, debris, dead bodies, ghosts, and potential to hide. And because I cannot build bulkheads or frame out a bathroom, but I am always trying to find an excuse to use wallpaper, I chose to confront that movie that scared me to death as a child (my friend’s parents had all kinds of cable): I redid Scary Closet #2. For Scary Closet #1, read / scroll halfway down this post.

Let’s look at the before:

Nasty linoleum, nasty walls, nasty shelves, nasty stairs, nasty stain from 1985.

Here we are at the top, looking down from the (newly labeled) library.

Here’s a wide shot of the “library” – a.k.a. old door OR.

I began by tearing up the linoleum strips which were just hanging around, not glued or nailed or even stuck due to the passage of time. I pulled out that shelf thing, which had been poorly nailed into the wall. And then began the real work. Fixing the walls. It took buckets (okay, a tub and a half) of patching stuff (technical term) slathered over major gaps, holes, and cracks to smooth out the disgusting, lumpy walls. Sanding, smoothing, more patch stuff, more sanding, vacuuming (still can’t spell it right and that’s all I used to blog about in the early days) and finally, priming the shit out of the stairwell. If you’re looking for a new way to get high, try painting a stairwell with stain-blocking primer. Like, three coats of it because the weird yellow stains just seep on through. Also, there were like, 16 foot ceilings over the stairs, so, that was not fun but a good arm workout.

Some progress.

For the stairs, which had a few vomit-colored stairs among the rough, once-stained set, I opted to just go glossy white. *This shit will look so good on Pinterest* I thought, as I inhaled another deep breath of chemicals.

Do you know how hard it is to photograph a fucking stairwell like this? (Especially with the laziness that kept me from busting out the Nikon.) Almost harder than actually redoing it, which is why these photos are pretty awful. Sorry. But you should see these pretty white stairs in person. Three coats of primer and two coats of high gloss paint and only a few stains show through now (see above photo – second to top stair, right side, brown spot).

From the start, I have wanted to use wallpaper on something – namely, a wall. But also from the start (literally, like the second day of owning this house) I have detested the idea of wallpaper because I had to remove two bedrooms, a bathroom, a dining room, and a living room’s worth of wallpaper.

 I’ve aged like, 10 years in the two we’ve had this house. Ugh. 

Anyhow. So I went to Target because I had seen some stick-on, removable, overpriced “wallpaper” rolls in pretty colors and I was sold. I made Lou take a break and help me measure and hang each section. Could I have left the wall white? Totally. Does it look like a glam little closet and staircase now? I think so.

Three brass hooks are on a board that I didn’t feel like removing, as it’s probably the linchpin holding up the entire wall. There were literally 100 of these hooks throughout the house when we bought it. We unscrewed them all and put them in a bucket in the basement, because we knew someday there’d be a Scary Closet they could go back into. The gold cord also (unintentionally)matches the gold in the wallpaper and the hooks. #pinterestthisshit

I finished up the closet with some not-at-all fancy but totally in budget carpet tiles which I measured and cut one by one (quite proud of my precision – I mean, in Lynn terms, not like, Lou precision – as that’s normally not my strength). Oh, and there’s a 1/4″ plywood board under them that’s on top of the original sub floor. The overall temp of the closet has risen about 20 degrees now.

We’re standing under the main stairs from the second floor to the third, in case you’re wondering why the sloped ceiling.

And for old time’s sake, here’s the “library” that used to be a kitchen, complete with cast iron sink, Sears cabinets, and a 1950s stove.

Oh wait! One more thing. Not only does this stairwell go from the second floor to the third (and back down!), on the second floor landing of it, there’s a door that opens to the backyard.

Top right: Door to nowhere. 

I didn’t photo it from the inside because right now there’s just insulation stapled to it as it’s like a cardboard door and there are major gaps, hence the arctic blast that hits me while I’m sleeping. Outside the door there was once a staircase down to the yard, but like all things Deep Eaves, it was built with random wood and nails and other scraps you’d find around the home so we tore it down and are waiting to win the lottery for spring to rebuild.

Hold on, before I talk about productivity…

Can we just talk about the greatness of the site Fuck Your Noguchi Coffee Table?

It’s been around for years now, but so has that feeling of jealousy-meets disbelief-plus a touch of disgust-and a dash of impressed.

It exists so that when you’re searching the interwebs for things like hallway sconces and you come across one you like and you dare look at the price and you’re like LOL JK LEMME TAB OVER TO THAT IKEA PAGE, it can console you. Well, sort of.

Oh, did you think last week’s tacky post about how much the house is costing was a one-time rant? Heh.

This is a hole in the world’s ugliest wall. It will not be filled with a $400 sconce.

When I first sat down tonight, it was to write about how I finished a project this weekend. But then, of course, there was the need to procrastinate. So, I’m going to go backwards to the FYNCT site, have a look around, then back another step to the ‘spensive lamp shop, where I will realize I cannot / do not want to buy anything, and then, reluctantly, I will write about “my project.”  My tiny, feeble attempt to have a space that looks like like it’s part of this framed chalkboard ambivalence, antlers, globe, tiny flag garland, and light fixture covered in pages from a book room.

P.S. Don’t worry, I’m not in a totally bad state. In fact, I’m quite excited about where all the progress is leading.

I apologize in advance for this post

Lookout, honesty post! Starting the new year off with a bang. Actually, I’m just here to complain about how much this darn house costs. So honesty, and tackiness!

Now that the giving season – a time when we all reflect on how much we have and how thankful we should be, has passed, I can feel okay when I say, in the most pathetic voice ever, “I am really tired of spending so much on this house.” Okay, and sometimes at The Haven (BUT THAT BURGER). You have to eat in order to run the stairs from the basement to the third floor and back down carrying boards and gallons of paint (or just walk the dog), right?

I know we voluntarily got into this project and I know the house has increased in value and we now own stuff like a really sweet saw/vacuum combo unit…

I told you this was going to be tacky.*

BUT. Let’s talk about the latest gift we gave our house. Actually, it was really a gift the house slash oil company gave us. Christmas morning, when we were in California (a long way from Boston), we got a text from the tenants saying they had no hot water. NO HOT WATER. MERRY CHRISTMAS, WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU, HOME IMPROVEMENT GODS?

I could only imagine how much the holiday–spiked price would be for the oil company to even answer the phone, let alone go to our basement. It turned out to be a clogged chimney, which only cost <way too much> considering one guy spent a little time taking out a few bricks that had fallen from the top of the chimney and replacing parts without asking us, which did not have to be replaced right then. But that’s neither here nor there, just oil company business as usual. At least it wasn’t a whole new boiler system. That will probably happen on my birthday.

The next post will be something about how productive we’ve been. And trust me, we have really been productive! Here’s a sneak peek:

*also on the credit card are monthly contributions to some non-profits so, you know, not a total asshole.

730 days and counting

Happy two-year anniversary, you giant, paycheck-stealing, pretty, endless, battleship of a house, you.

As Hurricane Sandy was hitting NY and rain and wind were threatening to close the attorney’s office and registrar where our signing would be recorded that day, we were doing our walk through. Lou was already fixing things and we didn’t even own you yet.

We’ve since replaced the gutters. Who knew gutters cost so much? 

You’ve brought us so much joy, Deep Eaves.

You make our boring weekends sound fun (we built a fence!). You make our lame Friday nights acceptable (can’t go out, need to save for that new toilet!). You give others a way to fill awkward silences: “So, how’s the house?!” is asked with feigned interested. I appreciate it. I mean, it’s not like we can whip out photos of the kids.

After our first winter spent washing both the dishes and our faces in the same ancient sink in a decrepit, unheated bathroom (if you can call it that), you have surely strengthened our immune systems and fortified the bacteria in our digestive tracks to resist almost anything.

Are you grossed out yet? I am.

Well, except for that one 24-hour episode. But I still blame the crockpot.

We spent the morning of the Marathon Bomber chase in the backyard with my parents, despite orders to stay indoors, arranging bushes while helicopters buzzed overhead.

All but two of those bushes died. Figures.

We have planted two rounds of grass seed in the backyard, fingers crossed this last round will survive the coming winter. The first round didn’t survive the painters and fence project.

We found that $200 your previous people shoved in the cracks of the basement walls. Thanks for keeping it dry so we could promptly spend it on wine and cheese and a football game.

Speaking of the basement, our most valuable possessions in the entire 3,747 square feet of you are the Very Nice Tools in the basement. Not joking.

Jesus came with you and watched over us until we started up airbnb a couple months ago, at which point he now simply watches the ceiling in the laundry room from the top of the cabinet. Because a creepy Jesus bust does not a positive review make.

We (the royal we) have painted every room in this house, including closets, minus the interior stairwell to the basement, which i think about painting every time I’m in it, but have to remind myself NONONONO! NO MORE PAINTING.

Two years has brought all new plumbing. New electrical in many of the rooms (running wire was probably my least favorite, most hated project). Two new kitchens. Two new baths with a third on the way (with subway tile!). New paint on the exterior of the house. Credit cards. Loans. No signs of ghosts. Or the million dollars I was hoping was buried deep in the walls. Living in the best part of Boston, one of the few parts I will sincerely miss when we move away (someday). Paint on a majority of the clothes I own. Shoes that should have been replaced a long time ago. And Lou and I are still together!

Someone learned to use a snow shovel.

This post marks the 50th blog entry. Pitiful for two years, but it sounds great when you consider that Lou is still trying to find the perfect pen with which to write a rough draft first post. Wait, I take that back. He’s busy drawing up countless plans for the next projects, the ones I’ll be posting about here. Because that’s how it works.

A few things

Let’s talk about a few things going on here lately.

These donuts.

They’re baked. I had to buy a donut pan, which means I had to go to bed, bath & beyond. I even bought the $4 coconut-flavored water almond milk for them. Which means they’re vegan (coconut oil instead of butter because we had it on hand and LOU bought it, not me, just sayin’…). But don’t worry, they’re FULL of sugar of the brown and powdered varieties and regular flour.

And they’re good. Fairly easy to make. Really easy to eat. A little like cupcakes, not so much donuts but hey, I like cupcakes too. Get the recipe here (note I did not put coconut on them because someone doesn’t like it, and no the almond milk doesn’t add coconut flavor, especially with the extra nutmeg I put in).

The doors on the third floor.

There are a shit ton of doors in this house. And that is not an exaggeration. And none of the doors on the third floor could close because settling. And bad hinges. And old house.

I made Lou take off the bad doors, saw them down, put them back on the hinges, take them off a week later, drag them down to the backyard where I painted them, and drag them back up and put them back on the hinges a second time.

But guess what, all the doors are painted and open and close now and it is grand. And Lou has guns of steel! Thanks Lou.

The bulkheads where the basement meets the backyard.

Lou tore the old bulkheads off months ago. The stairwell holes have been covered with tarps and so far, no water has gotten in (yet…knock on wood). The past two weekends have been about building the bulkheads back up, starting with mixing, shoveling and forming cement for their base.

It is not a glamorous job or a glamorous house update but someone, namely Lou, has to do it. Because the mason wouldn’t help and we refuse to pay anyone and like they could do as good a job as Lou anyhow:

I mean look at this concrete work. Top notch.*

*I learned tonight that the second cement pour of the first bulkhead entry is, and I quote, “Not so good.” It was said that I should have been there for so it wouldn’t look like crap. I’ll take a compliment when I hear one. I am really good at adding water and tamping that shit down. But I’m just happy this ugly bulkhead is still usable. You can’t undo concrete.

The prettiest battleship

Months ago, I mentioned we were looking at some cheery colors to paint the house. Well, after putting several rounds of paint samples on the house and waiting on the painter, the weather, and the painter some more, the house is finally painted. It took tons of work, scraping and washing and scraping again, repairing boards and filling cracks, but it needed it, and the painters did a really nice job. And really, I’m just happy someone else had to paint it, as I paint everything else on this property.

Our neighborhood is full of colorfully-painted houses – there’s obviously no historical society around these parts to make sure everything is some colonial beige or plantation taupe. And while it seemed a little risky to paint this giant house a super-dark color, it was what Lou and I both envisioned for most of the time. Every time we tried a lighter shade of grey (and let’s be honest, grey was the only color we tried, minus one navy shade which still had grey undertones) we just wanted to go a little darker.

We ended up with Sherwin Williams Urbane Bronze as the body color, which is also what’s in our bedroom…I guess we like it. It’s a dark grey with brownish-bronze undertones, and it looks good in both shadows and sunlight. The trim (porch railings, under the eaves, and beads at the top of the house) is a dark graphite color and the columns, the beams under the eaves, and the horizontal boards that go around the top of the house are white. And the red-orange door – Benjamin Moore’s Vermillion – adds a bold, fresh pop of color.

As we were deciding on what trim to paint what color, it eventually became too confusing to really envision fully – at least for me. And so I handed it over to Lou, who seemed to envision exactly how the house should look. Well, almost handed all of it over. If Lou had his way, he would have painted every inch of the house Urbane Bronze, making it one giant, monotone battleship. So we compromised. We painted the ugly metal window trim the body color to make it recede (Lou’s victory) and the columns and a few other details white (my victory). The windows themselves are still white and create some lightness, and the dark railings balance it all out.

And while the painter’s initial comment when he saw the dark grey we chose was – in an Irish accent – “Oh, it’s go-ing to bay a gi-unt battleship!” he ended up really liking it. Or maybe that was just the final check we handed him talking.

Anyhow, I think it’s the prettiest of battleships.