DECORATING AMIDST THE RUBBLE

(...or How Thaddeus Learned to Ride the Squirrel)

Like few homeowners in the midst of a major construction project, the first half of our week was spent ignoring the obvious holes in the ceiling, clogged drains, dead outlets, and grease-soaked carpet in a 2nd-floor kitchen that will soon be a guest suite. Instead, we chose small decorating projects that didn't have any heavy machinery involved. I still feel like wearing a fencing mask every time I pick up a tool, and sharp edges make me flinch!

There were no ghost sightings this week. I don't know what the vacation season is for disembodied spirits, but this seemed a nice week for the Finches to get away.

After placing a Victorian doll (Thaddeus) straddling a stuffed squirrel on our coffee table, I felt my work for the week was accomplished. Ron had other plans. Plans that included the dreaded crowbar that I had left, bloodied and serpentine, ready to strike, right where it lay after it attacked my face last week. That crowbar made me feel like a sissy, a feeling I was ready to embrace and live with, rather than ever pick it up again.

We started late in the week finishing the project I had started in the hallway, opening up the door frame. Ron did the heavy labour, I hauled the discarded drywall around the corner. I thought this system worked great, so we moved to another spot downstairs. We removed a hallway and closet from our dining room. I passed out Gatorade and told Ron everything he was doing wrong, and how I'd do it differently. Again, I thought this was a great system, but if you hear of me getting knocked cross-eyed again by a swinging crowbar, it will be NO accident.

Ever the intrepid Urban Archaeologists, we moved to the kitchen to remove a dropped ceiling that had started dropping on its own. I didn't realize dropped ceilings dropped themselves, but this ceiling took its title very seriously. After removing a ca. 1990's dropped ceiling, we found a ca. 1970's dropped ceiling. Under that was a ca. 1930's dropped ceiling, and under that the original 1884 plaster ceiling. There were assorted dinosaur bones, Jimmy Hoffa, and a garish retro floral wallpaper that I can understand being covered. I would have constructed something over it myself, rather than look at it! We removed it all.

We also took out a couple walls upstairs this week. We still haven't found any treasures, but we did find a steak knife and a half-eaten sandwich sandwiched between the drywall.

We start our Sunday listening to Mae Williams and prepping ourselves to install a huge window in the front of the house. If you know that woman's sad biography, you can tackle any frustrating project knowing she had it worse!

More next week-

Jon (and Ron and Atticus.)

p.s. the Finches just called. They'll be arriving late Thursday.