This past weekend the heavy work of tearing out the ceilings began.
To recap:
The ceilings are really ugly. Really, really. They are so bad that I was quite turned off by the house on our first look through the place. I just did not want to talk about it when we got home. I am not good at seeing past the superficial. I am a shallow person.
None of my pictures has captured what the ceilings look like, but my sister says it best: the plaster is like a bad icing job on a Cake Wrecks cake. A real dog.
Ok, not grotty looking, just plastery. More like this:
…but do you see the resemblance? So, they are going. Downstairs the ceilings are being ripped out so we can install pot lights in the kitchen and family room, muck with the ducting for the range hood, and move a beam. Then Gary the drywall guy will come in a do a re-do.
First, we got a b i g garbage can for the crud. (Sadly, there would be too much crud for the stuff mover to carry).
Then the people with crowbars and masks came: our friends Doug, Paul, Craig, our son Nelson, daughter *Charlotte, and Chris. (Lest you think I did nothing, I drove to Tim’s and Subway, and took pictures. Very important.) [*not a man, but looks tough dragging drywall around.]
They worked all morning to expose beams and jointy bits, and fill the big green can.
Break time. Told you I got the Tim’s.
One advantage (or disadvantage, depending on how you see it) of this type of work is that you expose truths about your house that you might not have otherwise known. Like Surprise #1:
Discovering the ant condo (now unoccupied) means we need to replace the beam. Good to know. Meet our new friend, Mr. Beam Fabricator.
Swept up and looking pretty:
Surprise #2: There was a strange embellishment in the center of the sewing room ceiling that screamed “I’ve got a secret!”
And it did! Can you see the hangy bit from the upstairs bathroom tub? So hangy it droops into the sewing room? Were you fooled by the decorative plate neatly lined with a garbage bag? Nooo. Paul noticed how nicely the cover channeled condensed water from the pipe towards the ceiling light. Nifty!
Meet our new friends, Mr. Plumber and Mr. Electrician.
And that’s downstairs. Upstairs, Chris began his mini vacation in hell as he scrapes the rough hangy bits off the plaster and then uses some sort of sander on a stick to make it smooth. Meet our new friend, Mr. Chiropractor.
It’s a start, and we are glad to be doing this before the furniture turns up.
Any experiences with adventure plaster you’d care to share?
Okay, maybe I am perverse, but I am sorry I’m not there to help out! I love ripping things apart…and am extremely nosy about what is underneath stuff. Also I could eat doughnuts.
Don’t have any adventure plaster stories, but we learned pretty quickly during a bathroom reno (when it was pink…long time ago) that if it needs to be mudded, get Mr Drywall guy to do it.
Love the cake.
I remember all that lovely pinkness. You now have a room that is such an oasis–I am surprised you actually come out. Do you like the marmoleum? Love to say that…mar mo lee ummm. sounds like a desert you eat off the floor.
Hi Jan,
It looks like you’ve got an exciting project underway. Can’t wait to see the finished results. Hope you don’t find any more of those surprises.
Cheers, Ian.
I do recall an exciting basement reno…that was an impressive piece of work. And your kitchen. and your bathroom. You guys just need to lift the roof to get every card in the reno hand.
Yikes, this reminds me of the adventures I had stripping wallpaper with ‘surprises’ underneath! ha
I took a look at the impressive work you did in removing some very tenacious paper–what a job! Looks like all your experimenting paid off. Thanks for visiting, Sara.