Finished

Please understand that "finished" is a flexible term here at Mucky Boots. By "finished" we generally mean something that is functional and largely complete except for a few details we'll eventually get around to. We hope.

Our goal was to get the Last Big Project completed before the big birthday party, and even though it was a lot of work, and an ambitious deadline, and we both got really tired and grumpy, we got it finished. Er, sort of. We still need to sort out how to change the fluorescent light fixtures in the mud room and the laundry room to something more charming, and then do a more straightforward light fixture change in the powder room.

Speaking of the powder room, here's what it used to look like. If you're not a really long time reader of the blog, you might want to check out the story about the day we removed the old sink, only to discover that not only had it been tiled in, it had been drywalled in. And, even worse, the studs had been notched out to accommodate it. My oh my.

Finally, two-and-a-half years after demolition, here's the after. If this photo looks strange, it's because it is strange: the room is so tight I had to stand on the verandah and take the photo through the window screen.

By the time we were ready to install the new vanity we thought we were coasting downhill. I should know by now that's a dangerous thought. Because the drain pipe coming from the wall was low enough we would have had to drill a really big hole in the shelf of the vanity to allow enough room for the p-trap. Naturally, we didn't want to do that, so we got clever and sawed an inch off the legs instead, and opted for a p-trap without a clean-out which saved us another inch. Problem solved! Of course the whole thing necessitated five trips to the hardware store, but that's just par for the course...

Now that The Last Big Project is done - sort of - what's left are a myriad of odds and ends. A bit of trim left to paint. A transition strip to install. Some baseboard that needs nail holes filled and painted. One interior door that somehow got missed when all its neighbours were painted. But all that feels really, really minor. 

I didn't know how good it would feel to get the house finished. I look around and instead of seeing projects left to do, I see home. 

That feels pretty darn good.

The last wall

Big announcement: we have painted The Last Wall.

We have been renovating this three-story house from top to bottom, which has meant, in part, painting every single wall. Make that scrubbing, patching and painting.  And on Friday, more than three-and-a-half years since we began, we finished the last one.

There's still some trim to paint in various locations around the house, but we're done with the walls. We're so close to being finished the Longest Home Renovations on Record we can taste it.

The best part? We finished with just a bit of paint left in the can. And then we went out for lunch.

Laundry

I've been thinking a lot about laundry these days, mostly because the laundry room is one of the rooms we're currently redoing. Which means our washing machine and dryer are living a life of leisure on the front verandah, having a little holiday while we make their special room a bit more special.

I'm aware of this every time I take off my clothes, because the knowledge that we're going to have to go to the laundromat if we want clean clothes is making me give a lot more thought to whether any particular item can be worn just one more time. This is a good thing, because we've been pretty cavalier about the amount of laundry we do. We can certainly afford to be more frugal in our clothes-wearing and clothes-cleaning habits, for a whole variety of reasons: energy use, hydro bills, time and effort, and wear-and-tear on our clothes. So even once these last renovations are done and our washing machine and dryer return to their rightful place, I hope the habits we're forming now stick.

We made our first trip to the laundromat yesterday, partly because the dirty clothes pile was reaching toppling height, and partly because Kim's current dental adventures (dentist visit for tooth pain followed by crown followed by more pain followed by emergency root canal followed by infection followed by antibiotics  followed by very uncomfortable side effects from the antibiotics - all of which is probably going to be followed by a search for a new dentist) meant she wasn't up to installing baseboard, but she was game for sitting in a chair at the laundromat while I fed coins into machines. 

In case you lost your way somewhere in the middle of that ridiculously long sentence, we went to the laundromat yesterday. And it was a very good reminder of how sometimes being poor can make you poorer. Because it cost $2.75 to run a medium sized load through a washing machine, and about the same to get it dry. Five bucks a load? Plus soap? Plus whatever it costs on public transit to get there? Wow. This is where I start thinking about community cooperatives, where people could share washing facilities without being gouged by laundromat owners. My mom always wonders why every family has to own their own set of luggage - couldn't we all share? I wonder the same thing about washing machines.

Speaking of my mom, being at the laundromat made me think of one of the happy memories from my teenage years. Our washing machine broke down one summer and it took a few weeks to get repaired. So my mom and dad would take the laundry to the laundromat - just the two of them - and spend the evening having a laundry date, sitting on the hood of the station wagon and eating bean salad from the local KFC. Even as a fourteen-year-old I thought that was pretty cool - that my parents liked each other's company enough that doing laundry together could make a date.

Since I'm writing about all things laundry, you might be wondering how things are progressing on the last phase of The Slowest Renovations of All Time. Here's the Before picture of the laundry room, which you've already seen. (Do I need to tell you that wallpaper was not one of the selling features of the house?)

Then it looked like this...

...and now it looks like this.

I know our choice of flooring might not be to everyone's taste, but I laugh every time I see it. In a good way. I love that floor. In fact, because I love it so much, here's a longer view of the mudroom and laundry room.

Burger and milkshake, anyone?

The last push

When we moved to Mucky Boots we knew the house needed a lot of work. The kitchen. All 2.5 bathrooms. 90% of the flooring. Most of the light fixtures. Every wall needed painting. I thought it would take a year once we left our jobs, although in retrospect I have no idea what I based that on. It's not like I actually knew anything about home renovations...

Fast forward three years and we're finally embarking on the last big project: the mudroom, laundry room and powder room on the main floor. After that there will be lots of loose ends to finish up, but once this last job is finished it will be downhill all the way.

We actually started this project a couple of years ago, when we demolished the powder room. But then we discovered that the empty room made a great space for brooding baby chicks, and other projects claimed our attention, and somehow more than two years have passed without any progress. Two years of stained vinyl flooring, damaged baseboard, dog-scratched doors, institutional fluorescent lights and unbelievably ugly wallpaper as the main entrance to our home. It will be so nice to get this project done.

But in the meantime there's some mess and disruption to get through. Kim and I emptied every room, moved the washer and dryer, took shelves off the walls, repaired every hole, stripped the wallpaper and removed the baseboards. So now our dining room is holding the relocated contents of the laundry room and mudroom, and looks like this...

...and our front hallway looks like this.

But the experts have arrived to install the new floor, and so our porch looks like this...

and the laundry room looks like this.

Already a big improvement. 

Unfinished

When I became a school administrator, one of the things I couldn't get used to was the fact that no job was ever finished. As a teacher I could feel a sense of accomplishment when a set of papers was marked, or I finished teaching a class. But as an administrator I was responsible for the professional development of my teachers, and the delivery of curriculum, and the establishment of good assessment practices - and when the heck are those things ever finished?

It's a good thing I had some practice with this before we moved to Mucky Boots, because "unfinished" pretty much describes my life. In fact, Kim and I are becoming experts at not quite finishing any job we begin.

Take the workshop for example. It started like this...

...and now it looks like this...

But do you see this?

That's right: we haven't installed the two motion-sensitive light fixtures. Yet.

And then there's the master bathroom. It started like this...

...and now it looks like this...

But take a good look at that last picture. Notice the missing window trim? And missing baseboard? And maybe you spotted that the towel rails aren't hung. Yet.

The wood shed is a thing of beauty since we enclosed it...

...but there are still tools that haven't been hung.

And some of the shrubs we bought a couple of weeks ago have been planted...

...but others haven't.

The new gutters got installed, and all the high-up trim painted...

...but the lower-down trim is still the old forest green.

The fire pit got mostly weeded...

...but then my back started to hurt and the rest didn't get finished.

The living room got its coat of paint and new baseboard...

... but if you were here you could bend a little closer and see that the nail holes haven't been filled.

There are good reasons for much of this. Too much of the same kind of work makes my arthritis flare, so I have to switch to something else, and then somehow I never get back to the job I started with. Or professionals come in to do part of a job, so we drop what we're working on and never pick it up again. Or good weather hits so we move to outside jobs. Or bad weather comes so we move back to inside jobs. Or once something is functional all those finishing touches seem not quite so important.

If I was smarter and wiser I would have something philosophical to say about the zen of unfinished work. But all I can say is it feels like we're living in a big pile of loose ends.

I think it's time to start tying some up.

Bathroom crunch

In our house we have two full bathrooms and a powder room. For a couple of women that should be plenty. But we're currently experiencing a crunch: bathroom square footage has turned into the most valuable real estate in the house.

The powder room has been out of commission for a year. If there was a show about home renovations that got started and then . . . well . . . never finished, it could star our powder room. We are going to finish it, but right now it's home to our sixteen chickies. It's a happy room, full of peeping and flapping and eating and pooping, but it ain't a bathroom.

The master bath is also being renovated, and work is actually progressing on this room. But a functioning bathroom it ain't.

That leaves the bathroom downstairs, the one we actually renovated ourselves (and finished!). It's pretty darn small: there better not be anyone sitting on the toilet when the shower door opens, that's for sure. We were already feeling a bit grumpy about having to make do with this bathroom while the master bath is out of commission, especially since if we have to pee in the middle of the night we have to go down two flights of stairs.

And then William had a little adventure.

William is a wild wanderer at heart, and despite his advanced age he really just wants to be outside. But sometimes that leads to trouble, as happened the other night when he got caught in our neighbour's raccoon trap. It's a humane trap, so it did no damage, but it meant William spent the night outside in the rain. Not good for a senior citizen. And we don't know whether he hurt his mouth trying to get out, or if he had an abscess brewing anyway, but a day later he had a swollen mouth that necessitated a trip to the vet. He's healing, but the upshot is we need to keep him inside, somewhere where he would be warm and not bothered by the rest of the menagerie. Ergo, the bathroom. Now we can't make a step backwards while brushing our teeth without putting a foot in the litter box. Ick.

This all reminds me of the story about a woman who was feeling very crowded in her house, what with her husband and kids and all. So she climbed to the top of a mountain to see a guru who told her to get some chickens. She did, but of course it made the crowding worse. So she went to see the guru again, who told her to get a pig. Then a goat. Then a cow. Finally the woman hiked to the top of mountain one last time, and the guru told her to get rid of the chickens and the pig and the goat and the cow, so she was down to just the husband and kids, and all of a sudden the house didn't seem so crowded anymore. Go figure.

We're off

Today was a big day at Mucky Boots. Today was Day 1 - demolition day - in the great, long awaited Master Bath Renovation. We have been waiting for this day for a long time.

We knew it was coming. We knew because the verandah was starting to look like the warehouse of a plumbing fixture store. Then this morning Wayne and Jason arrived and not long after our verandah looked like this.

Goodbye, old shower with the cheap brass finish that peels off like tape. Goodbye, toilet with the permanent iron stains. Goodbye, old sink with no place to put a toothbrush. Goodbye nautical-themed tile and mirrored shelves.

We have some work ahead of us. Wayne and Jason are doing the bulk of it, but when the demo stage is done they'll leave us with the first coat of drywall mud on and fresh plywood on the floors. Then they will go on to another job while we finish the walls and paint, and install tile on the floor, at which point they'll come back to finish up.

Yes, we've got a way to go, but I can just feel the hot water slipping over my shoulders as I sink down into my first hot, fragrant, steaming bath in more than two years. Soon, soon, soon.

Railing

Kim and I never seem to have just one project on the go at a time. Currently we're trying to make the last tile and fixture decisions for our bathroom renovation (tear-out starts in five weeks), we're still installing baseboard and trim in a bunch of different rooms in the house, and we're determined to get the powder room finished before our next house guests arrive in February. Oh, and I'm painting the railing of the staircase up to the top floor.

Forty-eight spindles and five posts. Three coats of paint. Enough said.

Petunia-Tooter-TunaHead-TooterMuffin is my Quality Control Advisor. So far, so good.

Mucky Boots still life

When Kim and I first saw this place we were enchanted - by the house that looked like a cabin, by the beauty of the property, and by the fact that the farm infrastructure was already in place.

The problem with being enchanted is you can't be objective. So we didn't really see a few significant problems: that the outbuildings either hadn't been finished or hadn't been maintained and would need significant repair. That the lovely deep verandah and surrounding coniferous trees would mean we would be fighting for light inside the house. And, especially, that the house needed work from top to bottom.

All the bathrooms. The kitchen. Almost all the flooring and baseboard. Both staircases. Every light fixture. Every wall would need painting.

What were we thinking? As Kim said the other day, "Were we stupid?!"

This came up when Kim ripped the carpet from the staircase that goes up to the top floor. It was dirty and stained, and carpet isn't very practical in a family with hairy pets and dust allergies. But we haven't been able to come to a decision about what to do instead.Finishing stairs can be tricky, and probably more fiddly a job than we want to take on. We'll probably end up doing a bit of patching of the rough lumber, then paint it with a really thick, durable floor paint and install a runner up the center. Ditto for the staircase down to the lower level.

But that's going to have to wait a bit, because the biggest project still waiting for us is the master bath upstairs. There is no bathtub. The floor is old lino. The toilet, sink and shower are hopelessly iron-stained from the days before the house had a water treatment system. We're looking at gutting it and starting from scratch, and I am happy to say we are smart enough to let the experts do most of this job. And there's no point finishing the staircase until the construction traffic up and down the stairs is done.

And at the same time we're getting estimates on the bathroom and trying to make decisions about the two staircases, we're trying to finish up the painting and baseboard on the main floor. Not to mention the powder room we got to the drywall stage before spring called us outside.

Hence the "Were we stupid?!" remark.

When people imagine our lives here they think of natural beauty, of a still-life composed of fresh veggies, fruit and flowers. Okay, there's some of that. But here's the real Mucky Boots still life.

I used to feel stressed about all this, but I don't any more. There is still lots to be done, but with the exception of not having a bath tub, everything is now functional and comfortable. Or maybe it's because we've already done things I never imagined we could do, so what's left doesn't seem so scary.

It just feels like a big adventure. A messy one, but kind of fun all the same.

Perfect day

We put a new roof on the chicken coop yesterday. The existing roof wasn't that old, but it didn't have enough overhang to protect the joists, and as a result damp was seeping through to the interior of the coop. Not good for our chickies.

As usual, it wasn't as simple as putting on the metal roofing panels. First we had to play lumberjack, and cut down the junky alders that were growing right up against the back of the coop. Which meant a trip to the chain saw store to get our blade sharpened. And we had to special order the roofing panels because we needed an odd size. But this morning we got to it, and it only took a couple of hours. We love metal roofing.

Plus, we had help. The chickens were cheering us on from ground-level and, as you can see, one even climbed the ladder to offer her help. What a nice chickie-chickie.

Or maybe she was just lodging a complaint about all the noise interfering with her laying...

Then in the afternoon I was part of the host choir for a sing-along performance of the Messiah. There is something holy (and I say that as a non-religious person) about people singing together - and what gorgeous music to be singing.

So it was a perfect day, one that feels symbolic of my new life: new roof on the coop in the morning, singing the Messiah in the afternoon. How lucky can one person be?

Finally done

It's done. The workshop is finally done. Well...almost.

We have been working on it for a year. Last November we started with this...

...a sturdy, well-built but unfinished workshop. It was definitely an asset when we looked at the property, but a bit of an eyesore. So last November we began with the siding and managed to get it done before the fall rains began in earnest. It involved some tricky cutting, a special heavy-duty nail gun rented from Rona, and lots of swearing as we worked really hard to maneuver the heavy, floppy panels into place. It was the hardest thing we've done at Mucky Boots - so far.

This summer we painted the siding and the doors, installed the trim at the corners of the building and around the doors and windows, and got started with the cedar shakes on the gable ends before - with the fascia, gutters, soffits and shakes still left to do - we plain ran out of steam.

Enter the professionals. $1500 and 3 days later, this was our workshop.

Doesn't it look charming? As our neighbours say, it looks like a bungalow. We think we might move in. Look at those lovely gable ends. Admire the red doors. And the gutters - we have gutters! No more rain dripping down our necks as we fumble with the key to unlock the door.

We didn't install the window trim quite correctly and there are a few small things left to do: the door needs a paint touch-up and the exterior lights need to be installed. But we're happy and relieved to be able to cross this big job off our mile-long to-do list.

You may feel happy for us, but you may also want to spare a thought for the poor rats, mice and squirrels who have been taking advantage of the fact the workshop had no soffits, and making their snug, warm homes in the attic of the workshop. They're homeless now.

Workshop progress

We've been working steadily on our outbuildings this summer: chicken coop and run, tool shed and workshop. And although we've known pretty much what needed doing, and have been working reasonably steadily, nothing has been linear.

We started by painting the workshop and the chicken coop. Then we began installing shakes on the gable ends of the workshop, but we didn't get far before Kim decided we needed to install the trim first. But before we could install the trim, we had to paint it. Then the chickens were ready to move from the house to the coop, so renovations to the chicken run took precedence. Then we had visitors. Yesterday we got back to the workshop, did some touch-up painting and discovered about 57 wasps' nests in the eaves. So while I and my wasp allergy waited at a safe distance, Kim did battle with the wasps and emerged victorious and unstung. Then we discovered we needed some extra trim for around the windows and had to make a trip to Home Depot. Then it just got too darn hot to work anymore.

See what I mean about non-linear? It can be hard to feel like we're making any progress. So in an attempt to boost my morale, here is a record of what we've accomplished so far with the workshop.

This is what it looked like the day we viewed the property for the first time. It's a 24 by 24 foot building, solidly constructed but never finished - it needed siding, trim, soffits, fascia and gutters.

Our first step was to install the tar paper and siding, which we did last November, finishing it just as the winter rains started. At the time, it felt like the hardest job we'd done - come to think of it, it still is.

This summer we painted...

...and then tackled the problem of creating some sort of scaffolding to enable Kim to get up to gable height to install the cedar shakes. At our local tarp 'n tool shop, Kim found these braces that fit over the rungs of an extension ladder. We used two braces, two ladders, and three full-size 2x6 pieces of lumber and voila - a very sturdy scaffold! Kim even screwed some 2x4 pieces to the underside of the planks to make them even more solid. I was extremely skeptical about tackling this job because of my concern about Kim working at such a height (notice there was never any question about me working up high!) but even I am satisfied by how sturdy this set-up is.

(We're doing the gable end on the back of the shed first, so we can make all our beginner mistakes where nobody can see them.)

Once the scaffold was up we finished tar papering the peak and installed the lathes the shakes will get nailed to. (I feel like I need to explain, somewhat defensively, my use of the word we. Even though it's Kim who works up high, it's me who cuts things to Kim's specifications, fetches and carries, helps problem-solve, and most importantly, picks up every item that gets dropped. So there.) At that point Kim decided the vertical trim at each corner of the building should really be installed before the shakes, to make sure they meet nicely, so we took a big detour from installing the shakes and focused on the trim instead. We painted (and painted and painted) and finally, today, we got to start installing the trim.

It's a bit complicated, because the windows and existing trim appear to have been installed with the plan of just painting the original plywood, and not doing anything else. So when we installed the siding, we changed the picture enough we had to add an extra layer of cedar trim inside the painted trim, to make sure there were no exposed edges. We were worried about the cost of buying 120 feet of millwork, but we stumbled on the solution of buying really inexpensive 1x2 cedar and ripping it on the table saw to make roughly square trim that matches the existing trim quite nicely.

This morning we got two windows and a door done before we had to go into town for an appointment - enough to make me feel like we're making progress. I guess it's like most jobs: the prep work takes forever, but once it's done things move along quite quickly.

What do you think...a red door?