My House and its Magical Powers for Shit

Please note: for the foreseeable future, this blog will feature renovation related content. Knitting just isn't isn't happening in the middle of this mess.

It all began when I couldn't flush the toilet. The tank would take so long to fill, that it was only possible to flush once, maybe twice a day. A temporary and depressing solution, throwing buckets of water down the toilet to force it to flush, was used until I realized that I essentially had an indoor outhouse. One day, I called my good friend Lewis in tears over the state of the bathroom. He agreed to help. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into then, or he might not have volunteered so quickly. What started as a two hour plumbing fix grew in scope to include the entire house.
As most of you already know, my esteemed grandparents died last summer. For the first six months, I felt unmoored. Then, I resolved to get the fuck out of this place. It doesn't make sense to stay anymore, when its biggest attraction was being able to walk to their house. Far, far away it is. And that means selling the house. And unless it was going to be sold as a gut rehab, work would have to be done. There isn't a huge market for houses with a disreputable air.

At the outset of this undertaking, we planned the following improvements:

  • complete remodel of the bathroom
  • new floor in the kitchen
  • laminate flooring throughout
About halfway through, this has telescoped into:
  • moving a wall
  • new cabinets, countertop, and sink in the kitchen
  • paint, paint everywhere
  • more plumbing than can be discussed in mixed company
  • mysterious plans for the laundry room that are currently unknown to me
  • walling over a door
  • replacing all the windows
  • the clerks at Home Depot not only recognizing me, but asking if we liked the movie we'd discussed renting a few days before (Pineapple Express. Awesome.)


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