Sunday, February 19, 2012

Home Improvement

Homeowners uniformly understand the pain of home improvement projects. Sure, they all seem like they'll be great fun, and the house will look so much better afterward, and you'll be increasing the value of your home... then someone loses a hand on a borrowed circular saw, you make three hundred trips to Lowe's and still have the wrong drill bit, and things in general start to go downhill.

I am like most men in that I like to think of myself as a DIYer (that's a "Do It Yourself-er" for the uninitiated).  What I mean is that most men like to think of themselves as someone who can handle most any task, but would rather not actually be bothered with the handling of anything more difficult than changing a light bulb (I currently have at least four burned out in our house, and will get to them when I get to them). DIY sounds great - most guys equate power tools with fire and red meat in terms of thing that elicit primal bliss. But most DIY projects are undertaken less for the masculine joy of the thing, than for the very practical reason that it's a lot cheaper to do it yourself. This  is borne out historically. The very concept of being a DIY homeowner - someone who handles all but the most arduous of home improvement and maintenance tasks themselves - is a relatively new concept. Fifty years ago, it was just called being a homeowner. If you bought a house in the fifties or sixties, it was more or less understood that you had some basic mechanical proficiency and you would be taking care of your home and wouldn't need any damn professionals to fix a leaky pipe or change out a ceiling fan. Much the same with cars "back in the day." Sure, you could take your Chevy to a mechanic, but if it was for anything less than a thrown rod, you handed in your man card with the keys. 

Our society has gotten more specialized, and as a result it is more than acceptable to pay someone whose time you value less than your own to do unpleasant tasks like painting your trim, putting up fences, or de-pooping your backyard if you have pets or free-range children (I kid you not, this service is now being advertised on the radio locally). It has become increasingly quaint to actually do significant manual tasks  around the home yourself. There is a reason for this, as I have recently discovered. "Significant manual task" is just a fancy way of saying "hard damn work." All other things being equal, I'd rather pay someone to do that kind of stuff and spend my free time playing with my kid. Or playing Mario Cart. With my kid. Who is six months old. Shut up. 

Before
Despite this recently acquired insight, the Wife and I, along with a sizable portion of our social circle, have recently completed (mostly) the single most significant home improvement project of our relatively brief home-owning life: we replaced the twenty year old carpet in our downstairs with hardwood flooring. Among other minor projects thrown into the mix just for funsies. The flooring thing has been a long time coming, but the fact that Olivia is getting closer to crawling everyday kind of forced the issue. The carpet was bad, and the fact that Auxiliary Dog had three or four dozen favorite accident spots downstairs did nothing to help matters. So it had to go.



Sans Flooring
We rolled out the padding last Friday night, after the carpet and original pad were taken up. We started the process of putting the flooring into place, but didn't get very far that night. We basically put down four rows of snap-and-lock flooring, just to get the feel for it. We were glad for that the next day. On Saturday we had a group of friends come to pitch in on the heavy lifting. With a few exceptions, actually placing the floating floor boards is a (forgive me) snap. The tongue and groove generally lock together pretty well, and you use a vinyl block and mallet to close the gaps periodically. The hard part is the constant measuring and cutting, which itself isn't so bad, except that the various tasks require you to constantly get up and down, kneel on hard surfaces, and avoid losing digits to a table saw. Over a twelve hour day, this can wear on you. I have always thought I had respect for people who do back-breaking labor for a living. I woke up Sunday sore in places I hadn't known about. Next time I will pay someone and thank him for the privilege. And yet, sore or not, the show must go on.

Thought about keeping the blue motif...
Saturday we nearly finished the installation of the floors, and I thought we were about 90% there with the whole project. We did manage to polish off the floor installation on Sunday in a matter of just a few hours. This, I thought, meant we were nearly done, with nothing left but a few hours of finishing work. Hah. Right. Finishing work is a cute little euphemism for the final 2/3 of any given project. In this case, the finishing work involved the installation of about 200 linear feet of quarter-round (shoe molding, if you prefer) and several floor transitions (thresholds or floor molding - pick you poison). The problem started with the fact that I hadn't bought any of this stuff in advance, assuming that our local home improvement warehouse would have an ample selection of everything we needed. True for the quarter-round. Not so much for the thresholds. See, being the amateur installers that we were, there were several places in our floor where the standard three-inch wide floor moldings offered by Home Depot weren't quite sufficient to cover our "creative solutions" to the more intense installation problems. We needed something wider, and it was nowhere to be found.



Table-sawing by lamplight. Brilliant.



In the meantime was the quarter-round installation. This is relatively straightforward, if a couple of assumptions hold true: (1) you are at least mildly competent with a power saw that can cut at 45 degree angles, or have a hand saw and miter box; (2) your house has straight walls; and (3) you've done everything with your install completely correct up to this point. I'd love to say one out of three ain't bad, but here I'd be lying. Needless to say I needed some guidance on this part of the project, and there was much weeping and gnashing of the teeth when it came to certain cursed corners of our home. While we are generally very happy with our house, it is obvious in a few places that this house was part of a planned development and some of the subs cut corners to move on quickly to the next house. The curved wall in our hallway wasn't all that obvious until we had to work around it. Stupid wall.


I finally found a place that sold thresholds wide enough to cover all of my half-assery. This wonderful establishment had the audacity to hold the inconvenient hours of 9-5, Monday through Friday, and be located near Williams Brice Stadium, thirty-five minutes from my house. This is only relevant because, in my frugality, I bought precisely as much threshold as I needed and promptly ruined the first piece I tried to cut. I nearly killed a friend of mine in the process, but no actual blood was spilled. I think I ended up going to this place three times, all told. And, as I've intimated, we're not really all the way done yet. 

After multiple trips to every hardware store in the midlands, and a full week of working on the "finishing" work, the project is about where I said it was after the first full day of working on it - about 90% done. But this is actually 90% done as opposed to incredibly naive assessment 90% done - the downstairs is usable again, and the floors really do look fantastic. There are more nails to countersink and putty, and one last threshold to go in once the grout sets in the bathroom (one of those other "fun" projects thrown in for good measure). All in all the experience was a good one, though I do believe that weekend projects should never last beyond the weekend in which they begin. But they always do. Stupid projects.
The (more-or-less) finished product

Shortly, Beagle and Auxiliary Dog will come back from their exile to my parents house to a home that is wholly unfamiliar, and provides them with limited traction. This, by itself, should be worth every penny. I'll try and get video.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Super Bowl Edition

In the spirit of ESPN's ten takeaways from last night's game, I've decided to offer up my own short list of takeaways for the common man - the man who, like me, is from somewhere other than Boston or NYC, prefers college football to the overpaid, over-praised divas of the NFL, and didn't really have a dog in the fight last night. This sub-par Bud commercial is for you.

1.  The commercials really seem to be going down hill.

There were a few decent offerings. The Chevy apocalypse commercial was good fun, and the lack of any sense of humor from Ford's corporate office this week only makes the commercial seem more valid. Clint Eastwood for Chrysler was powerful in a whole different way, but the Seinfeld/Leno effort to sell cars was a forced, weak effort, as evidenced by the fact that I cannot now tell you which car company they were shilling for. The E*Trade baby made his customary appearance, which was good for a laugh, but he's getting a little long in the tooth. Time for some younger blood, perhaps.

Mostly though, the commercials were just kind of blah. I'm probably the only person in America not putting the Ferris Bueller car commercial into the elite category, but Broderick just kind of mailed it in (almost as if he called in sick...how meta). The typical beer and Pepsi ads were universally forgettable. Betty White's appearance (regrettably advertising reality television) was at least worth a laugh.

2.  The halftime show was (much) better than I expected.

I heard Madonna was performing and automatically thought "meh." She's not my cup of tea on the best of days, and her best days are behind her. I thought.

I stand corrected. While her music is still not going to top my playlist, Madonna proved to me that she is still a knock-out performer capable to delivering a high quality product. The visuals were amazing, and the quality of the sound and dance was top notch. Apparently there was a "middle finger malfunction" with one of the featured artists - clearly in poor taste, but I missed it. All in all a great show. Anything would have looked good after last year's Black Eyed Peas fiasco, but Madonna took it several notches above the talent we've seen the past several years.

3.  I am not as young as I used to be.

Eating my weight in junk food at a Super Bowl party used to be no problem. Now, like staying up past midnight and trying to work the next day, it's a sure way to wreck myself. Keeping a six month old up for the game and then trying to get a normal night's sleep? Also guaranteed to start your next day off wrong.


4.  The Giants won.

Turns out there was a football game on last night too. This might seem obvious to some, but since the Patriots' receiver corp missed the memo, I thought it was worth reiterating.