My Hovercraft Is Full of Construction Workers

Well, the move is complete.  Mostly. 95% of our stuff is at the new place, excepting only an empty aquarium and some tools from the garage.

The new house is lovely, albeit packed to the rafters with our stuff, and covered in concrete dust and huge pieces of cardboard taped to the floor.

Wait, what? 

It seems the drain line and P-trap under the bathtub, being 53 years old, rusted through at some point and collapsed, leaking into the ground below the foundation, and into the walls.  This was discovered by the clean-up crew the day before we moved in, who thought it was clogged until they sent a snake-o-scope (whatever it's called) down the drain to check it out and discovered that, well, it was pretty much fucked under there.

Not to worry!  Our new landlady and her awesome crew are ON IT, and it's being repaired as quickly as possible.  Over the weekend as we moved our things in, contractors and crew were demo-ing the old tub and shower enclosure, removing the rusted pipes and trap, removed water-damaged wooden framing, and replaced it with new wood.  The wet and rotting wood attracted termites at some point.  They're gone now, but just in case, there's a termite guy coming in a few days, after which the new plumbing will go in, and then a new tile shower surround.  Sylvan and I've been driving 20 miles south across the city to shower at the old house, which is inconvenient, but it's only for a few more days.

So, for lack of "omg isn't my new house beautiful" pictures, I give you:

My current shower, or rather, some of it.

1.  Termite-eaten wood

2.  Entrance to the World of Og

The original (1965) iron tub.  Such a shame.

Original vanity cabinet and faucet.  The sink I think was replaced sometime in the 80s, and the paper holder...who even knows.

(The dirt is new).

THESE ARE SO CUTE.

I think toothbrushes must've been much smaller 53 years ago.

I haven't seen a towel rack like this since the actual 80s.  SO CUTE.

I have some paste stuff that makes my car's headlights clear and sparkly.  I've been wondering if that stuff would work on these things.  Hm.

















You know what the best part of all this is?  I don't have to fix ANYTHING.  MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!


Well, that's all for now.  Pics of the finished bathroom, and of the rest of the house, will be coming soon.  For now, I leave you with this cat, who is just making himself at home and doesn't seem to care that nothing is unpacked and put away yet:

YATTA!!!*

IT'S FINISHED!!!

All in all, this took: 

• 6 cut-off wheels on the Dremel (cutting the hole in the stainless steel sink for the filter tap. I kept breaking them)
• about $30 in parts, most of which were returned to the store once I realized I didn't need them (options!) - when it was all said and done it ended up costing me about $12 for all of this
• 4 trips to Home Depot (fail, fail, fail and fail), and
• 1 trip to Lowe's during which I received not one but TWO outstanding customer servicings, and which solved all of my problems because they actually have employees who know what they're doing and are willing to help.  SUCK IT HOME DEPOT. 
• 10 days, all told, from start to finish (time, money). 

Turns out, all the stuff the people at HD were telling me was basically bullshit.  Or rather, generalized "advice" based on (a) not understanding what the real problem was (not just based on my description, but a series of detailed photos I took of the plumbing), and (b) not actually giving a shit.  The guy I ran into at Lowe's (David) had been a plumber and a steel pipe-fitter all his life, and saw the problem in the photos right away: the people who built my house jimmied the plumbing together with cheats and hacks, just like they did every other thing in my house (budget house = everything's half-assed and incorrectly done).  I'M SO SURPRISED.   Not.  Anyhow, David assembled all the correct parts from the shelves, showed me how it was supposed to go together, and then showed me what the original installers had done that was wrong, how to get it all apart, and how to re-do it the correct way.

After a week and a half of futzing with patches and fixes, following David's advice I got the entire thing gutted and then re-plumbed in just two hours.  I put my tools away, I cleaned up the kitchen, ran all the dishes that have been building up since the 15th through the dishwasher (living single perk: it was only two loads), and SAT THE HELL DOWN.

Soooo shinyyyyy....  *_*

And holy cow, this thing is 11" deep.  My old fiberglass one was 9.5", and I thought it was too deep for comfort (it was, while I was doing 100% of my dishes by hand).  But the extra inch and a half means I can wash large pots and cutting boards that don't fit into the dishwasher without splashing water all over the kitchen.  Yay!

So, my BFF thinks I'm insane for doing all this myself, especially given the headache it's been.  But I haven't just replaced my sink:  I've learned how to replace a sink.  I've disassembled and reassembled everything under and on top of this sink twice each, including the disposal and water filtration system.  I learned new cutting techniques, new chemical processes, a new system of sizes and methods.  And best of all, now I know that if I ever need  to do this again, for myself or to help someone else, I CAN.  That alone is worth every frustrating moment.

~ fin ~

[This post brought to you by Aerosmith, and much dancing-around-the-kitchen.]



* Japanese for, essentially, "Hooray, I did it!" 

The Rougher Side of Searz

Well, either I was right about the sink replacement being a catastrofuck, or it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, or maybe just a case of accidentally calling something into being.

I've been to the hardware store twice this week - found the parts I needed the second time (hallelujah).  The second time I had to wait a couple of days until I had the money for more parts.  Turns out I needed to replace the P-trap, except that I couldn't - I couldn't find the exact one I had, and the ones the store had weren't the right size or type.  #Q$^&!#$^%@#!

Finally I figured out I could just remove my P-trap (and if you've never had the pleasure of smelling the water that sits in there, I highly recommend it.  It's a heady combination of bong water and poop, with very slight but delectable rotten-potato overtones) and alter it just a tiny bit so that everything lines up correctly.  This involved sawing it in half and inserting a small coupler in between the two ends to extend it (translation: I had to touch the inside. Ewwwww).

The fun part - yes, more fun than the bongpoopwater - was that I don't have the strength in my hands/arms to get the connector in place, and so I have to wait yet again until I can find someone willing to help push a couple of pieces together.

Meanwhile, my kitchen has looked like this all week:

Also, washing dishes in the bathroom sink and the backyard?  Not as fun as it sounds.  

Update soon.  I hope. Please.  I WANT TO USE MY NEW SINK DAMMIT. 

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A Kitchen CatastroF$@k (Part 1)

No, no, no - it's not that bad.   I just wanted to say "catastrofuck" (Jon Stewart's word).

So this happened: 

Hint:  not supposed to be in pieces.
Note: this happened during a cooking-intensive dinner party. AWESOME.

This bitty little clip, which is snapped in half, 

held the whole thing together.  

I looked online, but couldn't find a replacement clippy thing for this 10-yo faucet.  Fortunately, I actually had a replacement faucet and  sink in my garage - I was only waiting to buy a new disposal so that I could install everything together.

Unfortunately, the new faucet didn't fit the old sink; so the entire sink had to be replaced.

OBSTACLE

GROSS!!!  

GROSSSS. 

Finally, I manage to get the disposal off the sink:
AZIZ, LIGHT!!! 

All disassembled and ready for the install, hooray!  

I should note that this is only my second plumbing job, aside from replacing toilet flappers (anybody can do that);  and I'm pleased to report that the whole thing went really smoothly, and was far easier and quicker a job than I was anticipating.  From start to finish, everything you see in this blog post took about an hour and a half.

Dear Craigslist...

Now to install the new sink.... (continued in Part 2)



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Some Stuff Happened Over the Holiday Break

Things you will never, ever get from this blog:

1. Holiday stuff.  Ever.  

I had a great four-day weekend.  Er, five-day, actually.  Long story.  Anyhow, I got some shiz done. 

Firstly

This is your my kitchen on drugs. 

Actually, this is my kitchen sans functional dishwasher.  It's been that way for many, many years, and at first, I was alright with that.  I was just fine with doing the dishes by hand, and for years I just used the dishwasher as a big drainage rack with a door.  I had fantasies of ripping the thing out and building in extra cabinets, or pretty shelving, maybe something with a curtain in front of it, or maybe a pull-out recycling station. 

Then two things began to happen:  

- my love for back-strain and menial labor faded

- the giant drainage rack started getting manky

It would seem if you don't run a dishwasher? It doesn't get *washed*.  So now it's a giant dish rack with guck in the bottom requiring hands-and-knees scrubbing. 

FUCK THAT. 

A friend of mine recently bought a house in San Angelo, TX (far, far away.  Did you know that from my home, I can drive nearly five hours in nearly every direction and still be IN Texas? It's insane).  Anywho, he's remodeling, and he knew my dishwasher was a massive pain in my ass lower back, and so he was like YO DAWG I HEARD YOU LIKE DISHWASHERS...

So we met up a couple of weeks ago, and I marveled at this man who could single-handedly just lift appliances into my vehicle!  And then when I got home I realized I could do it, too, LOL.  Not as heavy as they look, dishwashers - but still, no mean feat (props remain due).  

Moral of the paragraph: free dishwasher. Brand new, energy-efficient, etc. Yay! 

Moral of the towels in the picture: do be sure you really HAVE turned off ALL of the water before disconnecting, lest you flood your kitchen and shoot yourself in the face. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *    *     *     *     *     * 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *    *     *     *     *     * 

So here sits [most of] the new machine, along with assloads of dirty dishes, an unused and rickety (but pretty) Ikea drain rack, and ALL THE TOOLS.  

Aside: 

1.  Cat supervisor. 

2.  Also new handles on kitchen cabinets.  Update when finished.  

You would not belieeeeeeve the bullshit I had to go through to get the damn thing adjusted to the right height for the counter, and LEVEL.  ARGH. 

Nifty stuff you find during projects like this. 

(Fun trivia:  when I first removed the original builder's carpet from what is now my sewing room, I found a huuge dried paint spill, and a large message written in all caps in black marker, circled, with an arrow pointing to the paint spill.   It was in Spanish.  I copied it down and plugged it into Google translator.  Know what it said?  "CLEAN UP THIS PAINT!!" )

Here's where we enter the comedy-of-errors part of this project, as if the thing with adjusting the feet wasn't enough (that wasn't really funny, though.  I threw wrenches at things).  

Firstly, this little brass doohickey (or hootie, if you prefer) is NECESSARY to the installation of my new dishwasher.  It's an elbow adaptor that connects the copper water supply line from the house to the, um, thingy on the dishwasher, if the two aren't the same size. I need it for the new unit.  I couldn't get this one off the old unit, because it's glued in place with magic.  

Secondly, after I  finally pushed the old dishwasher out to the curb, I realized that the new dishwasher had no power cord! 

I had no idea I could write a text so fast.  My friend says, "Dishwashers are hard-wired into the house, hon." 

"Bullshit, my old one had a plug, dude,"  I say.  So he tells me how to un-wire the plug and cord from the old dishwasher and wire it up to the new one, which I did.  Keep in mind that I'm doing this in boxers and a black tank top, my hair a shambles, and my legs covered with mud from shooting water all over the grubby floor...out on the curb, as fast as I can. 

It is to LOL. 

*

So, while this story does have a happy ending - it hasn't happened yet!  That little brass googaw is totally keeping me from hooking up my new dishwasher, but I'll be grabbing a new one from Ye Olde Hardeware Store in a couple of days.  

Oh, and also? The dishwasher saga is only part one. 

To be continued... 

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