Dust Wall

Alright. These pics are from yesterday and might as well be old news in our remodel log by now. But still, the documenting of every uninteresting moment must continue.

Lotus putting up the dust wall.

The guys ripped down the poorly installed crown molding, which had no business in our mid-century modern Florida block home. Once removed, the diarrhea colored paint that the previous owner saturated the walls with was exposed. I guess she was responsible for the crown. Thank goodness we bought this house!

This was yesterday. It was interesting yesterday. Now we are so far beyond yesterday that yesterday looks boring.

Out with the old! The walls in our 1962 house are made of concrete and plaster.

It’s true. Tearing out and starting from scratch is pretty much the least green thing you can do to your house. We have a 20 yard dumpster out back filled to the top with the refuse of one full quarter of our house’s walls. It’s a shame the cabinets could not be salvaged, but if they were salvageable, we really wouldn’t be in this mess right now, would we?

I shouldn’t complain. These cabs lasted 48 years. The doors were laminate veneer pressboard crap, so these new ones, with solid wood boxes and doors, should last at least 60. Me, I hopefully have at least 40 left in me.

This is what Chris was doing digging out under the house for a few days. Making forms? Pumping in concrete? Building pillars? Something like that. All I know is that the weight of the roof depends upon this little hole in our floor.

Obviously, the minutia of my kitchen fascinates me. You mean you didn't find the last pic so interesting that you were just crossing your fingers and bartering promises with God to see another one, from a slightly different angle? Sicko.

We have had a lot of very serious trucks on our very residential street lately. The drivers always call for directions and they are always afraid of our location, as if our house address would take them to a canal in Venice and their serious truck would have to sink or swim to survive. Relax, men. Our street is wide enough to accommodate your masculinity.

That a boy! Most of these trucks are not intended for residential delivery so there is no lift to lower (lift to lower? must check if that is an oxymoron…) the stuff onto the street. When our flooring was delivered, truck guy moved the stuff from his big manly truck to the back of Chris’s much smaller, yet somehow more masculine pick-up. Then Chris drove it up the driveway to unload. To be honest, Chris is such a big guy, he probably could have carried the pallet of wood on his shoulder. Or attached a chain to the pallet with a collar around his neck and just dragged it up to the carport, lumberjack style. Remember those competitions? Anyway, I know he doesn’t like to show off. This guy in the pic just had some aluminum chairs to deliver and was able to just lower the pallet down to the street.

Here is the original red oak. Here is the new red oak. Say hello. Make nice. The new prefinished red oak will go where the asbestos flooring was ripped out (go ahead, breath deeply). Obviously the colors are different, despite their common lineage–the red oak family tree. I hate the spiciness of the stain that tarnishes the floor of our entire house, however, I do hope (hopefully not against hope) that one day we will be able to have them sanded and a water based emulsion finish applied. No stain. Bleah to stains. Out out damn stain. The prefinished flooring has no stain but is polyurethaned, which basically means it is more yellow than I care for but nevertheless, it is a standard finish and I can live with it since floors were not a huge part of our budget. The two floors are similar height and we are going to try our hardest to get away without any transition piece between the old and the new. Although our house was not built in 1834 (we do have that one available for sale if anyone is interested), 48 is still relatively old for a house–especially when you compare it to a newly built house. So a little patchwork look here and there is acceptable. When the old floor is refinished the difference won’t be so drastic. But for the next decade or so, it may just look like stretch marks before dermabrasion around here.

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