So last night was the big big big demolition. We started with a bathroom and ended up with stud walls and bare floor joists. And a giant pile of old flooring, drywall, and cabinets in what was formerly my dining room...
Most of the demolition went smoothly. Gigantic guilt mirror safely stashed away, light fixtures removed, toilet disassembled (and water shut off). The 10' counter might have put up some token resistance due to it's sheer bulk, but it was no match for a determined Andre and a sawz-all. And the sheer unadulterated pleasure of swinging a hammer through drywall.
I swear I love demolition, but the next time we do something like this I vote we order a bin, have it parked in the back yard, and just huck stuff out the window. I've totally done my work out for the next few months.
Perhaps not surprisingly, demolition is also a time for discovery. Like an archeological dig, but without the little brushes. For instance, we knew that the vinyl on the floor had been just slapped down over another layer of slightly uglier vinyl - we could see that in the corners under the cabinets where it had already started pealing away. Under that vinyl was a sheet of 1/4 inch plywood - as expected. Under that, we (foolishly) expected to find the sub floor, although looking at the height difference between the bathroom floor and our hallway laminate, we should have known better.
So under the 1/4 inch plywood was a layer of peal-and-stick vinyl tiles (not too ugly), over another sheet of vinyl (really ugly), over linoleum (can someone explain the appeal of the muddy-pukey-dirt linoleum that was soooo popular in the 70's?). And then another layer of 1/4 plywood. As we braced our crowbars under the edge we briefly held our breath, but thankfully that was it. Another layer of plywood, this time the subfloor of 3/4 ply, and in surprisingly good shape! Pity we're taring that out too. We need to get into the floor for new plumbing.
So now, finally (mercifully) the last of the big chunks of remaining bathroom have been piled in the kitchen, awaiting their date with the dump.
There's something amazing that happens during the demolition phase of any project. That feeling of getting started on something new with all these bright ideas of what's to come. The chance to make something that was functional but boring into something that's exactly what we want.
Maybe it's a knitter thing, but I suspect it happens to all creatively-minded people. The blank canvas for art, the empty notebook of a writer, the un-milled lumber of a woodworker, or the neatly balled perfection that is new yarn. Things that sit awaiting inspiration and beg creation.
I think I'm going to go cast something on. Damn startitis!
Most of the demolition went smoothly. Gigantic guilt mirror safely stashed away, light fixtures removed, toilet disassembled (and water shut off). The 10' counter might have put up some token resistance due to it's sheer bulk, but it was no match for a determined Andre and a sawz-all. And the sheer unadulterated pleasure of swinging a hammer through drywall.
I swear I love demolition, but the next time we do something like this I vote we order a bin, have it parked in the back yard, and just huck stuff out the window. I've totally done my work out for the next few months.
Perhaps not surprisingly, demolition is also a time for discovery. Like an archeological dig, but without the little brushes. For instance, we knew that the vinyl on the floor had been just slapped down over another layer of slightly uglier vinyl - we could see that in the corners under the cabinets where it had already started pealing away. Under that vinyl was a sheet of 1/4 inch plywood - as expected. Under that, we (foolishly) expected to find the sub floor, although looking at the height difference between the bathroom floor and our hallway laminate, we should have known better.
So under the 1/4 inch plywood was a layer of peal-and-stick vinyl tiles (not too ugly), over another sheet of vinyl (really ugly), over linoleum (can someone explain the appeal of the muddy-pukey-dirt linoleum that was soooo popular in the 70's?). And then another layer of 1/4 plywood. As we braced our crowbars under the edge we briefly held our breath, but thankfully that was it. Another layer of plywood, this time the subfloor of 3/4 ply, and in surprisingly good shape! Pity we're taring that out too. We need to get into the floor for new plumbing.
So now, finally (mercifully) the last of the big chunks of remaining bathroom have been piled in the kitchen, awaiting their date with the dump.
There's something amazing that happens during the demolition phase of any project. That feeling of getting started on something new with all these bright ideas of what's to come. The chance to make something that was functional but boring into something that's exactly what we want.
Maybe it's a knitter thing, but I suspect it happens to all creatively-minded people. The blank canvas for art, the empty notebook of a writer, the un-milled lumber of a woodworker, or the neatly balled perfection that is new yarn. Things that sit awaiting inspiration and beg creation.
I think I'm going to go cast something on. Damn startitis!
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