Tuesday, May 18, 2010
home (ahem...) improvements
I have one bathroom. It is really small. It has the tiniest sink you could ever imagine. It has linoleum floors which I painted blue, for fun, which turned out to be not-so-fun afterall.
Being that my bathroom is really small I thought, to myself, I should really improve the aesthetics, so that potential renters will say, on their drive home: "I love the house, honey. The bathroom is really small but it is SO CUTE."
I thought, again to myself, gee, I should use those vintage tiles I have been keeping for YEARS and finally tile the floors. And then I thought, gee, I should find a sink that actually fits in here. And perhaps a cupboard. And a mirror. For really cheap. And so I did. (I heart the RE-Building Center!)
I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I ripped out the sink. I took out the toilet and tore off the linoleum. I took down the shelves and the shower curtain. I made a big mess and big holes and put it all in the bathtub. This was Friday.
By Saturday my fingers were raw from sanding and ripping and sanding and tearing. By Sunday I realized that VINTAGE means USELESS when it comes to 50 year old self-adhesive backing on tiles. By Monday I got used to my 5 gallon bucket toilet (who says kitty litter is for kitties?) By Tuesday I had the holes fixed and the walls painted. Wednesday I put the toilet back in and contemplated the sink. Thursday I caulked everything. Tonight I take a bath.
Lori, my contractor friend, called me almost every day, wondering if she should come and rescue me from my project. Nay (I said), I will best this tiny bathroom, using only my imagination and whatever tools I have in the garage.
Who knew it could be done? For $50 and some elbow grease, I have a new bathroom. Except for the sink. For this I need Lori.
The improvements did not stop there. What else do renters need at home? A garden, of course!
So I used 10X wheelbarrows worth of nail gravel (the gravel from my garage, full of nails n' stuff), old siding, some cheap (cracked) posts and a bag full of screws.
Et viola, a garden bed. Now for the dirt and chicken wire (so that the cats do not mistake it for their bathroom).
The final home improvement of the month.
Littleman has been growing his hair out for 6 months. So I go to the local Asia salon, where, for $7 I can de-fur what is known as my eyebrows, and Littleman starts this ruckus about wanting his hair cut. Short. 1" all around. Like Zachary.
So I immediately think of my mother, and say: "I have buzzers at home. I am not paying $12 for a haircut." To which he replies: "I prefer to have a professional do it. You always cut my hair, and you tell me to be open to new experiences. I would like to have a unique haircut experience."
Whose kid is this?
Well, he sure is handsome.
That is what we have been up to. Lots of elbow grease and late work nights. The to-do list keeps me on a weekly improvement cadence. I just keep with the mantra, "Tejas, Tejas. There's no place like home."
In a thousand years I never thought these words would escape my mouth.