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.

IMG_3344

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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.

original third floor bathroom

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.

 

bathroom_update

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?

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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!

Innocent Door

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.

Enter the Scary Closet

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:

floorboards

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

Top of StairsHere we are at the top, looking down from the (newly labeled) library.

The LibraryHere’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.

Fresh PaintSome 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.

Pretty stairs

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).

Stair-Closet Bisection

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 hate 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

Hanging Light and Hooks

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.

New Carpet Tiles

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.

Formerly the Kitchen

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.

Floating Door

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.

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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 where a light will go

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.

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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:

cutting wallpaper

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

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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.

fixing gutters

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.

dirty third floor sink

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.

backyard with the parents

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.

jesus on the wall

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!

deep eaves in snow

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.

pumpkins on the porch

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A few things

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

These donuts.

donuts cooling frosted 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.

new third floor doors

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:

bulkhead close-up

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.

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