Paint

After the clearning, grinding, washing, and acid bath, the concrete floor was ready for paint. I decided to use Behr garage floor paint, which is applied in a two part epoxy process. The primer is the first part of the epoxy and the colored paint is the second part. This is supposed to make the finish more durable.

The primer went down pretty easily, though it was a very sticky process, and the colored paint also applied pretty evenly, albeit with a good bit of slopping on the white baseboard.



The color while the paint was still wet looked a little more yellow than gray. I nearly bought another gallon of a different color, but decided to wait until it dried. Fortunately, the yellowishness faded when it did.

You are supposed the let the primer, the first part of the epoxy solution, dry completely for at least 8 hours before you apply the top coat. And I did that. However, I had let the paint roller rest on the floor overnight and when I set about applying the top coat, I discovered that it had left a wet mark of primer where it sat. I figured it would be no big deal if I just went ahead and painted over that small wet spot. WRONG.


Lesson learned: let the first part of the epoxy mixture DRY before applying the second part. Else you will wind up with a crinkly patch that looks remarkably like a paint roller.

Anyhow, other than that little patch, it all seems to have turned out just fine and ahead of the Thanksgiving deadline!!





I'm soliciting volunteers to help move some furniture back into the room and assemble a lovely West Elm futon!!

Skillz

This post is really for Dad, who will be tickled to hear that I zapped myself twice last night trying to wrangle the wires onto the GFI outlet. In my defense, they were thick, maybe 10 gauge.

The green light means it's working :)

I am perfectly capable of swapping out an outlet or a light switch provided nothing unusual is going on in the box. But when I yanked this bad boy out of the box and discovered there were 3 black wires, 3 white wires, and a ground I might as well have found an octopus behind the wall:

Another phone call to Dad, who provided the following solution:




1 foot of 14 gauge wire and 2 wire nuts were apparently all I needed. I learned from the "master electrician" at Home Depot that this process is called pigtailing... I think he was trying to intimidate me with fancy terminology so I'd give up and just hire him to do my job.

Final Product! My fresh, clean, white outlet!

Floor Prep

No way, no how am I going to go through this again, ever. Or at least, I refuse to rip up another basement's worth of soggy carpet and padding. (Incidentally, I need to give a shout-out to Faiz who, even with a tetanus-y foot, loaded his truck with my mountain of carpet trash and took it away.)

Obviously, re-carpeting the basement was out of the question. Hardwood floors were nixed too. The concrete sub-floor looked a little too uneven for a smooth tiling job. Painting the thing seemed like the easy and most practical route.

apartment therapy and the diy network both gave me some good tips on how to get it done. All I would have to do is clean the floor, degrease it, etch it with an acid, prime, and paint!

Just a couple of problems:

First, the floor was still very dirty. Patches of carpet padding pockmarked the concrete, which was also decorated with rivulets of glue where I had already managed to pull up the padding.

Padding & Glue Rivulets

Second, there were two raised lumps of concrete, where a previous owner had apparently patched the floor.

my lovely concrete lump

Getting the padding and glue up was simply a matter of elbow grease, but the concrete patches were another matter. That was going to require a hand held grinder with a diamond cup wheel.

I considered waiting until Dad came down for Thanksgiving and letting him do it, but I wasn't sure he could carry that kind of equipment on the airplane and I really need the basement ready so Edmund can sleep down there over the holiday.

Hertz equipment rental actually wanted $170 to rent me the grinder and wheel for a day. Home Depot in Fuquay Varina let me have the grinder for 4 hours for $25 and sold me the wheel for $50. Hertz equipment rental can go hang out with Rainbow International.

Bad-Ass Grinder

The grinder cut into the concrete like it was butter. I had anticipated flying chips of cement, so I had picked up safety goggles ($5.98), but I hadn't accounted for the clouds of dust:

This is actually after it cleared a bit.

I was concerned about working in this dust, as I was running a half-marathon the following morning and was pretty sure that inhaling concrete particles wouldn't help me run faster. Without a dust mask, I had to improvise:

Declaring jihad on concrete lumps.

(Insert Awful Half-Marathon in the Driving Rain, requiring 3 days recovery, both physical & emotional.)

Last step before painting: Cleaning & Etching & Re-Cleaning.

Careful to add the acid to the water, and not the other way around, I washed the entire floor with the solution, so the primer would better adhere to the concrete surface.



I hosed all this down (yes, I RE-FLOODED the basement on purpose), vacuumed it all up with the wet-vac, and let it dry for several days before applying the primer.


Next post: Paint.

Plumbers

American Home Shield warranty assured me on Saturday that they'd have a plumber to me by Monday. MONDAY!!!!! I could live without heat or air conditioning for two days, but how was I supposed to go without water?

Fortunately, the dispatcher at Carolina Plumbing & Water Systems had AHS reclassify my situation as an emergency and I had a pair of plumbers on the job Sunday morning. And what a pair they were. Dressed head to toe in cammo (seriously, hats to shoes), they were awfully concerned that I was unmarried. I feigned indignance (never mind the previous day's fit about being a single girl dealing with a basement flood), but they assured me that they were confident that my situation would be rectified: I would definitely get married and have many, many babies someday. (I wondered if I would be charged extra for their clairvoyance).

My cammo-loving, future-telling plumbers assessed my hot water heater, confirmed that it was the source of my flood, and drew up an estimate. After a $60 service charge, AHS would cover the cost of the replacement water heater, labor charges, and haul off of the old unit. They do not, however, fully cover "code upgrades." My house and presumably my deceased hot water heater are/were 20 years old, and Raleigh has made a few changes to its plumbing codes since then. It now requires an expansion tank ($150), 2 dielectric unions ($100), a disconnect box within 3 feet of the hot water heater ($125), and something called "T&P Mod" ($65). AHS covered only $250 of the upgrades, which left me paying $250. Coulda' been worse.

Expansion Tank

Dielectric Unions

Disconnect Box

If anybody can spot the "T&P Mod," I'll buy them a beer.

The funny thing about disasters

The funny thing about disasters is... well, nothing. In fact, you're so overwhelmed by shock, anxiety and self-pity that you fail to foresee the blog post potential in the event. And that explains why I do not have any photographs to illustrate the mayhem of the day I discovered that my hot water heater had ruptured and flooded the basement.

Some background: I had been very busy. I was out of town. I had friends in town. I battled a flea-infestation of Biblical proportions. And, consequently, I had ignored the giant mess that had grown in the basement over the past parental visit in August. But, on a rare weekend that I did not have to work or travel or host, I decided that it was time to clean the basement. So it was that on Saturday, October 24, with a garbage bag in one hand and rubber gloves in the other, I stepped into the basement and was greeted by a splash.

The splash brought to mind the funny, but muffled, hissing/running water sound that I had noticed perhaps a day earlier, but attributed to a neighbor's shower. Yet, a small part of my subconscious registered the noise as sinister. I should have listened to that voice, but I didn't. I figure the hot water heater had about a 24 to 36 hour lead on me. There was 1/4 to 1/2 an inch of water ALL over the basement, which according to my amateur calculations amounts to betwen 150 and 200 gallons over a 600 sq ft area.

Did I mention that the basement was carpeted?

June 2009

When disaster strikes, some people remain calm, some people break down, some people run. I call Dad.

Dad's first instruction was to turn off the water to the house. Why hadn't I thought of that? After the water was off, I headed to Lowe's to get a wet-vac ($89.97), while I called American Home Shield to see if my home warranty covered hot water heater explosions and texted half the people in my phonebook to relate my woes of being a single girl with a flooded basement.

The plumbing company I spoke to put me in touch with Rainbow International, which deals with water, fire and also "trauma scene" cleanup. The nice gentleman from Rainbow assured me that I was dealing with a very serious situation which would require special equipment and expertise and would likely cost $2,500. Now, if I had a flood of bloodborne pathogens in my basement, I might consider forking over $2,500 for professional help, but water???

Back home, vacuuming water off the floor and cursing my luck, I heard the dog barking. Upstairs, there was an angel standing at my door. Cousin Catherine was there with a pair of galoshes in one hand and a box fan in the other. Over the course of the next few hours we got the water off the kitchen tiles and determined that the carpet was beyond saving. We cut the carpet and the padding (read: 350 sq ft of very absorbent sponge) into little bits, bagged it all, and threw the debris out the door. (I am sorry I don't have a picture of the giant pile of trash, because it was so large that it prompted the neighbors to wonder and gossip about WHAT project Anne could possibly have going on NOW...)

Because no day in the life of a Burke is complete without at least two trips to a home improvement warehouse, we returned to Lowe's to get a dehumidifier ($239) and a hose ($7) to drain it into the shower so I wouldn't have to empty the bucket every 20 minutes.

Wet-Vac

Dehumidifier

ShopVac ($89.97) + Dehumidifier&Hose ($246) < $2,500
Rainbow International can take a hike.

Tomorrow's installment: plumbing & grinding.

In Search of Just Right

I picked up two clocks at Target yesterday -- one large, the other smallish -- to hang over my newly painted fireplace.

As mom and I held one up (too big) and then the other (too small), I felt like Goldilocks looking for just the right fit.

Anyway, I'm soliciting opinions. Big? Small? Neither? Suggestions?

Hello? Is anybody still reading this?

It's been over a month since my last post, so I wouldn't be surprised if my readers (few as they were) have abandoned me. But it has recently been suggested that since my parents were in town for the last two weeks and since the remodeling had started up again, that a new post is expected.

Progress has been substantial and I'm very pleased with the result. It may take a few posts to cover everything, so I'm going to stick to the first floor today:


LIVING ROOM

Closing day, March 31, 2009.

April 6, 2009


August 22, 2009


KITCHEN

March 31, 2009


April 6, 2009


August 22, 2009

Happy (belated) Father's Day

I meant to write this post on Sunday, but time got away from me, what with traveling up to NY and back. However, since I heard an ad on the radio this morning encouraging shoppers to go out and get a Father's Day gift, I figured it's not too late to pay my own little blog-tribute to the man who jumped in his truck as soon as I got the keys to my house and barreled down I-95 through the night to help out for what I'm sure he did not figure would be almost three months.

For all my making fun of the Dad and his quirky Norwegian Bachelor Farmer / Old Fashioned Loaf tendencies, I am one very lucky girl. From keeping me company during the night on the bathroom floor during any number of childhood stomach bugs to collecting me on the side of the Hutchinson Parkway... and the Tappan Zee Bridge... and New Rochelle Hospital after a good few mid-twenties car accidents, Dad has always been right there when I've needed him.

Dad and I drove his truck up to New York on Saturday, and I flew back down without him. Charlie and I sat down on the sofa after dinner last night, and he looked at me as if to say, "Something's missing." I rubbed his neck and said, "I know." However, as I tidied up before bed, I was comforted by an array of tools still scattered about the place: He'll be back.

Norwegian Bachelor Farmer Tendencies

Last night, as he stumbled out of the dust and rubble of what used to be my bathroom and onto his bed, Dad jerked his thumb back toward the wreckage and mumbled "Clean that up in there, would you?"

This seems like a simple task that requires no more skill than the ability to wield a broom and a dustpan. But before I continue, let's play a game. I want you to divide the following photographs of things I found in my bedroom last night into two categories: "JUNK" and "NOT JUNK." (Answers will appear at the bottom of this blog post.)

(1) Lightly used nails & screws.

(2) Plastic electrical box; 2 inches of corner bead; and I'm not sure what to call the other things.

(3) Used plywood; 18 inches of 4inch PVC; tar paper dug up from under the old linoleum floor.

(4) More PVC removed from the old drain below the toilet.

What a lay person may not know is that what Dad thinks is garbage and what the rest of the world thinks is garbage are two different things, and that anyone cleaning up a Redmond Burke job site needs one extra special skill: the ability to read Redmond Burke's mind.

A typical cleanup involves the following conversation at least five times:
Anne: [yelling] "Dad....? Is this garbage?"
Dad: [hollering] "What?"
Anne: "THIS!"
Dad: "Well, you might consider it garbage. And it might be one day. But, for now, just put it behind the machine. You know, just today I went down behind the machine and found [insert garbagey item] which was just what I needed!"

Clarification: "The machine" is the air handling unit of my HVAC system. "Behind the machine" is the small area of the closet not taken up by the air handling unit.

Here are just some of the things that currently live behind the machine:

"The Machine"


Assorted bits of PVC fittings.

Doors from the cabinets we tore out of the kitchen.

The fluorescent lamp that used to hang in the kitchen.

Extra slats for the blinds in Catherine's kitchen, in case Charlie goes bananas on them again.

I'm just sayin'. There's a lot of stuff already behind the machine.

Yesterday, on the News from Lake Wobegon, Garrison Keillor described this pack-rat mentality perfectly in his sermon about Norwegian Bachelor Farmer tendencies:

"Norwegian Bachelor Farmer tendencies start when you set something down in a place it doesn’t belong and you leave it there.

Even for two minutes.

You put your beer can down on the floor and you put a pair of socks down by it.
And then you add a magazine.

And before you know it these things multiply. And you come back and suddenly you’re wading through debris and flotsam and jetsam on the floor and pretty soon you’ve got a car up on blocks in the weeds by the garage. And you’ve got old refrigerators with the doors hanging open. And appliances out there. And you’ve got bed springs sitting in your front yard.

And now you’ve gone around the bend and you need intervention, 'cause a person can’t live alone.
Most people are unable to live alone.

All of us need adult supervision. And that usually comes from a woman who lives with you. A woman who says 'What are you doing with that?' and 'What did you put that down there for?' You need a critic. You need a critic."

Well, that's all the news from Lake Ferry. Where all the woman sees is trash, all the man sees is treasure, and all the dog sees is a pair of blinds in the way of his view of the cat across the street.

--------------------------
Answers:
(1) NOT JUNK
(2) NOT JUNK
(3) NOT JUNK
(4) NOT JUNK

Count Down

I'm supposed to be returning the Dad to New York this coming weekend. So I sat down after dinner last night and started making a list of things left to do, and I'm positive I've forgotten half the things that should be on the list.

To Do

Basement

1. Clean carpets
2. Clean bathroom (partly done, Sun)
3. Patch popcorn ceiling in bathroom (done, Sun)
4. Paint bathroom
5. Finish painting up stairway
6. Install 4 lights
7. Put up blank wall plate on kitchen ceiling
8. Hang bathroom door & closet doors

1st Floor

1. Finish putting cork on cabinet shelves
2. Finish painting cabinet doors
3. Polyurethane and attach kitchen kick-plates
4. Order satin nickel kick-plate for front door
5. Install toilet-tissue holder & towel holder in powder room
6. Have mirror cut for powder room
7. Install telephone jack
8. Change window latches
9. Rewire dining room chandelier

2nd Floor

1. Change outlets & switches in master bathroom (done, Sun)
2. Remove caulk from bathtub seam
3. Finish white grout behind toilet
4. Paint un-tiled walls
5. Tile inside of soffit
6. Paint master bathroom door
7. Change door-knobs & hinges in master bedroom
8. Change closet door track
9. Basically everything in the rear bathroom
10. Etc.
11. Etc.
12. Etc.

Attic

1. Lay down new insulation
2. Lay down floor

I was pretty depressed and overwhelmed most of Saturday, knowing that all these tasks loomed and I was going to have Dad for only one more week. But writing the list out was cathartic and I feel slightly more cheerful. It also helped that my mother promised to visit with Dad sometime in August :)

For some perspective on why I was feeling glum, however, let me illustrate:

The view from my bed.

The great wall of tools, now in my bedroom.


My toilet, a PVC latrine.

Idle hands are the devil's tools...

... but how do you know that the devil's not the one keeping your hands busy?

Last week Dad reckoned that his work was just about finished here. And when he started putting his tools in the truck, I panicked for a few reasons: first, there's still a lot of work to be done; second, I've never stayed here alone and I'm scared; and third, I'll miss him.

He had arguments to counter each of mine: (1) You can do it. (2) Get over it. (3) A round trip flight is about 150 bucks if you miss me that much. I'll pick you up at LaGuardia.

My ace in the hole is the gas stove, which will be delivered 6/15. Dad figures I can change an outlet or a light switch. He even plans to "let me" (="leave me") install a bathroom vanity on my own. (I've been assured by friends who are as ignorant of this as I am that there are plenty of YouTube video tutorials that will help me.) But propane is a different story. I could kill myself, demolish the house, and maim my neighbors. So he's stuck here until 6/16 (propane tank delivery date) at the earliest. :)

Fearing boredom and idle hands, however, Dad needed a new "big project" to occupy him for these two weeks. Simply tying up the loose ends from all the other big projects wasn't going to be enough to keep the devil at bay. Thus, the bathrooms (which weren't going to be re-modeled until the Fall) are getting an overhaul NOW.

Old bathtub.


Old vanity & sink. I swear, this isn't just a re-post of the black clamshell sink from the powder room. The house was blessed with 3 of them.

The bathroom as seen from the bedroom. Check out the neato linoleum floor.

What do you call a bathroom when it has no bath?

This was the second of three times we had to put this tub in. Apparently the room isn't quite 'square.' I have bruises up and down my legs from the ordeal. Just when the purple marks start fading to yellow, we've got another monster to haul and I get bruised all over again.


Skinny Dad. I swear I'm feeding him.


This is Dad's bedroom. He sleeps here. Like this. And that's OK because he doesn't have to get up and try to look clean enough to go to work.

But when I got home from work to find my bathroom partially demolished...
... I was a little alarmed.

Idle hands indeed.