Rude Mechanicals Press Blog

I took down one small cabinet (one that ought presumably to be over a refrigerator, but wasn’t) to see to what level of plasterwork hell I was letting myself in for once all the old cabinets were out. Eh – not too heinous – yet (though those are some lovely bits of hardboard sticking to the wall).

But first things first – the floor. I need to find out if the wood that’s below the tile (and probably a layer of hardboard, two layers of lino and goodness knows what else) is salvageable (it was in the living room, dining room and hall – but that’s no guarantee of success here). If I have to install new flooring, that will affect the rest of my (miniscule) budget).

With a cold chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other on Friday morning, I was literally seconds away from breaking out the first tile when my phone chimed with a text. It was my realtor; “Could a couple who’d seen the house in the fall come see it again on Sunday?”

I came to a screeching stop on the tile work, then had to scurry to patch and paint the plaster (and the exposed “wood” on the cabinet against which the removed one had hung). Oh – and there was a massive pile of towels, bath mats and sheets to wash because I’ve just said goodbye to the  house guests I’d had for almost a week.

So of course, my dryer belt snapped. The new one I had to order will arrive in 5-10 business days. (Thank goodness for kind neighbors and the use of their fancy new dryer.)

So on one hand, the timing was good, by seconds – the tile is all still in place. I wouldn’t have been able to mitigate the ugly had that text come minutes later.

On the other hand, the timing bites – I’m off work until the first Monday in January, and had planned to use that time to pull all the hanging cabinets and demo the floor down to the original wood.

So unless today’s viewers make an extremely quick decision, I find myself with a few days free. If only I could remember where I stashed my dissertation research…and if only I could recall a damn thing about it. I think it has something to do with Shakespeare?

I finally have what I think is the final kitchen layout. (And I’m now a lot faster at SketchUp.) Note that the top run of cabinets and library ladder rail won’t happen, unless I decide in the spring to not sell the house…or no one wants to buy it. (While I don’t want to overbuild for someone else, I’m perfectly willing to do so for myself.)

A careful look at the underside of the floor* has convinced me that I can take up the tile (and probably two layers of lino under it), then sand and refinish the wood. All of the plywood patches appear to be located where cabinets will cover them, and if not, I can tooth in a few boards as needed.

I desperately want to start taking up the tile but I have guests today through Christmas; I suppose we’ll need the kitchen. I’ll have the cat’s paw and cold chisel in hand on the 26th, and will take the tile and whatever is under it back to the cabinet edges (then remove the rest of it once I pull the old base cabinets).

As for as the cabinets, I plan to use 3/4″ AC birch ply, finished side toward the interior. The outside surfaces will be painted white. (Yes, this blog may soon actually include some woodworking!)  I’ll be working in stages; the sink-base cabinet and corner cabinet for a lazy susan will come first, then the measurements for the remaining base cabinets will be pulled from those (I don’t trust myself to get everything dead right off my drawings).

Then, I’ll tear out the current MDF crap, sand and finish the floor, then scribe the base to it (I know it won’t be level; nothing in this house is). My hope is that I can get that base done and get the carcases and countertop in place quickly so I’m not without a functional kitchen for more than 8-10 days (some of which are, unavoidably, for the floor finish to cure).

Then, it’s on to the upper cabinets; my dishes and food will just stay in the dining room until they’re done.

And for Christmas, I’m hoping for an IKEA gift card. That’s where I’m getting the sink.

*Yes, I know that’s technically a sub floor if I can see it from underneath, but that’s what I’ve done in the living room and dining room, and it works just fine.

When paths collide.

I’ve lived in my house for more than a decade and there are plenty of quirky things about it that I simply choose to ignore — but it wasn’t until I was having to keep the house clean, neat and inviting to potential buyers that I realized one major traffic flow annoyance (and I’m surprised not one of the 30 people/couples that viewed the house mentioned it).

I never noticed the problem, because I rarely use the guest room (the door on the right). It stays closed (to keep the cats from puking on the new carpet therein…so they puke on the new carpet in my bedroom instead).

But I was going in and out of the guest room a lot over the last five months to plump the pillows and what have you, and I kept running into the bathroom door.

So of course, now that the house is off the market and no one will notice or care, I decided to rehang it on the inside of the jamb so that it opens in.

That required cutting new hinge gains in the jamb…and filling and fixing the hinge gains on the door (I’m pretty sure whomever “cut” those used a butter knife to hack them out.)

While I had it down, I decided to tighten and peg the mortise-and-tenon joints (like my waistline over the last three days, they were spreading), then apply a fresh coat of paint to both sides. (Then hang out and watch the paint dry so I didn’t have to clean up white paw prints.)

The door is 32″x 82″ x 1-1/4″ of solid wood, and is both unwieldy and heavy. Getting it properly positioned by myself to mark the new hinge locations was a chore – made easier by use of a large handscrew clamped at the bottom of the knob edge (in effect, it created a foot) and the deployment of copious shims. Also, I can only assume the cursing helped.

Once I had it rehung and swinging properly, I marked the amount to take off the knob edge – because naturally, the interior opening is slightly more narrow (and out of square in a different direction) than is the exterior opening. I marked the waste directly onto the door off the jamb; turns out, it was 3/8″ from the bottom tapering to 1/8″ at the top.

So, after removing the knobs, plates and mortise lock, I placed the door back across my sawbenches then used a track saw to quickly and accurately trim the waste.

With the lock out of its mortise, I took it apart, reversed the catch direction, then gave everything a good oiling and – with some judicious filing on the arrow-shaped thingamabob – it finally turns equally well in both directions. A Thanksgiving miracle, I tell you. (I know almost nothing about locks or metal…I got lucky.)

Then, of course, I had to cut a new mortise to recess the plate, and deepen the lock mortise a wee bit. Sure wish I’d not left my router plane at work – that would have turned a 15-minute job into a 5-minute lark. (Would have made the hinge mortises a lot quicker, too.)

There. I fixed it.

Now given my headline, you may be wondering about the lessons I learned:

1) Locks are cool and not as confusing as I thought

2) Two full sets of tools (one for home, one for the office) would make my life easier

But here’s the most important lesson:

3) If I don’t require advice on how to go about something, don’t post about it on Facebook until after the job is complete. (Same goes for mentioning projects to my mother.)

The calm before the not calm.

About two decades ago, my friends and I were neck deep studying for comp exams for our master’s degrees. Plus we had to teach on the day before Thanksgiving (though few students bothered to show up), and those who had family out of town just couldn’t spare the time to travel. We were stuck in town over the holiday.

So I decided to cook Thanksgiving dinner and invite folks over to my one-bedroom apartment that had a 24″ two-burner stove, about 3′ of counter space, a tiny refrigerator and a kitchen table large enough to comfortably hold three people. I can’t swear to it, but I think there were six people crowded in.

That was the year I discovered – while carving the bird – that inside was packed a paper packet of gizzards and the neck. Ah well – the turkey still tasted good, or at least didn’t make anyone sick.

I started doing a big dinner here 11 years ago – and always at 6 p.m. or later, so that those who had family in town could eat two turkey dinners, with time for a nap in between (and so I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to preheat the oven).

Trifle, potatoes and turkey…and out of room.

At first, it was just a few friends. Then, it was a few friends and their insignificant others (some of whom became significant others). Now it’s my friends and their families.

I’ve had as many as 18 people crowded around the big table and an auxiliary kids’ table in the front hall. That’s a lot of fun. It’s also a lot of dishes. This year, only six people are expected for dinner (though I’m still cooking for 20 – sometimes people just show up). I expect others will come by later for drinks (you’re invited).

In case you do show up, note the one and only Thanksgiving rule:  THERE WILL BE NO SQUABBLING.

To those who couldn’t make it this year, we’ll miss you. (Don’t worry – I’ll eat your portion of trifle.)

That’s what I’ll be doing in about 9 hours.

See that towel? I’ve thrown it in.

I’m taking my house off the market, which means that soon, you’ll have the dubious pleasure of reading about my attempts to spruce up the kitchen, and perhaps offering advice on just how I should go about that. (Please don’t be offended if/when I ignore it.)

First up, design and build a snazzy, narrow island to replace the antique shabby chic farmhouse table that I’m told doesn’t “speak” to today’s young homebuyer.

Then, I have to decide how far to take the rest of it. New countertops are a sure thing. Whether they will go atop the existing cabinets is yet to be determined. And whether or not the possible new cabinets would then go atop the existing floor? Also tbd.

So I have a lot of work ahead of me this winter. Or maybe just a little. Either way, I am less than pleased. I was hoping to by now be living in squalor in a new old place that I’d be fixing up for myself – not trying to guess what I can do to make my house attractive to 20-somethings who want everything for little money. And GET OFF MY LAWN (which, by the by, I’ve been told is far too small).

I’ll put the house back on the market in April. And therein lies my kitchen conundrum. I don’t want to spend a lot of time and money just to hear, “great house; fabulous kitchen; needs a driveway.” But if it doesn’t sell, I don’t want to be stuck living with a kitchen I don’t like.

Also, I decided to stop trying to recapture the colors of my youth. I’m now on track for an Emmylou Harris look, though with a long way to go. I won’t post a picture until after I recognize myself in the mirror.

Yup – turning into a cranky old woman inside and out.

At first, he was perfect – polite, wholly attentive to my needs, always on time, clean and neat, and always asking if there was anything he could do to help me.

We spent at least a few days together every week at the start of the relationship, and on the rare occasions  he had to cancel, he gave me plenty of notice – then quickly made it up to me.

After a month, the calls were few and farther between. I’d leave a message; he’d call back a few days later and say, “Sorry; I’ve been busy. But I’ll be over soon.” Soon became a week. Then two. Then never. It’s enough to drive a woman to drink.

So I stopped calling. Forget him.

Two months ago, though, I caved. He answered, “Sure. I’ll be over tomorrow.”

He didn’t show. He didn’t call.

Yesterday, he left me two messages. I refuse to return them. A woman has to have some pride, after all.

So I’m on the prowl (again).

I suppose for now I’ll have to attend to my own tuck pointing. But if any Cincinnati folks know a good handyman or woman (excellent plaster skills desired), do let me know.

The best thing about winter for JJ is the down comforter on my bed. The worst thing is that I keep the house cold enough to hang meat.

In one last-ditch effort to sell my house before winter is entrenched, I’ve lowered the price by a couple thou.

I swore I wouldn’t go lower in price than I had it at last week…but I fell in love…again (yeah, I’m fickle) and need cash. Quick.

This time, the house after which I’m lusting (located just a few blocks from my current home) has a solid foundation – but it needs some work on the slate roof and requires all-new electric (it’s knob-and-tube, and the panel is smaller than a very small bread box).

Then there’s the lovely mismatched wallpaper that’s not limited to the walls – there are several layers on most of the ceilings, too – plus the rugs that smell as if they’ve spent 40 years in a nursing home that’s in serious violation of health codes. At least I hope that’s only in the rugs…

But the potential is enormous!

(The above explains why I’m still single; not only am I fickle, everything and everyone in which I’ve ever been interested requires massive renovation.)

All better now.

So I have my dining room back in order, the bathroom wall is fixed and I’m ready for showings (just give me some notice so I can turn up the heat).

And if I get no offers by Thanksgiving, I’ll take it off the market and spruce up the kitchen over the winter, then relist in the spring at a slightly higher price.

But by that time, no doubt my new love will be taken. Story of my life.

p.s. If you know anyone who might be interested, please send them this link: http://bit.ly/1dOj8ty

Last weekend at the Woodworking in America conference, I realized that quite a lot of people have been following this blog…because they all asked what was going on with the house. So first, many thanks for reading. And second, a whole lotta nothing. (And third, sorry to be remiss in updating.)

So the picture above? That’s my dining room in its current disarrayed state. I had house guests for the conference, so I hung curtains in the dining room doorways and there was an air mattress on the floor. (Ditto in my second floor study/shop). Plus the actual guest room was in use on the second floor, and my intern is still occupying floor three and the bath up there (tub only – and intern only, per our agreement).

I have one shower. (It seems an important enough point for its own paragraph.)

With winter upon us, an uptick in non-violent crime in my neighborhood possibly depressing interest (lots of burglaries lately – though none here, knock on the plenty of wood I have sitting about) and no evident attraction to my house lately, I’m thinking of taking it off the market and deferring my plan for a “proper shop” (the foundation of any new house, natch) until spring.

In the meantime, I could rent some space nearby for a shop – but that seems silly when I have the PWM shop 12 miles up the road and I’m fairly certain Christopher Schwarz would let me use his shop if need be (it’s 6 miles down the same road).

So maybe, just maybe, I should revert to what was my Original Plan: turn the 17′ x 12′ dining room into a shop. I’d have to put up doors, but that’s not a big deal. What would be a big deal is having to get rid of some furniture that I quite like (though the tabletop could stay – it would fit nicely atop my bench in a pinch).

If I did that, I could address some of the “problems” that seem to be keeping my house from selling – a new kitchen (really, a refreshed kitchen – I haven’t the time, energy or cash flow to rip everything out down to the plaster…but I’m not gonna lie: even I hate the countertops). Oh – and a second shower (though I hate plumbing work). That would involve redoing the third floor, however, which means HVAC in addition to plumbing. And drywall (I also hate drywall work).

Then, if I want, I could try again in the spring to sell it (but no doubt the house I desperately – and some have said foolishly – want will by then be long gone). But if I do all or even half of the above, well, I might not want to move after all.

But I really like having a proper dining room (though it gets used properly but twice a year). I’d be sad to give it over to a workbench – and it would make the first floor … weird.

The outside box is the whole of my property…note that the shop (which would be built as a “sunroom” for code reasons) is larger than the kitchen…natch.

I’ve also considered adding on off the back of the house a shop and a room (or rooms) above. I’ve even drawn out a sorta plan (but only for the important part – the shop). But that’s A Sorta Fairytale; I don’t think I can afford to do it (I’m also not sure city code would allow it). But if I could somehow swing it, well, I guess I’d trade my cozy backyard garden for a purpose-built shop and new owner’s suite (including shower). But the goal is to get rid of my existing debt, not take on more. A change of that magnitude would, however, obviate the desire to move.

Then there’s doing nothing at all whilst hoping that the stars align and my house sells after all, while my “dream” house remains available. I suspect that’s the route I’ll take – for the short term, anyway.

My house, as it looked eight years ago. Yawn.

Today, I got the best feedback I’ve had from a showing: “It feels like home.” (And the showee is currently looking for financing – my fingers will remain tightly crossed.)

I’ve been discouraged as of late because house sales, after a summer doldrums, have been hot in my ‘hood for the last few weeks – but almost everything that’s sold in the same general price range as mine (that is, $150-$225k) has been newly redone, with a snazzy new kitchen and flashy new bathrooms.  (And that’s why mine is closer to that $150k threshold.)

I’ve toured every one for which there’s been an open house, and while I certainly concur with their buyers that the places are nice, they’ve all seemed sterile to me. I can’t imagine flipping a house. In the midst of re-doing mine, I’ve lived in it, and made choices that may not appeal to a wide swath of people – but they appeal to me.

Instead of knocking out walls to create an open floor plan (which is still very hot in Northside, it seems), I patched in period mouldings on the original door frames where they were missing or simply wrong. I restored as much of the original heart-pine floor as possible – and yes, there are a few small gaps. That beats Pergo by a mile, as far as I’m concerned. (I’ll concede that I should have put in a heated floor in the bath; I missed a trick on that one.) Not all the walls in my house are neutral (though none are crazy colors…are they?!). And my kitchen fits the style of the house (though I did buy stainless appliances) rather than what a certain Swedish outfit sells. And the slate, buttercup and mossy green outside? Well, strictly speaking, it’s not period-correct…but I was going for a subdued version of a “painted lady” – and those have been around long enough to count as historically valid (that’s my argument and I’m sticking to it).

I vowed as a child that some day I’d live in a brand-new house with excellent heating and cooling, windows that didn’t require one to switch out the storms for screens and vice versa twice a year, an actual furnace rather than a boiler that required daily attention, no period wallpaper and furniture that I was actually allowed to sit on. (We lived in an old brick farmhouse, Magnolia Stock Farm, with a lot of antiques that were for show rather than for use.)

But I guess listening to my mother’s lectures on architectural integrity and antiques stuck with me – at least in part; during my formative years she worked for various preservation leagues in Louisville, and later for the National Trust for Historic Preservation in Washington, D.C.

Now, I turn up my nose somewhat at “contemporary” and “new” (at least as far as houses in my price range go); I like old stuff and houses on which the exterior and interior match in style, and I find storm windows rather charming (easy for me to say – my house came to me with cheap replacement windows already installed, so I replaced them with double-glazed). I do not care for open floor plans (too hard to keep such an open space clean!) and not every bedroom requires an attached bath. But I have no wallpaper in my house, and one can use every piece of furniture I own (except my darn baby bed that I can’t seem to get rid of).

So I’m glad at least one person seems to agree with me – I’m hopeful she’ll find the means to make what “feels like home” indeed be so.

Then I can buy the Arts & Crafts house I want…complete with the original storm windows.

I live in the city, and have become inured to the nightly sirens, train whistles and cars driving by at all hours. (Now if only I could get used to the neighbor’s Hammond organ at odd hours – though that’s been less of a problem of late – and the occasional 3 a.m. fights on the sidewalk).

Last week, however, I had the soothing sounds of cicadas, a fast-moving stream and birdsong filling my ears. Plus eight-nine hours per day of 11 wooden mallets whacking chisels, miter saws clanging into the guides on miter boxes and rubber mallets knocking together and taking apart test-fits on full-sized English tool chests. (Which beats a Hammond organ and fights any day.)

For my summer vacation, I spent a week helping out in Christopher Schwarz’s tool chest class at Roy Underhill’s school (The Woodwright’s School) in Pittsboro, N.C. Both Chris and I stayed with Roy and his wife, Jane, at their lovely mill; Chris was in the guest room in the converted mill, and my quarters were across the lawn in the recently completed guest house (which doubles as Roy’s office).

It’s a restful, bucolic setting, and I’m honored that Jane and Roy invited me to stay there. I ask you – How many other toilets afford a view out the window of a doe and fawn out for a morning stroll? (I, er, couldn’t get to my camera to take that picture….)

We drove the eight hours back to Greater Cincinnati on Saturday (apologies to Chris for my three-hour playlist of singer/songwriter music, to which I loudly sang along), then I had to hurriedly unpack my suitcase (I typically let it sit for a week), do the laundry and vacuum. I had a 10 a.m. showing on Sunday, and after a week of late nights, early mornings and possibly a few too many adult beverages, there was no way I was going to get up early on Sunday to take care of all that.

So I’m back in the city now, and back to being worried about selling my house – and I’m hoping fervently that with summer coming to a close, the young folks who tend to populate my neighborhood will be back in a house-buying mindset.

The house I’ve been hankering for is still available (plus my contingency contract doesn’t expire for another two weeks). But there’s now a niggling thought in the back of mind about how nice it would be to get a new place with a view of a mill stream and waterfall, with deer ambling through the yard – instead of a view of the neighbor’s house mere yards away. For that, however, I’d have to go a bit outside of city (and county) limits – and my idea of a bearable morning commute is no more than 20 minutes.

Perhaps I’ll make myself some nice deer yard art instead. And the Brood X 17-year cicadas are due to emerge in Cincinnati in 2017; I doubt I’ll find them soothing. Bring on the sirens. (Still, I wouldn’t mind another week or three in North Carolina.)

p.s. Apologies for the fuzzy photos…the iPad camera is crap.