The Money Pit

You may want to get your affairs in order. Rush and I made great progress on The Money Pit this weekend, and I’m pretty sure we are beginning to witness signs of the apocalypse.

Finished shower tile. All grouted!

Completed floor tile at entry to master bath

Sign #1: I finished the wall tile in the master bath. I estimate that anyone within a 50-mile radius heard my WOO-HOO at approximately 7:20 p.m. on Saturday night. It gave me such a strong feeling of accomplishment that I actually teared up a little. Then on Sunday Rush put up the shower doors, so all that remains is to set the toilet and sink and then I can grout the small patch of floor near the door.

Sign #2: Thanks to the Kitchen Fairy (a.k.a. our close friend Barbara), we now have a real refrigerator that will hold more than a couple beers and a leftover taco. Rush got the sink in last week, which means we’re only one dishwasher shy of a fully functional kitchen. Thanks, Butch, for helping Rush get the fridge in the house and hooked up! And Barbara, you’re the BEST!!!

Sign #3: This week while Rush gets the bathroom fixtures in, I’ll be finishing up the master bedroom—spray painting the ceiling fan and getting the floor mopped and shined so we can set up the sleigh bed.

And then …

Wait for it …

Wait for it …

Wait for it …

WE CAN LIVE IN THE MONEY PIT!!!!! So if you’re planning an end-of-life religious conversion or you need to tell someone that you’re sorry or that you love them, I would err on the side of caution and do it soon …

Many things make me crazy: wars, broken economies, healthcare woes. But the things that make me the most crazy—I mean, blood-pressure-off-the-charts, face-flushing, growl-in-frustration, double-vision crazy—are so petty, so inconsequential, I’m embarrassed to admit them in this semi-public venue. But here goes: hunting misplaced keys, leaving late for a trip, and grouting.

Grouting, if you’ve never experienced it, is a race against the clock. Grout comes from the store in powder form, and once you add water, the clock starts ticking. Gradually the mixture turns to cement, although not gradually enough for my type-A, control-freak, can’t-believe-she-hasn’t-had-a-coronary-yet personality.

To start, you smoosh (a very technical grouting term you can now use to impress your friends) the grout all over the tiles to get it into the crevices between. That’s the fun part. But then comes the process of removing any excess grout. Should be easy enough, right?

Wax on, wax off.

Oh, but no, Grasshopper. You must wipe without using too much water, never use vertical or horizontal movements—only diagonal, don’t remove too much grout from the intended grout lines, and you must never, ever, under any circumstances, stop rinsing your sponge.

My perfectionist tendencies kick into high gear at this point. The sponge is always too wet and is never clean enough. Every line has too much or too little grout. And all the while the clock is ticking and the grout is cementing and the haze is sticking to the tiles and the grout in the bucket is getting too dry and the water is getting too dirty to clean the sponges and …

My head spins like the chick from Exorcist, I turn colors and speak in fluent grunt like the Hulk (although I turn red, not green) and I stomp around the room with more force than Godzilla, himself, could muster. It ain’t pretty.

As part of my personal growth toward self-actualization, I am working to minimize these over-the-top reactions to seemingly innocuous situations. And this weekend, while grouting the master bath, I finally found my Zen.

I can now grout peacefully, humming happily to music, chatting with Rush, and even taking little mishaps in stride—all without popping a single pill.

Of course there is a down side: It may be circa 2052 before we get to take a shower at Munro. You see, I have to work in ridiculously small sections, taking my time to apply the grout at my leisure and wiping as many times as it takes to get it just right. Given two hours, I can grout an area of approximately three square feet. The bathroom may never be finished, but at least I won’t blow an artery or hurt innocent bystanders in the process.

Bill Bixby and my therapist would be so proud.

Remember when Rush was so frustrated with the subs, and I was worried he might kick the sheetrock guy to the curb? Well, he’s even more frustrated with the drywall itself.

First I have to brag. Rush has gotten so much done lately—finished the laundry demo, put in new supports and subfloor, framed a wall with a pocket door and transom for the half bath, moved some switches/outlets, put in a fan/light and has begun the process of putting up sheetrock in that area.

But he’s miserable.

First of all, to use his words, it’s been “hotter than 400 hells” lately, and since there is no ductwork for the AC, we have only box fans to fight the heat, akin to tossing a thimble of water on a raging forest fire.

But even worse than the heat is Rush’s disdain for drywall. I went over to help him hang a piece on the ceiling one morning, and it wasn’t long before the ill-fitting sheet went flying out the back door to its demise, a string of curse words close in tow.

Since then, he works only on small sections at a time and quits to do something else whenever he feels his blood pressure rise. Drywall sheets across the Valley are resting much easier these days.

Thinset, if you’ve been keeping score, became my nemesis this week. But I am pleased to report that the rivalry was put to rest last night.

I mixed up a batch to start tiling one of the shower walls, and rather than mixing to peanut butter consistency as I had been advised, I went slightly looser, closer to brownie batter. It was perfect. Went on the walls much like the mastic, and the tiles adhered beautifully.

Of course now that I have asserted this triumph, I’ll go in tonight and the tiles will be in a heap on the floor, but for the moment, I’m savoring the sweet taste of victory … mmmm … wish I were savoring the sweet taste of brownies …

After this house is done, maybe I’ll start watching less HGTV and more Food Network!