Crack den Ceiling Repair. Day one.

Channelling my inner Sarah Richardson*, I decided to hand scrape my crack-den Master Bedroom ceiling, and then hang some beautiful embossed wallpaper, to cover the ugliness from the previous 100 years of sins.

In bad situations, people will tell you things like "You look great!" "There are more fish in the sea!" and "Wallpaper is not that hard to do! You can do it!" Perhaps it's that air of vulnerability - that we all carry around at times - an air that you just need to be told that you.can.do.it. There is a reason I steer clear of things like organized religion and pyramid schemes, because I'm the first to admit  - that I'm very easily convinced. Add to that roster now, avoiding perky young women at the Home Improvement store who tell you that they just did it to their own ceiling and that it took no time at all.


When you're needing help with things like barbecue assembly, or in this case - wallpaper hanging - you should send out an invitation that says something like "Come over and see my new kittens" or "Lobster dinner tonight at the new place!" and rope them in that way, instead of heading off the title of your invite with "Who wants to help me hang wallpaper, on the ceiling!!!!!", because - I can assure you - no one will take the bait. Suddenly people are scared of heights or have a lot of catching up to do with their ex boyfriends or if they're really inventive, they'll say that they're "going to see my brother's new floats on his plane" (you know who you are ;) ). But if you're me, you have one or two fearless girlfriends who will work for wine, and are afraid of nothing. Not a thing. Not even Dr. Handsome and I, attempting to work together. That friend is Allie. Carol comes in a close second - she was willing - but wasn't able.


I began the day before. Scraping and scraping and scraping and scraping the horrible flaking, yellow, dessicated plaster paper that was crumbling before my fingers even reached the ceiling. 


Did I mention that during this time my two littlest ones decided to acquire a terrible gastro-intestinal virus? Yes, they did! However, I wasn't about to let two vomiting and poopy babies get in the way of valuable work time, so with two Pack-and-Play's in tow, I set them up and placed my feverish babies for a long, Gravol induced, double diapered nap in the room next door, and began my work. Hours and hours and hours later, the majority of the ceiling paper was down, the remainder was pasted and repaired enough to prime out with some Kilz, and then proceed with the re-papering the following day. Tuesday.

So there we were. Allie, Dr. Handsome and I, a length of scaffolding and a 12x15' room with 10 ft. ceilings, a large vat of wallpaper adhesive, 6 rolls of wallpaper and positive attitudes all around.

Allie and I smiled and got to work. 

The first thing we did, was throw the positive attitude out the window. Who the hell needs that? I believe it started with the first pffffft that came out of Dr. Handsome's mouth shortly after arriving in the room where Allie and I had begun cutting the first strip of wallpaper.


What a gong show.


Allie and I, up on the scaffolding, wet wallpaper in hand, an unfortunate attempt at making a plumb line across a very non-square room and ceiling, and a whole lot of cussing. With me unrolling and Allie holding it up and smoothing it and Dr. Handsome rolling us across the room on the scaffolding and all of us bickering, it was in our good fortune that the windows remained closed so as not to draw spectators to the sport of what-the-hell-are-they-doing that we were obviously doing so well. 


Mid-roll (about half an hour into the application) Allie reminded us that she was going to soon have to split, to get home to her own little vomiting lovelies, and relieve her husband of his duties. Under the time crunch, we busted our butts and in a total of two and a half hours were able to cover about 1/18th of the ceiling. 


Not too bad for a first time.


Allie was saved by a phone call urging her to come home from her Handsome one, my Dr. Handsome and I were saved by the fence builder arriving just in time to save our relationship from ending before the paste had even dried. 


We packed up our rolls of paper, smoothed a few bubbles, cut a few new lines and washed our hands and called it a day.

*Sarah Richardson is my hero. In no way do I intend to insult her. <3

Day two-ish.

Oh hello House. Hello Keys. 
Hello, hello.


The first phone call after receiving the keys and clicking open the lock, was my lovely girlfriend Carol and she said "Is it as beautiful as your remember it to be?" and yes, yes it is. In fact it's even more beautiful, because when Dr. Handsome and I first did the view, bid and win - we had only seen the house for a total of about fifteen minutes in person. 


Our city is probably one of the last mired in the up and up with respect to the hot housing market and bidding wars on weekends are still happening, fast and fierce. Between Dr. Handsome's work schedule, nap times, sitter availability and open house showings, we had only seen the house once, made a quick decision and with a nod of our collective heads, ended up a few days later, exhausted from a late night bidding war - as home owners.


That was months ago. When the city was buried under a blanket of snow. 


So as quickly as we bought it, so began the ping-pong game of our possession date. Early. Now later. Nope early again. No, later. Then finally the phone rang, it was the lawyers office and the keys(!!!) were ready for pick up. Slinging a baby over each hip, we piled into the truck and drove down and fifteen minutes later, I was headed to the back door of our glorious new (old) house.


And with the key in the lock, one turn and a click, we were in. 


And it was as I remembered it, and even better - because the previous home-owner was kind enough to have it thoroughly cleaned and sparkling (not something I can say about the last few home-owners of the last few houses we've been in. You know who you are. You know i'm looking at you). The wide open deck in the middle of a fairly beautiful yard. A patio. Grand oak trees sprouting brand new spring buds. A small perennial garden beginning to flower. 

We were fortunate enough that the previous home-owner had spent a small fortune of time and money on restoring the previously painted oak woodwork throughout the house, to it's original state.

However, with all upsides, there are downsides. One of them was the scary second floor bedroom that will eventually be transformed into #3's toddler room. 


I can't pin point what it was that made it scary - perhaps the bizarre former cut out in the ceiling or the oddly scented carpeting that ran from wall to wall that smelled something akin to the wet stuff you'd find in the bottom of a garbage can in the corner of a hoarder's garage. Or perhaps it is the slide lock on the bedroom door, perhaps from a previous inhabitant, to keep out people who might interrupt his late night gaming session or the cheap buzzing fluorescent fixture overhead that cast the room in tear inducing glow reminiscent of the lights in a high school gymnasium. 

Regardless, the room sucked. 

As does the Master. 

We knew it sucked when we saw the house, but the suck was amplified once we were in the house and the previous owners's furniture was out, only to reveal the giant crack in the wall behind where his bed had been and the bizarre light fixtures that work only by unscrewing the bulbs. And the ceiling. Oh the ceiling. The sagging, yellowed, plaster ceiling, complete with old cigarette and water stains. Oh ceiling. You're right out of a Baltimore crack den. I have you on my radar. You will be my first target.


The photos are doing none of it justice - from the good and the bad. Because the good is great, but the bad is terrrible. And i'm not even going to get to the floors.


But in between the good and the bad and the very very ugly are things like the wide spanning covered front porch and the gorgeous brand new energy efficient and cost-a-fortune leaded glass windows that we don't even have to bat an eyelash at. 


And so we go, with keys in one hand, a wall paper scraper in the other and a baby on each hip, begins my first attempt at making this house, our home.


<3