Rude Mechanicals Press Blog

With no showings since last Friday, I’ve been letting things slide.

Last night, I left the toaster on the counter (along with some crumbs, no doubt), and I allowed my clean dishes to drip dry instead of using a towel then immediately putting them back in the cabinets.

I left yesterday’s clothes on the floor (alongside Tuesday’s), and my nightshirt is atop my unmade bed.

There are dust bunnies on the stairs, scuffs on the kitchen floor and the living room rug is sorely in need of vacuuming, though I can’t imagine why – I just vacuumed on Saturday. (I’d like you to meet, from left to right above, J.J., Viola and Possum.)

I left my damp towel on the hook behind the bathroom door this morning, did not wipe down the shower and there are two pair of shoes in the middle of the walk-in closet floor (I had a little trouble deciding on footwear today).

On the front porch are three yard-waste bags from Sunday’s marathon weeding session (five hours, which included trimming back trees and shrubbery, and approximately 1,000 mosquito bites). And it’s a good thing I managed to get off my butt and clean up the garden last weekend, because I just got a notice for a house showing at 4:30 p.m. I can get the house stuff done in just a couple hours, but the garden would be beyond me on short notice.

One (less-than-relaxing-or-fun) half-day of vacation, coming right up.

I’m sorely tempted to install new kitchen countertops from – gasp – Ikea, because I know it would instantly update the look of the kitchen…but the real reason is because I find it frustrating to not be working on something. I am not good at just sitting around. But I have a showing on Saturday and an open house on Sunday – and I’m well aware that while I estimate new countertops would take me three or so hours, it would in reality take at least twice as long, plus lead to a snowball effect of tangential fixes.

So I was delighted when my neighbor, who’s in the midst of rehabbing/flipping a house down the street, called for some woodworking advice. How serendipitous – a project, but one I needn’t worry much about! He needs to drill flat-bottomed holes on a 40° angle in a curved bottom rail and rounded bannister to accept 3/4″ spindles.

I showed up all smiles with my brace and a 3/4″ bit, and he said (I’m paraphrasing here) “Dear God what is that thing?!”

I explained that it would be quick and easy – that the long lead screw would allow him to line up the bit perfectly with his marked center locations, and that just a few turns would do it for each hole. I also brought along a block of wood cut at 40° for him to use as a guide, and offered to demonstrate the ease and finesse with which he’d quickly finish his project.

He wasn’t having it.

He has a benchtop drill press with a tilting table, but clamping  those rounded pieces on an angled surface and having to unclamp and re-secure the workpiece for every hole? Well, I couldn’t convince him that a brace and bit would be faster. So I reached in my pocket and handed him the 3/4″ Forstner bit I’d stashed as a backup.

I almost offered to do it for him, but decided instead to go home and read “All’s Well That Ends Well.” I should be writing rather than worrying about countertops and my neighbor’s spindles.

(But I know I’m right about the brace and bit.)

I was looking through some old issues (but not that old…) of PWM today and came across this column.

I’ll just say that I’m glad it didn’t last long.

As if the answers to woodworking questions are different for wom….Nope. Not gonna do it.

I don’t believe that burying a statue of St. Joseph in the yard will help sell the house …but I may order this anyway, because the wee trestle workbench and plane are so darn cute. And it would look great alongside my Roy Underhill bobblehead.

The one kitchen thing that’s been a lasting source of mild annoyance to me is the skirting board material. Instead of wood, the skirt boards are the rubber kind that’s commonly found in industrial kitchens. I assume the person who put them in did so because they’re flexible and thus easy to wrap around corners, and they’re no doubt quick to install.

Plus, there’s one gently curved wall at the back outside corner of the kitchen, and fitting wooden skirting boards there would be more difficult than simply pressing the rubber into place.

But that’s what kerf cuts are for.

So I’m thinking about making an inexpensive upgrade by replacing the rubber skirting boards with 3/4″- or perhaps 1/2″-thick painted poplar. All I’d have to do is measure, cut the parts to fit and kerf the back of the piece for the curve (then fill the cuts on top where they’d show). I can’t imagine it would take me more than a couple hours’ work (though Murphy’s law dictates, of course, that it will take at least twice as long as I anticipate).

Because the door and window casings in the kitchen aren’t profiled, I don’t even have to worry about an edge treatment; square would match the rest of the trim (though I would no succumb to the compulsion to add a toe kick to match the trim in the rest of the house…and because I can never seem to take the easiest path).

But I can’t decide, should I do this, if black or the white of the cabinets is the best color choice. White would perhaps made the room look a bit larger* and form a continuous visual line with the door casings and cabinets – plus it would match the baseboards in the rest of the house, and look fresh and clean…but without vigilant attention it might not stay that way for long. Black would match the appliances and grout, and help to “ground” the base cabinets – but wouldn’t look as crisp against the yellow walls and white door casings.

What do you think: Is it worth the trouble? And if so, would you choose black or white?

* That may be a fashion-based assumption; white skirts make things look larger – which is why I don’t wear them.

Cherry tree in spring.

It is rather disquieting to be reading and realize you’re being watched.

Over the course of a couple hours yesterday, at least five cars did a slow crawl past the front windows then hung out at the stop sign for several minutes; I could see the occupants scrutinizing the house.

Here’s hoping they liked what they saw and will soon make a showing appointment (unless, of course, they were simply casing the joint).

The back wall of my second-floor bath, mid tear-out (featuring a curious framing approach for the old medicine cabinet…).

Having to keep the bathroom pristine and looking as if it’s never been used (in preparation for last-second showings) makes it challenging to keep oneself in the same state. I’m living as if I’m a dirty hippie (albeit one who eschews patchouli).

It’s not that different from when I was rehabbing said bathroom. I ripped out everything down to the studs and slowly….very slowly…framed it back in, hung drywall and WonderBoard, had the shower installed, etc. I think it took me about five months from start to finish, and I was without a shower in the house for the duration. I alternated between taking baths on the third floor and running across the street to the shower of my friends Alli and David (thanks again guys!).

Now, I’ve one of our company’s interns living on my third floor for the summer, so I’d feel bad about using what is ostensibly “her” bath. And I don’t want to abuse the generosity of my friends and neighbors (and it’s kinda weird to shower across the street from one’s own home).

Instead, I just stink, and am cultivating a nice head full of dreadlocks.

OK – not really…much; I’m just going through a lot of glass cleaner and towels.

But patchouli may soon become a viable solution….

There’s no reason I have to live in an Arts & Crafts house to start making Arts & Crafts furniture. It just seems as if I should…because right now I typically build Shaker pieces. I do, in fact, live pretty much like a Shaker (with the notable exception of a marked lack of dancing).

OK – so a wee case of the jitters yesterday. I’m over it. I know – with all the work I’ve done and had done – that my house is appropriately priced for the market.

For whatever reason, though, let’s say I don’t get an offer that I’m willing to accept. That’s OK – it simply means I’ll have to do my next house project here instead of in a new (old) place. It is, however, a big one: the kitchen.

I’ve done some work on the kitchen as you see it in the picture above. When I bought this place, those cabinets were painted a nasty brown color…or perhaps that was just the dirt. Or a combination of both. Plus, they featured spectacularly ugly (and spectacularly grimy) hinges and pulls. The walls were dishwater beige (as was almost every wall in the house, as well as the fireplace), and there was a large hole in the plaster ceiling.

I sanded the cabinets, drawers and doors and painted them white (obviously), and bought and installed new brushed nickel hardware. (I recall being shocked by how expensive stock hinges and pulls were; this is before I started woodworking and developed a yearning for hand-forged hardware. Stock hardware now seems perfectly reasonable.) And, I painted the walls orange. About two weeks later, I painted them yellow. And I fixed and painted the ceiling.

It looks good and works well. I like the contrast of the bright walls and crisp cabinets, and I pretty much have the “triangle” I always hear about on kitchen makeover shows. But it seems to me there’s some underutilized space –  if one’s budget stretches to custom-made cabinetry that takes advantage of 10′ ceilings (and an accompanying library ladder to reach it).

Well, my budget (really, my common sense) doesn’t stretch far enough to have someone build a bespoke kitchen in this neighborhood. But my skills do, so if that someone is me, it becomes (slightly) more viable – but only if I’m willing to live with a kitchen in disarray for a long time (and disarray is a somewhat common state for my house, so…). Here are my plans of what I (might) build if I stay here (you can click on them to make them larger, if you like).

The cabinets would be paint-grade plywood with hardwood face frames and drawer and door fronts. The floor would (probably) be reclaimed pine to match the first floor in the living room and dining room. The countertops would be oiled soapstone, and I’d have an apron-front sink (which I’ve not drawn in here). I’d keep the same appliances; no need for extravagance.

And conveniently, if I do end up executing this plan, the shop will be right next door in the room formerly known as the dining room.

During a showing at my house on Sunday, I checked out the competition* at an open house. That was a disheartening decision.

The day after my house went on the market, another Victorian a few blocks south was listed for $6,000 more than mine. In many ways, I like my home more. The competition has what I think are asbestos shingles from the 1940s or ’50s (I can’t be sure – but they look a lot like the shingles on my grandparents’ house); mine is brick. And, I think my exterior paint job and curb appeal is much better.

But walk inside, and the competition without question wins the aesthetic first-impression race. There’s a larger entrance hall that runs the length of the house (and back stairs; I love back stairs), a lovely and spacious dining room that opens to the kitchen hall and living room, and a much larger kitchen than mine, with new cabinets and countertops – and more of both. While I’d not have selected those cabinets or countertops (and I prefer my tile floor over the vinyl installed there), there’s no arguing that kitchen is more aesthetically appealing – and the larger space helps to reinforce that.

Go upstairs, and my house is nicer (or maybe not…it’s so hard to tell, but I like my second and third floor better). But the competition has four full bathrooms; never mind that two of them need redoing – there’s four of them. As a single woman without kids, I don’t need four full baths, so to me, that reads as “work.” But I can certainly understand the appeal.

My yard has a nice garden with a bluestone patio (those stones are really heavy, BTW); the competition has a grass-filled backyard with little visual interest or variety. But there’s a driveway.

I also have an almost brand-new electric panel with plenty of room for expansion, newly lined box gutters, newer windows with a high R-value, a new high-efficiency furnace…all things that cost a lot and are necessary. But none of that appeals to the emotions. And I know from looking myself that emotion easily trumps reason. Reason may rear its boring head after the initial impression, but it’s the emotional reaction that counts up front.

So now I’m wondering…do I drop my price after having been on the market only a week, or do I tough it out – and for how long? And if I do drop it, how much is enough to make mine more enticing, given the competition? (There is, of course, a threshold at which my desire to move becomes financially unviable.)

I’m worried…because I love the house on which my contingency offer was accepted. I walked into it and immediately knew, “This is the one.” Even though it needs a new electric panel, lots of gutter and soffit work, the windows are a mess (But original! With storms!),  the a/c unit is possibly older than am I and there’s basically no kitchen.

* Incidentally, does anyone else recall the movie “The Competition” with Amy Irving and Richard Dreyfuss? It was one of my favorites when I was younger, but I’ve yet to meet anyone else who’s seen it.