My disposition has changed. I'm less patient. I'm tired. I'm sore. My fingers are sore and in some instances, bloody. Instead of springing out of bed eager to get going I wonder if I could sleep for just one more hour and then I'd have the energy of Superman and I could get this whole project done in one or two more days. Sure. Right. Did I mention I have a thyroid issue that is still under trial and error treatment? I feel about as UNsuperman as possible.
This is all Dobby's fault.
It all started one fine September day when I decided the (ugly) blue carpet in our 1950s built home must come up. Dobby is not capable of being potty-trained and has determined to prove this by utilizing my (ugly) blue carpet. It was either Dobby or the carpet - one of them had to go. Since I paid a lot for Dobby and I think he's cute, and I hate my carpet, I opted to keep Dobby and wave goodbye to the carpet. Besides, earlier renovation had proven we have some decent hardwood beneath that ugly carpet.
Whether the following thought processes were a result of bipolar disorder or OCD, I may never know, but I was clearly cloudy-minded when I thought this would be a "little" project. I was so far from rational and clear-minded that I now want to grab Kyle by the lapel and ask him "WHY, KYLE, WHY??? Why did you let me do this to us???" (He would simply remind me of how I get when I'm ...
What happened in my mind went something like this. "Okay, we're pulling out the carpet and scrubbing up the hardwood underneath. But I've been wanting to paint this room. I should probably paint before pulling carpet, otherwise I have to tape and put plastic over the flooring and try not to get paint on the floor (at which I am horrible). It would make far more sense to paint and THEN remove carpet. And since I'm going to paint, now would be the time to pull that awful wallpaper that bubbles and ripples when painted over. It was a fairly easy job in the craft room when I redid that room."
I bought the needed supplies at my local Home Depot and eagerly embarked on the job of scoring, spraying, scraping. And then I scored, sprayed, scraped, scored, sprayed, scrubbed, sponged, scraped and scraped. And I was only down to the third layer of wallpaper. I would soon learn that my old home's walls had FIVE layers, one of which included some odd plaster haphazardly placed. I may or may not have cried out of sheer frustration. When I got to the final layer, of which I last blogged, I had to admit the paper was kinda cute even though at this point I wanted to burn the house down.
Today, about 20 days into this project, I finally got to step 2 - repairing walls with joint compound and putty knives. It was a bit cathartic, slapping wet goop onto the wall and smoothing it out. Except that the perfectionist OCD in me really wanted it perfectly smooth, even though she knew that she would be sanding it down later anyway. Sigh. Much more frustration ensued, but I think I may be close to getting to the painting part.
Which is good, because soon Home Depot will be doing the flooring part. Did I mention that the hardwood floors I just knew would be beneath that ugly carpet didn't extend to the addition that was built at a later point than the original house? All that exists in that area is some sort of sub-flooring I never really want to see again. This project is costing a lot of dough, and I will probably have to substitute teach for the rest of my life to pay for it. If I live that long.
But at least when I get home from work I'll be able to relax in a lovely redone home.
I can't wait to reveal the final look. Who knows when that will be! I will also be blogging a recap of my 30 before 30 list and revealing my 40 before 40 list. If my fingers are still around. Until then, I will be sanding, painting and sneezing. And visiting the allergist.
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