Saga of the Spring Break Toilet Part Two

I stood on the kitchen sink and shoved at the probe. Despite my care, sheetrock dust drifted past my glasses and into my eyes.

“OK, I can see it now. That where you want it?” Hubby was sitting on the joists just inches above me. I answered the affirmative and climbed back down. I dragged my weary self back up the stairs.

“That spot is one inch from the wood support for the cabinets. Go at least three inches closer to the exterior wall before you drill anything.”

He didn’t listen.

Thankfully, Hubby came down for a visual check before proceeding. He began fussing at me about how he had already marked the circle, but the wood support would be in the way.

“Which is why I told you to move three inches closer to the exterior wall before you drilled…”

Mini disaster averted, he went up, re-drew the circle, and drilled the hole. He hung the support bracket and installed the light box. It was my turn again.

Did you know it’s incredibly hard to carve sheetrock with a steak knife? Really. It is. “Can I have the drill?” I asked after another trip up the stairs. (I definitely got my exercise that week.) I climbed back up to stand upon the sheet of plywood over the sink. I felt around the hole with my fingers several times to gauge the dimensions of the light box. I loaded a drill bit and drilled away. “That was is too wimpy.” I removed that bit and loaded a bigger one. Something said to me I should test it before getting back to work. The bit swung around crazily. I released the chuck and straightened the bit, then cranked the chuck back down. After I had made several holes nearly the dimensions of the box, I then connected the holes with the steak knife.

“Please come down and tell me this is good enough,” I asked after yet another trip upstairs. It was.

The temporary light fixture was hung. We connected the wires and turned the breaker back on. Once it got dark outside, we stood in the kitchen and marveled at our work. Think about how great it will look when we get the REAL light hung!

* * * *

“Say, don’t we have waterproofing stuff for bathroom floors someplace? I recall buying it when our old Lowe’s closed.” We searched the garage. By golly, we had TWO boxes!

Dad had suggested adding extra supports to give us something to nail the plywood edges to. After an unpleasant moment with the kitchen ceiling, (“Honey, you REALLY need to go look at the damage you’re doing down there…”), Hubby adjusted his plan of attack. Holes had to be drilled in the new supports to accommodate water and electrical lines. The plywood was carefully replaced. We swept and vacuumed, then collapsed for the night.

After sending children off to school, I attempted to begin spreading the waterproofing coating. The phone rang.

“Hello, Janie. Why didn’t I see you at church yesterday?”

“Well, the kids currently don’t have a toilet…”

“Oh, yes, that’s pretty important…”

Caller ID announced a doctor office was calling. I ignored them and continued to talk to the lady from church. Caller ID then announced Hubby was calling. My cell phone began playing “Flight of the Bumblebee” downstairs. I politely excused myself from the current conversation and called Hubby.

“The Boy Child’s appointment for later today has been cancelled. They couldn’t reach you, so they called me.”

I explained what had happened. The answering machine doesn’t answer when I’m on the phone.

“So, what are you doing?” Hubby asked.

“I’ve only been trying for the last half hour to START on the bathroom floor…”

The coating was very interesting. It goes on dark blue and dries black. I cut the fabric and covered all the cracks along the walls. The toilet hole was finished by all the scraps from the walls. “Apply a liberal coat to the entire floor.” OK fine. I slathered it everywhere.

Hubby came home. “That’s kind of neat looking,” he observed. “I’ll start on the tile now.”

The coating was still WET in the corner behind the toilet and next to the tub… exactly where we had planned to start. I jumped on it.

“Oh Gee! The floor’s still wet. Let’s go to Outback!”

Occasionally, I get my way. That night was one of those times. We ate our fill and went to bed earlier than we had for a week.

April 23, Catching up on Blogging

Where do I begin?

My MasterCard Moment:

New toilet for kids: $188;

Total spent at 3 stores over 3 days because old toilet was leaking and to "do it right": $1100 and counting;

4 days of "family togetherness": PRICELESS.


We had a nice visit with my parents for Spring Break. Most all of Grandma’s great-grandchildren, all of her children, and all of her grandchildren* came to see her in one day. That was nice for her and the rest of us.

*Jim intended to visit when we had dinner at his restaurant, but I don’t know for sure that he made it out to the Island.

On both the trip South and the return North, we stopped and saw my in-laws for a couple of hours. As I was trying to untangle a few tomato plants for MIL, I broke one. It was one of the few things I managed to get done (planted) the day after our return home.

Why? Heh. Read on.

After a nice breakfast out Wednesday morning, Hubby announced we should go visit Lowe’s. “The kids need a new toilet in their bathroom.” Lowe’s was running their normal “spend $299 at one time and get zero interest for 12 months.” We scoped out what we wanted, then returned home to take measurements and make a list.

Then the Hell began.

I lost track of how many trips to Lowe’s and Churchland Hardware that my poor Karl had to make. I did have the fore-thought to completely empty Karl’s bed. The two large boxes which act as Karl the Wonder Truck’s “trunk” had to take up temporary residence in our living room.

Hubby and Oldest came tearing into the house after that first shopping expedition at Lowe’s. “I’m LATE!” He had a meeting that would start in a few minutes. I told him to not worry about the stuff and just go. Several minutes after he left, the phone rang…

“Um, Janie, is he home?”

“No.” I could almost hear the panic start to build. The whole meeting depended upon Hubby’s presence. “He left several minutes ago. He’s probably pulling up to the Lodge right now.”

The girls really didn’t understand the meaning of “clean the bathroom completely of ALL stuff”. The girls took their last baths in their tub. We got everything movable out. When we ripped up the ancient linoleum, the scope of the problem hit us. There was mold around the toilet hole. A radius of more than twelve inches was pure black.

The whole floor needed to be replaced. The old toilet was temporarily moved to the tub. Various tools and the garbage can sat with the toilet.

All the new fixtures for the bathroom were removed from Karl and carried to the living room. We could barely move through the room. Hubby consulted with Dad via telephone and made a new materials list. I took a turn at gathering materials. Churchland Hardware didn’t have “flooring” plywood. We decided to send Hubby to Lowe’s instead. I insisted he get a power miter saw.

Yes, I insisted my husband purchase power tools. (Tim Allen would be so proud.)

We used the zip-rip-something saw that my parents gave Hubby for Christmas. We carefully removed the plywood from the center of the room. The toilet had leaked at some point in the distant past, but all was dry.

I worked around Hubby and managed to get the room painted. Just like in our bathroom, the rocket scientist that installed the sink couldn’t figure out what to do with the slightly too large sink top… so he cut holes in the wall to make it fit. (I would still very much like to find this person and slap the crap out of him.) With the old sink top removed, the wall needed to be patched. I had to balance mud drying time and priming and painting.

Gazing at the sheetrock of the kitchen ceiling, I made an observation. “If we were to install a light over the sink, now would be a good time to do it, rather than trying to do it all from below at some future point.”

This decision added at least one day to the job. Everyone had to take baths in our bathroom. The children were forced to use the downstairs toilet.

To be continued…

Open the Box? Nope.

My son thinks he is dying. Not literally, of course, but the suspense is killing him.

I refuse to open the box that came in the mail today.

Late last month, I discovered that my reward points for my credit cards had a lower balance and I hadn’t redeemed anything. I called and threw a polite fit.

“What do you mean they’re expired? Tell me WHERE on my statement did you warn me that 14 THOUSAND points were going to expire at the end of December? I was TRYING to let them build so I could get something really nice. You know, my husband’s Chase card statement has a line that you don’t have on mine: ‘points to expire on December 31, blah blah points’.”

In what many might say was only a minor victory, not only did I get those 14K points restored, there is NOW a line telling me when the next grouping of points will expire.

So there. Told you so.

I figured at this point, it was wise to spend those restored points before I forgot about them. I logged into the site and started building a wish list.

“Hey, Honey? Come look at this drill press, would ya?” I should share, right? It might be my credit card reward points, but his money does pay the bill.

After I finished looking at the large assortment of overpriced junk, I viewed my wish list. That drill press, being a tool and all that, would be used for, I don’t know, re-building the kitchen cabinets. I’m sure there are several crafting applications for a drill press also. I decided to wait on the tent that looked nice. Maybe I’ll ask for a Belgium waffle maker for my birthday or Christmas.

I ordered the drill press this past Saturday. It warned “four to six weeks for delivery.”

They lied. At least it was a good lie. The box was waiting on my doorstep on Thursday.

I wondered if the delivery person was slightly annoyed that no one was home. Then I tried to move the box. My God, that thing is HEAVY! The delivery person was probably relieved the doorstep was only as far as they had to carry it. I shoved, pulled, wrestled, and turned until the box was finally inside the door. I pushed it out of the walkway and left it there.

At this point I should mention I’m fighting a cold and/or wonderful Spring allergies. My symptoms include a lovely headache (Sinus pressure, ARRGH!!!) and zero energy. I was doing good to get that box of lead bricks inside.

Now, for the last several hours, I’ve had to listen to, “Mom, when are you going to open that box? It has Black and Decker on it…”

Don’t you just love emergent readers?

Papa Jimmie gave him an assortment of Black and Decker toys for Christmas. His Daddy has Black and Decker tools. A walk through Lowe’s provides us with plenty of “Look! More Black and Decker!!!” (He saw another toy set JUST LIKE HIS last visit.) Even if he’s not actually READING the name brand, he recognizes the company logo.

IF and I mean IF I open the box before this weekend, it will be after children go to bed and only to ensure all parts arrived intact. We have plans to attack the garage on Saturday. After the junk is removed and the shelves put in, there might even be room to set up the drill press permanently.

But I’m not opening the box now. Nope. Can’t make me.

My Mother is doing better

On Christmas Sunday, my father called. “I took your mother to the ER at 3 AM.” She had passed out in her bathroom. When Dad took her blood pressure, it was low (100/50). Mom had been experiencing severe pain between her navel and breastbone.

The doctors decided to X-ray her shoulder. The shoulder really hurt as they manipulated it to get the pictures they needed. Mom vomited. She’s very positive it was only from the pain.

Later, a CAT scan was done of her head. Her father died at age 68 of an aneurysm. Mom is 60. Aneurysm is officially ruled out at this time.

The family doctor is arguing with the gastroenterologist about sending a scope down her throat to have a look around. The “tummy doc” didn’t see a need to do the tests in the hospital. The family doctor thought otherwise, but since Mom didn’t have any signs of bleeding internally, he let it go. He signed the paperwork for her to be discharged.

Mom got home before Christmas was over. She celebrated by taking a nap. After two nights in the hospital, she needed some sleep.

Recalling a few funny things

You know it's a good movie when...

Dad (loudly): "What the Hell kind of pornography are you all watching?!?"

Mom, Josh, and Me: "Rocky Horror Picture Show."

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

Many years ago... a husband got a clue and shocked us both...

Me (on phone to friend): I just heard. It's final!

Friend: Oh good! I know you are happy that's done...

Friend's Normally Clueless Husband: Oh, her divorce came final?

(Long pause...)

Me: He's really with it tonight, isn't he?

Friend: Yeah. Weird.

Me: What's he been taking?

Friend: Don't know, but I'd better get him some more...

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

In Preparation for our trip to Maine...

Mother-in-law is giving us directions: Get off I-95 onto US Highway 1...

Hubby: Where?

MIL: Just get onto US 1.

Hubby: Where? Where do we get onto US1? What city?

MIL: Just get off I-95 onto US 1.

Hubby: Do you know how long US 1 is?

MIL: No...

Hubby: US 1 starts in Florida and ends at the Canadian border. Know how many times US 1 crosses I-95?

MIL: How many?

Hubby: Hundreds... Let me talk to Dad.

Karl Is Tired of Driving to Lowe’s

Today was the day the garage door was replaced. This was the original, wooden, pedestrian door; rather than the one you drive cars through.

We started out as a family. “Where are we going?” the kids pestered. “What are we doing? When are we going to be there?” The questions persisted until we turned into Lowe’s Home Improvement Super Store’s drive way. They were disappointed it wasn’t some place “fun”, but they rallied.

“I want a Bob the Builder book!” Youngest insisted. The girls took turns pushing the buggy with brother as rider. I picked up some pamphlets. Oldest was instructed to put pamphlets back. On it went the whole trip.

“The exterior door is 36 inches, right?” Hubby asked, confident he was right.

“No,” I burst his bubble, “it’s only 32 inches. Don’t you recall we had this discussion when we replaced the front door? IT is 36 inches. The side door is 32.”

“You are mistaken,” he insisted.

I was right.

We returned home and fed the children lunch. Hubby headed out to purchase the 32 inch steel door. When he returned and dragged it across the lawn, he discovered something else:

He needed a left hand door.

The right hand door needed to go back. I volunteered to take it. Oldest invited herself along for the ride. After much waiting, I was given a door “fresh off the truck”. The associates even had to remove staples and plastic wrap to get it off the pallet.

The correct door, Oldest, and I returned home. I hustled children into the backyard for some gardening fun. Much screaming and whining followed. The beans and peas found themselves in the dirt, in somewhat of a straight line. Hubby was making some interesting noises with power tools. The gnats had found Hubby and were enjoying their tasty snack.

Children were sent indoors to watch television. Of course, they failed to watch the channel they had been instructed to watch. Between checking on them, I helped Hubby with the final “stick the door in the hole” process. I also sprayed the grass with Malathion to annoy the gnats and other “No See Ums”. The cloud of irritating insects seemed to clear away from Hubby.

The new frame comes perfectly square. The old doorway is never square. Hubby finally shoved the door kit into place and stepped back. “That looks good,” he mused. Grabbing the level, he checked one side. “(Expletive), it’s square!” He checked the other side. He repeated his original dirty word.

“Check the top,” I suggested. It too was square.

“Where’s the lock set?”

“I don’t know. Are you sure we have one?”

Karl the Wonder Truck made his fourth trip to Lowe’s. First was the whole family, followed by Hubby getting the wrong door, then my two trips. Karl was about to show how grumpy he was getting.

I was heading to the check out when I heard music. “Sounds like someone dropped a cell phone back there. Dang! that’s close to me. Oh, crud, it’s MY phone.” It was not easy trying to look for a cell phone while not dropping the two pieces of trim board. I missed the call. When I finally got to the phone, I saw it was a call from home. “Did you call me?” I asked as soon as Hubby answered.

“Yes, your Dad called. He said you should get the new locks keyed to match the front door.”

Brilliant!

After a nice chat with the locksmith, I struggled to carry my purchases to the counter. I really should have gotten a buggy this time. I took the locks, the trim pieces, and the magnetic curtain rod to the truck. How could I get them all inside without leaving Karl’s hatch open on the Interstate? Aha! The windows! A couple of trips back and forth, and I have the ten foot length of trim board from the cab to the tail gate. The windows were hard to open. This was not good.

I got home and handed Hubby the locks. The instructions fell out of the bag and Hubby couldn’t find them. “Floor,” I said as I reached for the WD-40. The WD-40 REFUSED to spray. What the heck? So next I found the bottle of Three-In-One Oil. Much oil was spread upon the tracks and Karl decided to finally allow his windows to be closed.

Hubby managed to get the door knob installed. Small bits of wood had to be removed so stuff would fit properly. He admitted temporary defeat and went inside to warm up. After a short period of staring at the dead bolt in his hand while sitting upon the sofa, Hubby decided to try again.

The long and short of it: it’s done.

New exterior, steel, 9-pane door: $125.
New locks re-keyed to fit your existing keys: $65.
Magnetic curtain rod to hide the mess in the garage: $12.
Number of trips to “Make it Happen”: 4.
Saying “I’m done”: Priceless.

Snakes on a Crowbar

Do I really need to point out that this really happened? So it was only ONE snake, but "Snake on a Crowbar" doesn't have the same ring to it...

Dad had purchased the house down the street. It was a junker and he bought it for a song. The original hope was that the house could be renovated and we would just simply move down the street. It was not to be.

Cleaning up the back yard, Dad was attacked by a swarm of wild bees. The bees had taken offense to a lawn mower passing over their dirt home. Imagine you are the bees for a moment. Here you are, setting up your home in a yard that hasn't been mowed for almost 20 years. I guess we can't really blame the poor bees. Dad got some super strength anithistamines and recovered. You can't keep an old bee keeper down.

As Dad, Mom, my brother, and I worked on the house, we discovered that more than half of the boards were rotten. Dad's dream of a simple renovation went down the toilet. We set about disassembling the house. Sometimes Dad managed to get his brother to help. Sometimes we kids would bring a friend or two to help.

So here it was one Saturday. I had my favorite job: the burn pile. (What can I say? I'm from a long line of pyros.) The Jerk was there, pretending to help. As usual he was doing little actual work. We heard the screams and thumping from inside. Brother ran outside. Here's what happened in less than one minute:

Dad was ripping trim boards from over a window.

His tool of choice was a crowbar.

A snake had taken up residence in the space above the window.

When the trim board was pried away, the snake fell out.

It landed on Dad.

Dad screamed, "SNAKE!!!" and proceeded to make it DEAD.

With many thumps and whumps from his crowbar.

Dad looked up to discover his helper (Brother) was GONE.

At this point, The Jerk wanders inside to see what sort of snake it was. "It was only a non-poisonous black snake," he opined. "There was no reason to kill it. I could have just released it out back."

Dad's response?

"It touched me. It died."

Can you imagine having the gall to inform a very surprised man that he was supposed to stop what he was doing and ensure whether the snake was poisonous or not BEFORE killing it? Come on! This was inside a house! It might have been so old and rotten that no one was ever going to live there again, but A SNAKE WAS INSIDE HIS HOUSE! Do you really want to take a chance on any snake getting away and taking up residence in another part of your house?

Besides, Dad has had issues with snakes in the past. I won't tell you about the cobra in the chicken house tonight.