I'll Know It When I See It

A few decades ago, there was a fairly significant U.S. Supreme Court case in which the Justices struggled to define pornography. The closest they could get was Potter Stewart's oft-quoted description: "I know it when I see it." That basically sums up how Shaw and I will know when the house is truly finished.

Last week the garage walls were finished and painted, the new doors went up (and down, and up, and down...), the window was painted and I even installed new blinds. It looks so clean (except for the floor - too cold to do anything now) that we don't even recognize it. But our cars are thrilled, having been banished to the driveway since March. And, after having to clear almost two feet of snow off the cars last week in order to dig them out, so do we.

The 11 feet of counter and cabinets were installed in the basement laundry area last week too, containing four wide drawers that hold all of our gift wrapping supplies in addition to light bulbs, Logan's stuff and other household items. We call it the Candy Spelling Room. Almost all of the punch list items have been resolved. When I showed the list to one of the workers who's done the tiling, some sheetrock and painting, he came over to feel my forehead. "You must be sick," he said, "this list is so short - it can't be you." Tomorrow the crew will return to empty the last remnants from the trailer outside, just a few boxes and other items that will go into the garage. The next item on my to-do list is to find cabinets and shelving for both the garage and the workspace in the storage part of the basement, so we'll actually be able to find things when we want them.

We've decided, though, that we won't feel as if the house is really complete until both the trailer and the porta-potty are gone from the lawn. When we see that, we'll know it.

The Width of a Wheatie Flake

That's how my father used to describe anything that was so close you couldn't see the space between it and the finish line. Which is how I feel about the house.

My dad loved our house and everything we did to it. As this week marks three years since he died, I've been thinking a lot lately about how he'd regard our little project. Provided we didn't tell him how much it cost I think he'd be pretty damned impressed.

We're still almost finished. The basement is more or less set up, except for the cabinets and countertop in the laundry area that are due to be installed this week. Considering it's still mostly an unfinished basement it really does look like an operating room. My study is newly painted and all put back together, and I can even get to my desk.

Which leaves the garage. The old doors were removed last week and the openings covered with plywood, which gives the outside of the house an "Early Katrina" look about it. The ceiling and walls have been sheetrocked, but matching new ceiling rafters to the old - as well as closing in the walls - has apparently been more than a match for the wall guys. Some of the seam lines look like EKG's, and with the new doors scheduled to be installed tomorrow it's a bit of of a race against time. But there's a crew there today so we're keeping our fingers crossed.

The trailer is still on the front lawn, morphing into the slowly melting snow around it. Right now it's holding lots of stuff from the garage so we can't empty it just yet, but we're hopeful there will still be something of a lawn left when they take it away.

At this time three years ago we were in the middle of the window replacement/family room redo project. I remember having over 40 people standing in our family room one late December night for a shivah service, with no sheetrock on the walls and a bare cement floor. We managed; nobody cared. I also remember our wedding by the pool five months later, my mom's 70th and 75th birthday celebrations, Thanksgivings and a photo album full of wonderful gatherings. Our house is a home, no matter what.

But we still want those garage doors.

Mi-Mi-Mi-Miiiii.....

Friday, December 4th. While she hasn't sung quite yet, the fat lady is definitely approaching the microphone. This week, the new cabinet fronts were installed in the dining room (the ones we'd ordered in the first place, that is), the railings along the stairs in the family room and basement were put up, all the hardware was placed on the kitchen cabinets (except the one that still isn't in), Sparky installed all the smoke and carbon monoxide detectors (one keeps yelling "FIRE! FIRE!" and we had to unplug the damn thing until he comes back next week to replace it) and the Spiderman ceiling fan in Shaw's study (if you have to ask...), the carpets and furniture were all cleaned, the table and chairs for the kitchen were delivered, and UV protective film was put on the new windows. The final inspections have been scheduled for next Monday, which means the only actual work left for the contractor is the garage, installing some cabinets in the laundry area of the basement, and painting my study. The rest is up to us, as we still need to unpack and clean an awful lot. But again - she's at the microphone.

I've decided to look at this entire experience as a learning exercise, as I know I've learned quite a bit in terms of how to plan for, manage and live through a major remodeling project. Most of what I've written on these pages has been anecdotal - although all true - yet there are many pearls of wisdom which I would be remiss if I failed to share. So, my final entry - which may or may not be the next one, depending on how the next few weeks go and what befalls us - will be sort of a debriefing memo containing advice and suggestions for anybody contemplating a similar endeavor.

Monday, December 7th - another date that will live in infamy. We passed all of our inspections!

She's clearing her throat, folks.

Ho-Ho-Home

As yet another illusory deadline sails past us like a rotted log floating by during a canoe trip, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas as the new target completion date. Not including the garage, of course (more later). Although, I must admit that in spite of Thanksgiving week consisting of only three work days, an awful lot was accomplished.

On Monday, the plumbers, electricians, carpenters, painters and tile guy were all on site. All of the kitchen appliances and the sink were installed, and the electric outlets and lights were all hooked up. The base molding was finished, the living room and foyer painted along with the basement walls being touched up, and the tile backsplash in the kitchen was grouted and complete. On Tuesday, the family room, kitchen and upstairs hall were all painted and the basement carpeting installed, and on Wednesday the house was cleaned - pretty much - by the contractor's guys who also moved the furniture out of the trailer and back into the living, dining and family rooms. The garage was cleaned out, with all that stuff being moved into the now-almost-empty trailer. I stayed home, and thus began a five-day campaign to get the house looking as livable as possible by the end of the holiday weekend, by arranging furniture, hanging pictures, setting up lamps - whatever.

Also on Wednesday Sparky stopped by to put the recessed light trims in the kitchen and install the bulbs, now that the ceiling had been painted. That night, five of the bulbs in the 11 fixtures popped at various times during the evening. And when Shaw plugged the new TV into one of the electric outlets near the kitchen counter, nothing happened. At all. It wasn't the TV, so clearly there was some sort of electrical problem. As we were going to be out for several hours on Thursday, I called our contractor on Thanksgiving morning with some concern. I told him what was going on and he said he'd call right back. About three minutes later Sparky called and I explained the situation about the popping bulbs and my fear of a possible short-circuit. He told me that it must be a defective batch of bulbs, and said that if there was a short they would all pop and a breaker would trip. Okay, that sounds plausible.

When I told him about the dead outlet, he told me that particular outlet is connected to a GFI across the room (that's one of those rectangular outlets you see in kitchens and bathrooms - anywhere near water - with a little reset button on it). Sparky asked if the GFI's green light was on - I said no. He told me to push the reset button, I did, and the light came on. Then he said we should try the dead outline again, and lo and behold it worked. End of crises. About 30 minutes later the contractor called back to see if everything had been taken care of. And all of this was on Thanksgiving morning. Which is one of the many reasons why, despite the relative lack of speed and some shall we say quirky contractors, we'd use this company again any day.

Now, about that garage. As I've probably mentioned, ours has no interior walls or ceiling - just the framing and exterior sheathing. Apparently that was code back in 1961. We'd included finishing the garage in the original plans, but as we knew the space would be needed for storage and work prep during the bulk of the project, this piece would be left for last. Now that the rest of the house is all but complete I thought we'd start on the garage, but our contractor suggested that we wait until we have the final inspection for the house. This way, the inspectors can give their much sought-after approval, and then we can do the garage work without having any of the problems we ran into with the basement when we were told we needed revised plans from the architect.

Now that's a plan.

Nishtugadocht

My grandmother - a woman of many gifts - had a marvelous way with words, both in English and Yiddish in which she was fluent. The Yiddish language is rather elastic, in that many words can only be loosely translated which gives them great flexibility to be used in a variety of contexts. They can also be used as a noun or a verb or perhaps even an adjective. For instance, the word 'schlep', which roughly means an arduous trek. You can schlep, as in "you want us to schlep all the way to the beach?" or something can be a schlep, such as "it was such a schlep from the car to the beach."

Another popular word is 'kvetch', which involves complaining. One can kvetch, such as "all he does is kvetch about his 401(k)", or else be a kvetch, as in "she is such a kvetch about losing her money." One of my favorite words is 'farbissineh,' meaning a miserable or unhappy person. But, somebody can be a farbissineh (noun), or else have a farbissineh face (adjective).

A word used often by my grandmother was "nishtugadocht," describing a situation or person involving bad luck, or somebody who couldn't get out of their own way - a sad sack, if you will. "He's such a nishtugadocht, breaking his leg like that." Or, upon hearing that an unfortunate event had befallen somebody she knew, exclaiming "oy, nishtugadocht," as if to say 'how unfortunate.' My grandmother would have been the first to agree that our electrician is a real nishtugadocht.

One of the more minor aspects of our remodeling was installing a real doorbell, in place of the wireless type we had that hadn't worked right since we'd moved in. As we planned to relocate and replace the front door - with the walls to be resheetrocked - we had Sparky run a wire from the doorframe down to the basement. Plus another wire to where the chime would go inside of the foyer next to the door. Compared to the virtually complete rewiring of most of the house, this was really small potatoes. And, when the sheetrock was put up they drew the wires through so everything could eventually be hooked up.

Thursday, November 19. Sparky is here to do more of the electrical finish work, including the doorbell, outside button and chime hookup, as well as running a new line for the dryer which he couldn't tell was not powered by gas. Shaw calls me from home to say that Sparky doesn't want to install the recessed doorbell button I'd bought, as he'd have to drill a hole into the doorframe and doesn't know what he'll hit. It's a doorframe, I reply, plus he ran the wire so he knows what's back there. He wants to put in a surface-mount so he won't need to drill. Screw it, I reply, I'll put the damn button in myself. I hang up, and later learn that one of the carpenters overheard this discussion and put the button in for Sparky, thus sparing him the arduous task of drilling an approximately 1/2 inch hole.

Shaw calls back about an hour later to tell me that apparently the wire in the wall to the transformer (which Sparky didn't have with him and Shaw had to run out and buy) had somehow gotten cut in the basement, and a large hole had to be made in the foyer wall in order to run a new connection. Sparky had no idea how this had happened. Everything will be patched, but the walls are really beginning to look like a quilt.

That night I come home to see the extent of the respackled damage. I also note the cabinet light that was installed backwards, along with the motion detector that Sparky had hooked up to a wire I'd already shown him had been cut and needed to be replaced. I guess he'd forgotten - it had only been a week since we'd gone over it.

Later, Sparky calls to ask me if I'd seen a box of circuit breakers, since he thought he'd left them here and needs them for another job. No, they weren't here, I check.

Oy, nishtugadocht.

Boyz and a Hood

Tuesday, November 17. I'm home waiting for the kitchen guys to install the range hood that was finally delivered along with the rest of the wall cabinets in the kitchen. I'm also waiting for the contractor's guys to come and put up the roof-mounted blower for the range hood, along with the ductwork. I'm up early - even though I knew I'd be going in late - so Shaw can get Logan to school and out of the house by 7AM.

Around 9:30 the kitchen guys arrive and begin doing their thing. The range hood cabinet looks worth the wait. An hour later the others get here, and begin digging through the appliance boxes that have been sitting on the kitchen floor for over a month, trying to locate the external blower. All of these appliances had been ordered from the kitchen guy.

After several minutes and lots of mumbling, the contractor guys look glum. They confab with the kitchen guys - who happened to have been here on the day the appliances were delivered - and after trying to avoid speaking with me the truth comes out that the blower is the wrong model.

We all stare at each other. The kitchen guys call their boss, he says he'll call the appliance supplier and call right back. The contractor guys look lost, and finally decide on their own to start hooking up the washer and dryer in the basement until word comes back about the blower. I realize my staying home at this point is totally useless and leave.

About an hour after arriving at the office I call Kitchen Guy, who tells me he sent one of his men to the supplier and the correct blower will be at our house by two o'clock. I ask him if the contractor guys were told so they don't leave out of boredom, and he assures me that his guys are on top of things, However, since they were also the ones "on top" of approving the appliance delivery in the first place I'm not exactly feeling the love. But at least this problem is solved.

Around 3:30 Kitchen Guy calls me. It seems that our contractor is very unhappy that his guys had to sit around "all day waiting" for the right item, and he wants Kitchen Guy's crew to install it. Kitchen Guy tells me he usually charges about $1,500 for this type of installation, and thinks that the contractor never really wanted to install this item in the first place as it's far more involved than the contractor anticipated - making a large hole in the ceiling, running ductwork through the attic, cutting a hole in the roof, installing the blower and making sure it all lines up. He wants me to know there may be a problem here with the contractor. If there is, I reply, it isn't ours, as they need to work this out between them and get our kitchen finished after more than three months. I ask him if he has a crew available to install the blower, and he replies that he really isn't sure when they'll be able to schedule it due to the holiday next week and all his customers who want their kitchens done before Thanksgiving. Not to put too fine a point on it, but, duh.

That night I get home and Shaw shows me that one of the wall cabinets the kitchen guys actually did install is the wrong one.

The next morning I wait home again, so I can review the range hood situation with the contractor. He tells me that he spoke with Kitchen Guy whose boys will do it. When, we don't know. We also find out that the kitchen crew won't be back until the right wall cabinet comes in, and the correct cabinet fronts for the dining room wall. After Thanksgiving. Cancelling ours was obviously a good idea.

And Cecil B. DeMille Said, 'Let There Be Light'

Wednesday, November 11. Sparky is here, because I know I need to be home whenever he's doing any work. Every time I show him a fixture he reacts as if he's never seen one like it before. Now, I'll admit that some of the lights we're putting up aren't exactly off the shelf at Home Depot, but it isn't as if I'm manufacturing these things myself. Wall sconces, undercabinet and in-cabinet lighting, exterior lights - most of them have been ordered on-line from actual lighting companies, so the odds are pretty good they've been purchased by others before me, perhaps even by licensed electricians. And yet each one seems to be a first for Sparky. So it's been agreed by the contractor and me that I should be around as much as possible to show him what to do.

Anyway, today he hooks up the recessed lights in the dining room, installs the electric outlets, and even hooks up the lighting in and under the wall cabinets that are already in place. It's raining when he gets here so it's not looking good for him to install the outside fixtures... even he realizes that water and electricity aren't a good match. Around 1PM, though, the skies clear, I subtly yet hopefully mention that it's now dry outside, and he sends his assistant outside so about an hour later we have five of the outside wall lights put up. Finally, we'll be able to find our way outside at night. And, of course, they look great, but who among us is really surprised?.

More molding goes in, they start tiling the basement floor - which actually makes it look a lot less like a basement, I must admit, and was an excellent idea of Shaw's - and lots and lots and lots and lots of sanding takes place. Our almost 50-year-old walls, faced with sheetrock that's thinner than what they use now, haven't exactly aged all that well. I've become known around here as the "Blue Tape Terror", because every time I notice a flaw in a wall I stick a piece of blue painters tape next to it so they'll notice it needs to be spackled. Of course this makes the house appear to be suffering from a bad case of blue measles, but the point gets across.

Yeah, But Which Year?

The original contract completion date was August 30. From the very beginning our goal was to be able to host Thanksgiving, as we've done every year since we've been in the house. That would have allowed almost three months' leeway. Well, today is November 10 and I'm sitting on a bridge chair in front of a tray table in the family room, on a plywood floor watching a TV that's covered in plastic. In other words, we'll be having turkey at my cousins'.

While the exterior is finished - even the deck, which looks so impressive that the distributor asked our contractor to save him the scraps so he could build an identical sample for his showroom, thank you very much - there's a long, long trail a-windin' before we'll get to see daylight in the inside. The upstairs level is pretty much finished, as the floors are done, Shaw's study was painted, and the only thing left up there is to paint - again - the hallway. The first attempt wasn't so hot, and the walls needed new spackling.

Now moving down a level, the kitchen base cabinets and the countertops are in, the appliances were delivered but now sit where the kitchen table and chairs will go, a few of the wall cabinets are up but the rest can't be installed until the range hood cabinet arrives from backorder, and the walls and ceiling still need to be painted. The dining room base cabinets are in, as are the wall cabinets, but those need to be replaced as the wrong ones were ordered. Plus the room needs to be painted and have the molding installed, as does the living room.

The ground level needs the hardwood floor to be laid in the family room and foyer, and both also need to be painted. The finished room in the basement isn't painted yet or carpeted, and the utility room still doesn't have a floor, doors or the washer and dryer put in. But, on Friday and then again this morning, the contractor told me all of this should be done by next Friday. Perhaps if he dreams of Jeannie.

Once all that work is completed and the house is cleaned (sandblasted is more like it), all the furniture that's being stored in the trailer outside can be moved back in. When the trailer is emptied, whatever is currently in the garage will be moved into it so the walls, ceiling and floor can be installed in the garage. And then we'll be done.

If we'd thought of it earlier, we could have paid for a good part of this little endeavor by running a betting pool for the actual date of completion. In the meantime, we're in month 8 of a five-month project. Thanksgiving 2010 is looking good, though.

The Missing Jinx

It's been a running joke for many years that whenever Shaw and I find something we like for the house - a line of linens, dishes, fabric, a particular furniture model - it gets removed from the market immediately after we buy it. So, adding to or replacing what we have becomes impossible. Well, our kiss of death apparently now extends to entire companies.

About three years ago we had a gas fireplace installed by a local shop. When it came time to choosing tile for the surrounding trim, I wasn't crazy about anything they had available, so the owner directed me to a new tile store located right next door. The selection was amazing, I found what I wanted, and I filed this place away for future reference. When it came time last spring to select the tile for our kitchen and two bathrooms I went back, worked with the owner and made some great choices. Everything but the tile for the backsplash, which we decided we'd choose once the kitchen took shape. In early September I made another visit and found the perfect tile that brings together all the colors in the kitchen. It was ordered, and I was told to expect delivery around October 15th.

Some time during the second week of October Shaw asked whether I had heard when the tile would be in. I called the store, and was greeted by a recording which stated the number had been disconnected or not assigned. Thinking it could be a phone company glitch I tried again the next day - same response. The day after that I drove by the store and saw a new business getting ready to open, with no sign of the tile place. The next few days were spent on-line trying to find the same tile elsewhere which, as the tile is made in Italy and only available through an Italian importer, was not as easy as you'd think. Just as I was about to order it from some place out west, the owner of the store called to tell me that he'd lost his lease, was looking for a new site, but the order had been placed and would be ready in another two weeks. He was now working out of his car.

Meanwhile, in order to build the addition, part of the fence and gate we'd had installed with the pool about four years ago had to be removed. We kept all of the parts, but yesterday the contractor asked us to call the company that had installed it to have them come back and put it in right, at his expense. I found the number, called and left a message. This morning the owner called me to say she'd had to close the company last month, but had a referral who could hopefully help.

At this point we're afraid to hire anybody because we don't want their children to starve.

Faux Is the New Real

Tuesday, October 20th. The kitchen crew returns and installs the rest of the base cabinets, giving the kitchen the shape it will eventually have. The wall cabinets can't go up just yet, because they have to finish spackling around the new bay window, plus it turns out that the built-in range hood is on backorder. Custom is a bitch.


More old siding comes down outside, more spackling goes up throughout the house, and Deck Dude continues to do his thing. The material we chose looks just like teak and needs no care other than an occasional powerwash, with white and cedar-look railing.


Wednesday, October 21st (See? I told you we'd catch up to real-time eventually, and it took only 27 entries). Six trucks are outside by 8AM again - my new favorite sight. First, I go over the placement of the new columns along the front walkway that will replace the aluminum-clad rotten ones. The contractor, his assistant, one of the carpenters and I spend about 20 minutes discussing the most practical way to install them, as they each came in two parts with no instructions or hardware, although they were made exactly to my specs. They're some sort of PVC material and look like craftsman-style wood. Again - custom is a bitch. But finally we arrive at a solution.

The siding guys and I (as well as a translator) discuss some of the trim going up that perfectly matches the imitation cedar shingle siding. We went with a deep taupe-y/brown with white accents that really look sharp. Every other house on the block will turn green with envy - a couple are already green so they'll just turn greener.

More spackling inside, more planning for the next several days, and finally I can leave. But, at this stage I can actually look forward to coming home so I can see each day's progress.

The Mishaps of October

Wednesday, October 14th. The kitchen floor is finished, which means the cabinets - currently filling the dining room - can be installed the next day. A major milestone.


Thursday the 15th. Shaw and I both stay home as we can't wait to see something (anything) other than the bathrooms actually materialize. The kitchen crew arrives and begins installing an entire wall of cabinets, pantries, and we just stare in wonder at our own magnificent taste. Plus, the installers are doing an amazingly good job, and are almost as compulsively detailed as me.


Which is a little more than can be said for some other people who've touched the house. One of the toe-kick vents that will let air come out from under the cabinets is on the wrong side of where the sink will go, which means the duct would vent right under the dishwasher. So, the HVAC guy will have to move the duct, and the tile guy will need to replace a few floor tiles in patching the hole. The line of four recessed lights placed along the back wall are too close to the cabinets, which means the crown molding will cut across the trim rings of the fixtures. Sparky won't be too happy but they'll need to be moved too.


The siding guys have arrived but it's raining. So they don't even bother unloading the truck.

Friday, October 16th. The air duct gets moved, and while the HVAC guys are here they hook up the furnace so there's actually heat in the entire house. Why, that makes it almost habitable. They also set up the new air conditioning unit so we'll be ready for next summer - whoo-hoo! Next week, though, the contractor tells us a lot will be accomplished.

Monday, October 19th. The forecast is clear all week. By 8AM there are seven trucks in front of our house - Sparky, the painter, siding guys, the deck dude, carpenters, clean-up crew - we actually look like a construction site. First, I explain to Sparky where the recessed lights should have been installed in the first place, and then show him the cabinet lighting which apparently he's never seen before - I can never get past the idea that this is his first job. But his assistant starts cutting up the ceiling. Second, the painter and I go over colors, finishes and schedules. Third, the siding guys - one of whom speaks no English and the other very little - climb very scary-looking scaffolds and start pulling off more old siding. Deck dude is always among my favorites - he doesn't speak English either, works alone, never complains, does precise work, and is always drama-free. The carpenters begin installing the bay window in the kitchen wall, the clean-up guys are cleaning up the mess everybody else is making, and since I realize that things can only go downhill from here I decide to take my leave.

A Cardboard Nightstand

There's a scene in The Producers where Max Bialystock, the once-rich and successful theatrical lead, is bemoaning his current state of financial flaccidity. "I used to wear four-hundred-dollar suits!" he wails, "and now look at me - I'm wearing a cardboard belt!" I thought of this the other night as I tried putting a lamp, a clock, a telephone, a tissue box and my glasses on top of a cardboard box that's approximately 12" by 18" next to our bed which is now serving as my nightstand.

It's like this. Since the house already looks like a "Before" picture used by Habitat for Humanity, we thought it made sense to have the wood floors on the bedroom level refinished. You know - mightaswell. That meant emptying all the bedrooms, and the floors of each closet. We've basically been living out of boxes anyway, so no biggie. The problem, though, was where to put everything we were packing up and had to move out. The trailer out front was filled to the max, the attic was off-limits because they're still doing some work up there and need the space, the downstairs rooms will have to be emptied eventually so those floors can be done, the garage is ready to explode, the basement remains under construction. so basically we're running out of options.

Invasion of the pod, people. The only course of action was to rent a POD and put it on the front lawn next to the trailer. Yes, we'd look like a storage yard, but the lawn already looks like it's been strafed by enemy aircraft so on Monday morning, October 12th the POD arrives, and the contractor crew and I move all we can into it and the darn thing actually holds all the stuff we need to put away for a few weeks. Including extraneous furniture, which means everything but our bed. And that brings me to my cardboard nightstand.

It's not just a house, it's an adventure.

More news that Monday is the kitchen floor tile starts going in and looks great. Also, we finally get heat, at least in the bedrooms from the new furnace in the attic. Someday when the other new furnace in the basement gets hooked up we'll have heat in the entire house. As the weather is changing pretty quickly we could use it.

Sheetrock From Shinola

Monday, September 21st. The building inspector having bestowed his benevolent blessing upon the insulation, the sheetrock is installed in the basement, the dining room and kitchen. Rough openings are made around the electric outlets, light boxes, and air vents. This takes a total of four days, as the spackling must be applied in three coats in order to dry properly for sanding. On Friday the crew rests. We're happy, because the rooms are finally beginning to take shape.


That Saturday, Gina and Josh - close friends of ours who have almost completely rebuilt their house over the years - eagerly arrive for a visit, as they're anxious to see the construction in progress. We show them the partially-finished stonework outside, as well as the framing for the deck, the sections of siding that've gone up, the completed bathrooms, our cool new plumbing and heating thingies, the new staircase, walls, and all the other improvements, regardless of the state of completion. While pointing out the details of the kitchen and where everything will go, Josh suddenly asks where the refrigerator will be plugged in. We show him where it's going, and then realize that the outlet which had been installed in the framing had been completely sheetrocked over.

This prompts us to look at the photos Shaw had taken of the framing, at the suggestion of the contractor, so that we would always know where the wires and pipes ran after the house was finished (I wonder why he thought that was important). Anyway, our little investigation disclosed that the sheetrockers (or, sheet-for-brains, as it turns out) also went right over one of the recessed lights in the kitchen. I never expected our electrical fixtures to end up on a milk carton, but we eventually figured out exactly where the missing items were hiding, with Josh's help.

The contractor heard about this latest gaffe and the holes were made where they should have been the next Monday. That week the walls were primed so more and more shape was taking place. The next week most of the molding was installed around the doorways and windows, even in places where molding shouldn't have gone... like behind cabinets. But, whenever we made a correction or comment it was taken care of.

That Friday the power company finally arrived to move the meter to its new location. The job took half the day, during which the power to our entire block was shut off for about an hour while the transformer was changed. If the porta-potty and the trailer on our front lawn hadn't wowed the neighbors, I'm sure this would. The next week all of the exterior stone is completed - now that the electric meter has been moved. And, now that the stone is finally complete, the siding can go up. Some day this may be a house.

Life In the Slow Lane

The kitchen is gone. Our microwave and refrigerator are in the living room, along with lots of paper plates and cups, plasticware, and a large bag of dog food. We have two tray tables and bridge chairs set up in the upstairs study, where we enjoy all of our glamorous in-home microwave and take-out dining al messco.

Everybody I complain to tells me that we should just focus on how beautiful it will be when it's finished, and that all the inconvenience will be worth it. One of my favorite cousins gently reminds me that she and her family underwent a similar major renovation about 12 years ago, with three small children and no kitchen for a month, and that they all managed just fine.

There's nothing more annoying than rational perspective when all you want to do is be pissed.

As August coasted on toward Labor Day, prep work began on the kitchen. We met with Sparky the Electrician to lay out where all of the outlets and recessed lights will go. It's been decided that we want as many outlets along the countertops as possible. We also want the kitchen to be well-lit. Miles and miles and miles of electric wire are threaded throughout the walls and ceiling, and I'm thinking we'll be able to perform microsurgery in the kitchen by the time we're through.

The inspectors give us approval for the rough electric and plumbing. That means they come and look at the blue boxes and other stuff in the framing and say, "Those are some blue boxes" and "Boy, are those pipes." The contractor tells me that once the rough inspections are done we'll be able to just sail along. The next step is to have the framing itself inspected, which occurs a few days before Labor Day weekend. Simple, right?

Not so fast. The building inspector examines the house, likes the new dining room and kitchen, and then checks out the basement. What are those? he asks, pointing to the skeletons of two closets. Closets, replies the contractor. They're not on the plans, he advises, and then tells the contractor that we need revised floor plans before he'll approve the framing. And, without framing approval they can't install the insulation which will also need to be inspected. Without the insulation they can't put up the sheetrock. The contractor tries to explain that they're just closets that we added, nothing structural. Too bad, he's told. So it's back to the architect to get new floor plans.

And so, with the wait for the re-drawn basement plans causing a total stoppage in the interior, and the delays in getting the right stone veneer bringing the exterior work to a screeching halt, the first two and a half weeks in September are completely wasted. If only I could be.

Veneer to Eternity

As part of the exterior changes we decided to have stone veneer placed along the base of front of the house up to the bottom of the windows. Last winter, when we were making all kinds of material selections, the contractor referred me to a supplier in Freehold, telling me the kind of stone to look for. I picked up some sample sections of stone, brought them home, and Shaw and I placed them outside to see which one went best with the pavers we have and the siding I had bought a section of as a sample. This decision was made in early spring.

At the beginning of August, after exact measurements had been taken to see how much stone we'd actually need, the contractor told me that a new product of stone veneer had just come on the market. It seemed that the stuff we'd chosen, which had been state-of-the-art, was in reality cement that was molded to resemble stone and then painted or stained to make it look more authentic. But the new product was actual stone that was cut and made into large mosaic sections, and it was much more durable and not nearly as susceptible to being scratched or chipped. So if we were really smart we'd go with this.

On Saturday August 8th I schlep up to a stone company in Edison with my piece of siding where I find the display our contractor had mentioned, and see a color of stone that would really work. The following Monday I call to tell him the good news and say 'go for it.' He calls me the next day and says 'not so fast'; it seems that the samples I saw aren't carried yet. But, the good news is that there is something similar that just came out and he'll stop off the next night to show us. He does, there's no discernible difference from what I saw in Edison, so we're back on track. He says the supplier told him it would be delivered in about a week.

The next week he tells me the supplier called and is no longer certain when the stone will be in. Meanwhile, the siding has been delivered and is sitting on several pallets on our driveway, but the siding can't be installed until the stone is as the siding is far more flexible and has to be cut around the stone. So there's a bit of time pressure.

That Saturday I stop by the tile place from where we've purchased all our tile, in order to get some samples for the kitchen backsplash. As I'm looking around I suddenly notice a sample cut of stone that looks exactly like what we'd selected and that our contractor is having so much trouble locating. What's that, I ask. Oh, that's something I just got in that's good for inside or out. It's real stone,' the owner replies. How long would it take to get? I ask in excitement. I can have it by this Thursday. I immediately call our contractor and tell him this wonderful news.

Monday morning he calls and tells me that the tile guy called his supplier to place the order, and was told it won't be in until September 10th. It seems his supplier and our contractor's supplier are one and the same, and is an equal opportunity misleader. It also seems that this new product is suddenly the hottest thing since saran wrap, so as soon as somebody gets a delivery it's sold. So, we wait, the siding guys do what little they can that won't be affected by the stone in order to stay busy, and finally on Monday, September 14th the stone is delivered. Yay!

The stone is made in two different colors. They deliver us the other one.

The next several days are spent by me calling the contractor, the stonemason calling the contractor, the siding guys - who don't even speak English - calling the contractor, and the contractor calling the stone supplier. On Thursday September 24th we get the new delivery and it's actually the one we ordered. The next day most of it get installed, and looks so amazing that the wait is almost forgotten. Almost.

Wild Kingdom

When I described the addition as being "closed in", it was because I presumed that walls, roof, floor and windows meant that a room was closed to the elements. Not so much.


I hadn't considered the eaves. You know - the part of the roof that extends out over the walls, forming an overhang. Usually the underside of the eaves is covered with wood or siding, or some other material. Since we hadn't reached the point where the walls would be sided, there was an opening along the entire front and back of the addition where the walls meet the roof. This allowed us to become much closer to nature, as pretty much every type, size and shape of flying (and some crawling) insect had ample opportunity to now share our home. And, since the wall between the living room and the addition had now been opened, they pretty much had the run of the house.

One night, while watching TV in our bedroom - which is also serving these days as family room, study, and breakfast nook - a bug flew by that looked like a Cessna. It landed on the window and after throwing a night table at it we finally brought it down. At least that's what it felt like.

Another evening we heard the sounds of birds chirping. The bedroom windows were closed because we had the air conditioning on, and yet they sounded so close. Walking downstairs and into the dining room I saw two sparrows sitting in the open eaves. Needless to say, the next day the contractor received a rather perturbed telephone call and the eaves were stuffed with something that very day as as soon as the birds left for work.

Monday, August 17th. The entire kitchen is gutted in about thirty minutes, including all the sheetrock from the ceiling, walls, the entire floor down to the plywood, and everything in it. The refrigerator and microwave were moved into the living room, so for the next unforeseeable number of weeks we can at least re-heat food.

In order to minimize the dust (truly an exercise in futility) they contractors tape plastic sheeting that has to be pulled aside over the doorway between the living room and kitchen, at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms and also across the doorway leading up to the kitchen from the family room. Not that we mind, but our dog Logan is going through some major upheaval. First, they removed the steps from the foyer to the living room and blocked that way off. Now, the steps down from the kitchen are suddenly off-limits to him. With the kitchen gone, his food and water are now in the hallway outside our bedroom. And he didn't even have any say in any of this.

Friday, August 19th. Standing in the upstairs hallway I call out to Logan, who's on our bed, that it's time for our walk. He rushes out of the room, down the stairs, and flat-faces right into the plastic sheeting at the bottom of the stairs falling backwards. Even though Shaw and I may at times be suspected of harboring some mild exasperation with the whole project, at least we haven't fallen up the steps.

Upstairs, Downstairs

The good news about my assault on the pipe was that the wall wasn't waterlogged beyond an approximately six-inch radius around the hole. So, we wouldn't need to re-do any of the tile or replace any significant amount of sheetrock. All that was necessary was a patch. The bad news was that because the damage was strictly the result of my own stupidity, I was in no position to be picky about the quality of the spackling. Idiots can't be choosers, or something like that. Anyway, the wall was repaired within a few days, and once the paint dried I managed to install the towel ring without creating any more geysers.

Monday, July 20th. The new staircase for the foyer is delivered. The next day the crew returns to install it, and after angling it several ways they determine it's about two inches short on either side. That would necessitate an awful lot of moulding and caulk, so the more than two hours the stair guy took for measuring was obviously not time well spent. It will be at least another week before new steps can be built.

Tuesday, July 28th. The new steps arrive and they actually fit. We're no longer relegated to the kitchen stairway like the hired help.

Meanwhile, during the same week they start to replace the front door. The old door had two adjoining sidelights, and we'd decided to change this look - shared with every other house in our development - by replacing it with a door and a small window on one side. The crew removes the door unit and discovers that the slab underneath has crumbled. Somebody makes an emergency run to Home Depot for some quick-drying cement so that the floor can be patched in order to support the new door, after breaking up about three feet of the tile on the foyer floor. Quick drying doesn't mean an hour - it's more like four - so for about half a day we could have driven a car right into the foyer. The house resembled a car showroom. But, eventually the floor dries, the framing is completed and the door and window installed. So we have a beautiful pre-finished door, surrounded by raw plywood walls and a partially-broken-tiled foyer floor. But, it's a look.

The next week the dining room windows are delivered and installed the next day. The one in the front is put in about six inches higher than it needs to be, as the stone veneer under the windows along the front of the house needs to be the exact same height across the entire length. So, another day is spent moving the window, but when it's done the addition is now more or less closed in. And, as we thought, the new picture window overlooking the back makes the room.

623 East 68th Street

Saturday, July 18th. We're very happy, because yesterday the contractor sent his crew over to clean both new bathrooms. They are now officially finished and usable, and with a few minor accessories we'll be good to go.

First, we unwrap the new towels that we bought over Memorial Day weekend (this is so exciting!). Next we put out the new trash cans. Then I get my tools - including my new high-tech stud-finder - and install the toilet paper holder and robe hook in the master bathroom, then similar items downstairs. We bought a wall-mounted towel warmer for the master bathroom but the contractor advised us to wait until after we get the final electrical inspection before putting it up. So, the only item left to install before having to get ready for our dinner date with my cousins this evening is the towel ring on the wall downstairs.

We agree on the general location and I run the stud-finder along the wall, making pencil marks where it beeps as it indicates where the wood is located. I drill through the sheetrock but the drill keeps going. Hmmm. Moving the drill a few inches to the right after verifying with the finder I drill again. Right through more sheetrock like a hot knife through butter. Very strange - the stud-finder says the wood is right here. I'll just split the difference and drill between the two holes.

The drill zips through the sheetrock and then slows, so obviously I've found the stud. I keep drilling and WHOOSHHHHHHH! Water immediately starts shooting out of the wall as I've clearly gone through a pipe.

Dropping the drill I yell "Oh, s**t!!!" (which is quite surprising, since my usual word of choice is "f**k"). Quickly trying to shove my finger into the hole, the spray is now diverted and shoots all around the room, out the doorway into the family room and, of course, all over me.

Upstairs, Shaw hears me yell and calls down to find out what's wrong. "Turn off the water main!" I shout back, trying to maneuver my finger into actually accomplishing something. "Where is it?" he yells back, as he runs downstairs and sees the geyser spraying from the wall.

Giving up my "Little Dutch Boy" routine, I realize that even I'm not exactly sure where the main valve is since all of the utilities have been moved. But at least I know the general area.

I start running out of the bathroom into the family room and towards the basement door, but the water has made the tile and the wood floors as slippery as you could imagine water would make porcelain tile and varnished wood. I slide into the sofa, then scramble across and into the door which I open and try to rush down the steps. Painted, they're now as slippery from my wet feet as the floors, so I grab onto the banister and descend the steps as quickly as possible without breaking anything. Like my neck. Running across the (now) slippery basement floor I find where the water main enters the house, right next to the new water heater (it happens to be the latest thing - tankless, just a small box containing heating coils that's mounted on the wall. Very energy efficient. But that's not important right now). Frantically looking around I finally locate the valve and manage to shut the friggin' thing off.

Standing there soaking wet and panting, my first thought is that I have to call my cousins and cancel our dinner as we won't be able to shower (I think orderly). Sloshing back up the steps I find Shaw laying out pretty much every towel we own on the family room and bathroom floors, and then see the waterlogged sheetrock in what had been our beautiful new bathroom. I really feel like crying, but there's already so much water around it would only be superfluous.

Shaw must have seen the look on my face because he is being mercifully silent as he begins the mopping-up process. What do we do now? we ask each other after a few moments of absorbing the calamity. I'll call the contractor, hoping I can reach him at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon.

Thankfully he answers his cell phone. "I'm really sorry to bother you on the weekend," I start out, "but I just did something really stupid." "Nah," he assures me, "you couldn't have." "Well, I'll tell you what I did and you be the judge." I did, and his silence speaks volumes.

"Let me try the plumber and I'll call you right back." I thank him, hang up, and immediately call my cousin to cancel. He's very understanding; he owned a house, too.

About ten minutes later the plumber calls back and says he's at a family party. He'll try to get there later but if he can't he'll come over first thing in the morning. I can't be too picky so I say 'fine.'
About a half hour later he calls back and says he'll be there in twenty minutes. By the time he arrives I'd broken away more of the sheetrock around the hole to determine the extent of the water damage, so he can now see exactly where I committed the fatal stabbing. He takes a small piece of copper, a blowtorch and some solder, and faster than you can say "MacGyver" the pipe is fully healed.

He starts to pack up and looks sheepish. "This isn't part of the job. I have to charge you the emergency rate." Well, we certainly qualify for that. "Not a problem," I say. "How much?" "Eighty five," he replies, almost apologetically. I would have gladly paid much more and thank him profusely. Now all we'll need to do is have the brand-new wall re-built.

And for those of you who may not have gotten the meaning of the title of this entry, it's the address for the fictional home of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. Because that's exactly where I feel I'm living.

Open a New Window

Back in 2006 we replaced all but two of the windows in the house. We didn't do the one in the downstairs bathroom, as Shaw wanted to eventually remove it and put in a door to the patio. We also didn't touch the kitchen window, as we knew we'd redo the kitchen at some point. Since both windows were at the back of the house, it wouldn't be that noticeable in the meantime.

Two windows that we did replace were on the side of the dining room, exactly where the doorway between the kitchen and the addition would now be. Since the beginning of the planning stage for this project we knew that we wanted to re-use these relatively new windows in the back of the new dining room. As time went on I began to realize that the two windows, totaling about five and a half feet in width on an approximately thirteen feet wide wall, really wouldn't give us full advantage of the view of the woods out back. So, we decided that a third window of the exact same size would be placed alongside the other two. They were Andersons, after all, so matching them wouldn't be any problem. This was accounted for in the floor plans as well as the estimate for the materials. Everybody thought it was a great (and practical) idea.

In the week after July 4th, the floor was built over the foundation. In the space of the next two and a half days, the framing goes up, the roof is built and even shingled. It actually looks like a room, once the plywood covers the outer walls. Leaving room for where the windows will go, of course. It's anticipated that the windows should be delivered in a few days so that the addition can then be fully enclosed.

The contractor calls. It seems that in attempting to order the additional window for the back wall, he was told by Anderson that the older units can't be matched. They were Replacements by Anderson, and that division will only sell the windows if they can install them themselves - you can't just go and buy a window. The contractor tells us he'll credit us for the installation, if that's the way we decide to go. Shaw calls the company, and they agree to sell us just the one window as we had been such good customers two years ago. We tell this to the contractor, who agrees this is a good outcome.

The next day he calls back. It turns out that the replacement windows cost about three times as much as a new-construction window, which means that we'll be paying the same amount for a normal double-hung window as we would pay for a large 8-feet-wide picture window, that of course would look so much more attractive than the three double-hungs joined together. It's a bitch having a discerning eye. So, we tell him to go ahead and get the picture window. No problem, except that it's an odd size so it will take about a month. And, even though the front window is a standard size, they need to be ordered per job so the dining room won't be closed in until mid-August.

The original design also called for the kitchen to have a bay window over the sink into which the counter will flow. Once the kitchen guy gives us an exact measurement for the cabinets that will determine the size of the window, we look through the Anderson catalog and find that we can either get one that's too wide or one that's way too narrow - the one we want isn't made. The contractor consults with the architect, it's determined that we have to install extra beams in the basement to support the weight of a larger window, and between the contractor, the architect and Anderson, an acceptable design is created.

Thursday, July 9th. The doors for the master bathroom shower arrive and are ready to be installed. One problem - they made them with the wrong hardware. So, they install the frame and put the glass in temporarily until they can deliver the correct doors. Which means we now have a loaner shower door.

Monday, July 13th. I meet with the wall guy to go over the almost-finished bathrooms. I make lots of pencil marks to indicate where the spackling was missed and he begins to do the repairs.

Tuesday, July 14th. The contractor calls to tell me that Wall Guy can't come back to sand and paint as planned, because he has poison ivy all over his face and his eyes have swollen shut. That explains the original spackling job, I think.

But, But, But...

I think of the entire project as a performance piece, consisting of many individual players. Some days it strikes me as an orchestra, and because I'm so hands-on I envision myself as the conductor. Standing at the podium, baton in one hand, tap tap tap on the music stand. I suddenly point it in the direction of the plumbers, from whom I elicit a growing 'hissss' of blowtorches on pipes. Swiftly turning to the electricians who begin a percussive banging of wire staples as cables are run. Suddenly I swoop towards the carpenters who create a melodious crescendo of buzz-sawing lumber. Then, I face the tile installers who gently tap the flooring into place. All together it should create a flawless concerto as conducted by Bernstein or Fiedler.

Today I feel like Ernie Kovacs leading The Nairobi Trio.

It's Tuesday, July 7th. I've taken the day off because there are several things to oversee. The contractor has brought workers to move the living and dining room furniture into the trailer on the front lawn, and I want to make sure everything is handled carefully.

The plumber is here. All of the shower components have been installed, but it seems the toilets can't go in because nobody thought to measure them and the water lines are about two inches off from where they should be. So, the walls in both bathrooms need to be opened up in order to realign the pipes. The walls will then have to be spackled and painted before the toilets can go in. And, both bathroom sinks need different drains than the ones they came with.

The sprinkler guy arrives to repair the cut lines in the lawn. But, he can't do anything because the water main is turned off so the plumber can move the toilet connections. Without water the sprinkler guy can't test the lines, so he'll have to make another appointment.

The electrician comes to replace the light switch in the master bathroom that shorted out and also finish hooking up the lights in both bathrooms. But, since there isn't enough room in the bathrooms for him to work while the plumbers are there, he has to come back another day too.

The stair guy arrives to measure for the new foyer steps, but he can't get a true measurement until all of the furniture is taken out and that won't be done until the end of the day. So he'll have to reschedule.

The basement is being demolished, but the electrician needs to remove some of the wiring from the old walls before they can be taken down and he's already left for another job.

The HVAC crew comes to move the ductwork in the basement, but that can't be done until the old walls are completely removed.

The contractor starts measuring for the new kitchen window, but realizes he can't get a true measure until the kitchen guys take an exact measurement for the cabinets. And they won't be able to come until the following Monday.

I would stick my head in the oven but the gas has been turned off. This just isn't my day.

June Bugs

On Saturday, June 13th, the excavator arrives to backfill the dirt around the foundation. This means there won't be any more mounds of dirt lying about - just flat dirt. Once everything is levelled out, I notice several sections of cut sprinkler pipe sticking out of the ground. The system had been off for a few weeks, owing to the rain, so we really have no way of knowing whether the cut pipes are the old lines that were relocated, or the new ones. The question is answered when I turn the system on, and suddenly feel as if I'm standing in front of the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Well, at least the sprinkler company knows the way to our house by now.

Monday, June 15th. I call the sprinkler company who can't schedule a repair call for about three weeks. It's not as if the lawn hasn't been getting enough water lately, so there's no real rush. Meanwhile, the slab floor has been poured in the addition, and upstairs the master bathroom has had all of the sheetrock installed. The contractor and I meet to discuss details about the siding, stonework, and thousands of other issues.

Tuesday, June 16th. A doorway has been cut through the existing basement wall into the new area, and covered with a sheet of plywood. But looking at the newly-exposed 48-year-old foundation wall reminds me of Geraldo Rivera opening Al Capone's vault. Hopefully our experience will be more rewarding. Also today the downstairs bathroom window has been removed, and replaced with a door that will provide direct access to the patio and pool without having to walk through the family room. This was a great idea of Shaw's, and the two glass panels at the top of the door will still allow some light into the room.

During the next week and a half, the downstairs bathroom gets sheetrocked, the shower floor is built in the master bathroom, and both bathrooms begin getting tiled. All of the supplies had been sitting and waiting in our garage, except the tile for the downstairs shower wall. That's on backorder.

Monday, June 29th. Shaw and I both have this week off, so of course hardly anything gets accomplished. The plumbing inspector isn't able to schedule the final plumbing inspection, so all of the bathroom fixtures can't be completely installed. But, the steps from the foyer to the living are removed and the opening blocked off from both levels - by a piece of plywood downstairs, and by an intertwined rope barricade from the living room. This will hopefully keep Logan (or anybody else) from doing a swan dive a full story down into the basement. But, through this entire week not much else gets done. I know, Friday's a holiday, but still. Next week should be more productive.

Levels? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Levels

The next day the foundation was set to start in earnest. But it rained. It rained Wednesday, too. And Thursday. On Friday, for variety, it poured. Friday afternoon our contractor calls to tell me the mason would be there on Saturday, and would work the entire weekend to make up for lost time.

Saturday the mason and his crew arrive around Noon (I guess they didn't feel all that compelled to catch up). They lay one row of cinderblocks, measure a lot, stop and talk for a while, and then leave around 2. They don't come back, either that day or the next.

Monday morning the contractor calls and says we have a bit of a "situation." It seems the reason the mason stopped working was because he suddenly discovered the back corner of our house is 1 1/2 inches lower than the front. So that slight slope in the dining room I always sensed wasn't my imagination. Anyway, we have two choices: either make the addition perfectly level and have a small step up from the kitchen into the new dining room, or else slant the addition to match the house.

Two problems with the first option. First, if there is a step out of one doorway but not the other (into the living room) the house will look like an Escher drawing. Second, we happen to have a lot of what I will charitably call klutzy friends and relatives... even a tiny step would be an accident waiting to happen. Option number two seems the most practical, since the slant isn't really all that noticeable. Except to me.

A few questions before we decide. How do we know the original structure won't sink any more? The contractor tells me the height difference isn't from sinking, it's that the house was built crooked. I guess levels weren't in popular use until the '70's. Okay, will the addition sink at all? I ask. No, it is so reinforced it isn't going anywhere. So, if we match it we'll be fine. Then that's what we'll do. I get to make the most interesting decisions by cell phone.

Monday the 8th it rains. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday it's still bloody raining. Finally, there's a slight clearing on Friday so they can actually finish the walls of the foundation. That afternoon the building inspector comes by, looks, and says yup, seems like a foundation to me.

Sewage Happens

The next hurdle before digging the foundation was changing the water meter. A few weeks earlier. the plumber wanted to test one of the water lines in the basement, and to do that he had to shut off the main valve which was connected to the water meter in the basement. While turning the valve the meter broke, the water company was notified and told us that a new meter would have to be installed outside by the front curb - the new technology. Without the meter, the plumber couldn't turn off the water to plumb, and the contractor had spent the past week and a half trying to schedule this work with the water company. Finally, on the day of the gas line, he was told they'd be there the next day - promised, in fact.

The next day of course the water company fails to show up. More irate calls later, and they do the job on Saturday.

Monday June 1. The excavator arrives early in the morning (I'm going in late again) and starts gingerly digging around the side of the house. Like stepping on a frozen lake with one toe so you don't fall through. Sure enough, the sewer line cuts across the target area. But fortunately, the line was about 15 feet away from the house with only a small angled corner that needs to be diverted. A frantic call to the plumber and we're told the line should be relocated by the end of the day. I call Shaw to let him know there's a chance we may need to stay in a hotel that night if the job isn't finished, to which he replies that we can always use the porta-potty if necessary. What about showering in the morning? I ask. What does a shower have to do with a sewer line, he wants to know. I just hope for the best.

Anyway, the work is done that afternoon, so now the gas line, water main, sewer and sprinkler valves have all been relocated away from the digging site. Eventually we'll also have to move the power line, phone and cable wires too. We'd been wondering why no other house in our neighborhood has built an addition on the side where ours is going. Now we know - turns out all of our neighbors are sane.

Jumpin' Jack Flash, It's a Gas Gas Gas

Coming back home after spending a lovely Memorial Day weekend spending lovely money on new furniture and such, we were eagerly looking forward to the scheduled installation of the new gas line and meter. Which gives you a good idea of how exciting our lives had become. Anyway, it was set for Tuesday, May 26th. That day it rained. It rained the next day, too.

On Thursday the 28th, a caravan of four vehicles pulled up in front of the house around 3PM. We had been told they'd be here around 10AM, so I had taken the day off, but apparently our transcontinental pipeline had been delayed - I was shocked, too. Eight workers alight from their trucks, the supervisor comes over to introduce himself to both me and our contractor, gives us a brief explanation as to what will be happening, and then they all break for lunch. Getting out of trucks takes more out of people these days than it used to, I guess.

After their half-hour break, two of the workers begin setting up cones in the street in front of the house. Then, they stand guard, because it turns out their sole purpose is to divert traffic away from the trucks and the work being conducted.

Let me explain a little about our block. It's a cul-de-sac, with 23 houses. The only vehicles on our street are those driven by people who live here, people visiting people who live here, or people delivering things to people who live here. It isn't the Autobahn. So the whole idea of "diverting traffic" gives our neighborhood far too much credit, but I'm just glad we're not paying per worker.

The supervisor asks me if we have a sprinkler system, which we do. That means they can't just backhoe across the lawn - a development with which I am supremely happy, since writing checks to the sprinkler company has lost some of its cachet - but instead they'll have to do something they call "moling." First, they break up a hole in the street, about three feet square, where our gas line branches off the main. Then they dig another hole about the same size further down the street where the new junction will be. A third hole is dug along the front of the house where the meter will be installed, as any new meters must be on the front of the building instead of the side so the gas company can do drive-by meter readings with a laser. Finally, they dig a fourth hole in the middle of the lawn in a straight line between the one near the house and the second hole in the street.

Once they've finished digging, an airhose is connected to one of the trucks, with this Austin Powers-looking probe attached to the end of it along with some plastic tubing, and one guy climbs into the second hole which is about four feet deep. He pushes the probe into the dirt, aims it at the hole in the lawn where the second guy stands, a huge compressor kicks on, and the probe slowly but loudly starts thump-thump-thumping its way under the street, the curb, and the front half of the lawn. About thirty minutes later the point of the probe becomes visible in the hole in the middle of the lawn where Second Guy removes it, then he begins the entire process over again from that hole toward the house. Lo and behold a new gas pipe has been run from the street to the house, and no sprinklers were harmed in the making of this project.

Then, the new meter is attached to the wall (after I convince them to install it as low to the ground as possible and not next to the living room window which they would have done had I not been here to stop them), the old junction is disconnected in the street, the new one connected, the holes filled in, and before you can say "what's that smell?" everything is up and running at about 7:30 that night. We're ready to go. Yup. Ready.

The Cold War

The next evening I come home and notice that the new HVAC unit has been wired into the breaker box in the basement. I also see that the new thermostat has been set. Excited that we finally have air conditioning in the bedrooms where the Good Lord intended it to be, we get ready for bed. It seems a bit warm, but we figure that's due to the break-in period of the new unit. Just to be on the safe side, though, Shaw goes downstairs to lower the temperature on the old unit. Neither of us sleeps very well.


The next morning Sparky comes by to install something he'd forgotten to do the day before (and also install something else that he forgot he'd forgotten, but I digress). Shaw mentions that it seemed a bit warm in the house, to which Sparky replies that he'd shut down the old system the day before. What about the new one? Shaw asks. Oh, that one isn't on yet. Another call to the contractor and we suddenly have two working units. And the cooler bedroom level just might make this worthwhile. But clearly Sparky needs a sitter.


It's now been a little more than two weeks since the first blow was struck (or screw was unhinged, but that really applies to just me) and Shaw and I are both looking extremely forward to spending Memorial Day weekend with friends at their home on Long Island. I'm beginning to show signs of Construction Renovation Aversion Psychosis (CRAP) and, to quote Bette Midler upon getting off a plane in Germany, "My little Jewish heart is screaming, GET ME THE F**K OUT OF HERE!!!" I need to spend some time in a functioning house.

... One Giant Leap For Homeowners

The next Tuesday, May 14th, I wait home again to meet with our contractor and the electrician. He seems like a nice enough guy, but strikes me as a bit of a pechectch. If you don't know what that means, think of Joe Lieberman with a toolbelt. Most of what he says is a little whiny; "We can't do that," or "Why is that here? It has to go." Seldom is heard an encouraging word. Anyway, he and I draw markings on the walls in both bathrooms where new outlets and switches need to go, and I get out of there. Later that afternoon I get an update call from our contractor during which he mentions that the porta-potty has been delivered. Say what? He tells me this will prevent the workers from traipsing through the house to use our bathroom. That sounds very thoughtful, until I pull into the driveway that evening and there on the front lawn - right by the curb - proudly sits a bright green and brown porta-potty looking like a giant Brussel sprout. And just as aromatic. Our neighbors must be thrilled - after this that 40-foot trailer will be a welcome change.

The next few days... nothing. But, we finally begin to get more wiring, framing for the medicine cabinets in both bathrooms, and word from the gas company that the new main AND the meter will be installed on Wednesday the 27th. The Golden Spike at last, because our contractor prudently won't begin excavating for the addition until this situation is resolved. So this is indeed a major milestone.

The electrician - who I refer to as Sparky - slowly adds more wiring, switches, outlets, etc. Sometimes he'll even call during the day to confirm exactly where I want something that we've already discussed. I tell him, he offers reasons why it can't work, we go back and forth, he finally concedes, and then I come home and invariably it isn't where I wanted it. I leave him notes, draw diagrams on the studs - with arrows, yet - and things still end up on different walls. At this point I'm thinking that if I have two choices I'll give him the one I don't really want, as the odds are pretty good it will end up where I wanted it in the first place. But why do I have the feeling that our electrician and I could use some couples' counseling?

That's One Small Step For Man....

Wednesday, May 7th. Still waiting for the gas company to schedule moving the line, our contractor realizes we should change course, not start with the foundation for the addition, and decides to get things moving with some of the interior work. This is the date which will live in infamy. Well, one of them, anyway.

I arrange to go into work late today, so I can meet with the contractor, plumber and HVAC people, in order to go over what we want and exactly where we want it (I'll say it - I'm a little detail-oriented, although some might say 'compulsive'... potato, potahto). The HVAC guy arrives and tells me they'll start installing the new unit for the second zone in the attic in a few minutes. This would be good news indeed, if we'd had any notice and had the chance to empty out the attic of all the stuff that's in their way. Not going into the office at all today, I guess, as the HVAC team and I do a bucket brigade and bring everything down and into the garage - we'll find room somehow. The new zone has to be up and running before they can disconnect the old unit which, of course, is on the side of the house where the new room will be built. But what isn't?

Once the attic is all cleared out, the crew begins installing the new vents and returns in the bedroom and bathroom ceilings. First, one of the guys in the attic steps on a recessed light in a bedroom ceiling, knocking it and a good deal of sheetrock out of where they ought to be. Next, while drilling a hole down from the attic into our bedroom wall for the new thermostat wire, the drill slips and takes a chunk out of the adjoining bathroom wall. Not the bathroom we're gutting, by the way. Oh well, we were thinking of painting it anyway. Then, attempting to install the thermostat in our room they damage the hand-painted wall which cannot be repaired. Fortunately, I find a fairly large thermostat at Home Depot that covers the damaged area, but this is just the first day - who knew we'd hired Lucy and Ethel?

Within the next few days, both bathrooms are completely demolished (the ones which were supposed to be), the new water heater is installed, the HVAC unit moves along swimmingly and more piping spreads out like food dye in water along the basement ceiling and throughout the newly-exposed walls. Switches and pipes begin to appear in the oddest of places, but any time we ask why something has to go in a particular spot we're told "That's code." "The building code requires this," or "we can't put it there, that's not code." All we hear is "code." I start to think that what this really is code for is "we don't give a rat's ass where you want it." The dust throughout the house is getting thick enough to write a novel in. But, my feeling about housecleaning at this point is as long as can still find the dog then the house is habitable.

Wake Me When We Something Happens

Having to spend the month of April eagerly awaiting our new gas line had an upside, as the delay provided us with more time to clean out the basement before any actual work could begin. When we bought the house, we were thrilled with the abundance of storage space - basement, attic, two-car garage, even a good-sized shed. However, in the ensuing eight years, I had closed up my law office, my parents' house of 38 years as well as their apartment, and our abundance of space was no longer. So, after burning out a shredder, outfitting several fundraising garage sales and filling up our garage, we were finally able to see the basement floor which meant the construction crew could too.

Meanwhile, while all of the above was happening (or not), Shaw and I had also been busy making product selections. Cabinets, countertops, tiles, appliances, floors, bathroom fixtures (times two), doors, windows, siding, trim - just name it and we had to pick it. It's one thing cutting pictures out of magazines - quite another having to make the actual decisions. We took lots of field trips and spent many hours on the computer. Pretty soon, things start getting delivered to the house, so whatever space in the garage that hasn't been filled by stuff from the basement now looks like a branch of Lowe's.

Shaw calls me at work one day. "Did you order toilets?" he wants to know. "Yes," I calmly reply, "since we're doing two bathrooms I thought they would be a nice touch. Why do you ask?" "Because they just delivered some and I didn't know where they came from," he tells me. "From me," I reply. From who else, the Good Toilet Fairy? More stuff keeps coming and filling the space where two cars once peacefully co-existed. And one of these days we'll also have to begin cleaning out the attic, as that's where the new HVAC unit will be going. Our contractor advises us that we'll be getting a 40-foot trailer placed alongside the house once the foundation for the addition is built, so that all of the furniture that needs to be moved out can be stored. That should help, and should also thrill our neighbors. Perhaps we can put a rusty car on blocks out there too just to complete the effect.

You Forgot to Say 'May I'

In our optimistic innocence we actually believed that three months would be more than enough time for our contractor to complete the permit process. First, though, we needed permits for plumbing, electrical, building, fire, and a few other matters. Second, referring to it as a "process" isn't really accurate, since that implies that something is actually happening. I suppose some things did, but having one building official decide that whatever another one has approved isn't acceptable, having plan after plan rejected - only to have the first one submitted actually approved after three months, doesn't exactly shout 'good job.' Third, when you apply for any remodeling permits, the town takes that opportunity to make you change everything in your house it wants - even if you're not doing any work in that particular area - so you can bring your 48-year-old house up to 2009 code. For example, we were told that we needed to install wired smoke detectors in each bedroom, even though the addition is on the other side of the house. But we already have a wireless system, we said. But what are we going to do, move the house to another town? We could try to fight this, but they're the ones who issue the permits. So, more wires. But, after weeks of going back and forth - and this with a contractor who knows his way around - we were finally good to go in early March. So we thought.

Because the addition is going on the side of the house where all the utilities come in, we need to move the gas meter. This requires approval from the gas company who, like the town, finds this a terrific opportunity to require us to replace the entire gas line from the street to the house. Apparently, they do this to any homeowner who wants to change anything involving the gas line, whether it's needed or not. The official reason is because the gas lines could crack, which doesn't exactly speak well for all those houses that haven't changed the old lines. But that's their problem. Anyway, the gas company requires us to sign a letter authorizing them to change the line, which seems kind of silly since they're the ones forcing us to do this in the first place. Again, we're stuck - it's not as if we can take our business elsewhere. So we say sure, send us the letter. But, the department that sends the letter won't do it without an order for the work being processed, and the department that processes the work orders won't begin until they have the signed letter. Many irate phone calls from our contractor later, we get the friggin' letter. Humphrey Bogart had an easier time getting letters of transit out of Casablanca.

I must mention here that we were told about having to install a new gas line - which means digging a trench across the entire lawn from the street to the house - exactly one week after we had spent $1,100 having all of the valves for the sprinkler system moved because they were smack in the middle of where the addition would be going. Of course, the pipes for the sprinkler criss-cross the entire property, so now the sprinkler company will most likely have to make another costly trip. Oh well, as Shaw keeps reminding me it's only money. When you have it.

Do Not Try This At Home

We had our wish list. Granted, it was the size of a metropolitan phone book, but at least we knew where we were going. Now we just needed some people to get us there.

When we looked for contractors in the past, we always followed the rules - word-of-mouth, recommendations, get referrals, check with Consumer Affairs, compare bids. And in almost every instance we got screwed, in one way or another. When we contracted for the roof and siding, we were the perfect consumers, even calling people who had used the company. Then, about a month after the job was completed, when I realized we hadn't gotten any extra material from the contractor in case we needed it in the future, I left messages - no reply. Then the phone was shut off. Mail was returned. In short, the contractor vanished. I'm just saying.

This time, we went with our gut. I had been involved in some commercial construction for an organization whose board I was on, and the contractor struck me as a straight-shooting problem solver who did excellent work. And responded when called. I told Shaw about him, he came to the house, and we both felt he was the right match. He was amazed that we knew what we wanted, since many of his clients simply tell him they want their house to be "bigger." Another plus was that he works closely with an architect who I had also met before, because even though I designed the addition and all the details myself, apparently the people who run our town weren't all that impressed by my graph paper or the letters after my name - we needed this to be official. So we gave him our wish list, he took it back to his office and then a few weeks later returned with an estimate.

Once I picked myself up off the floor and was finally able to say the number out loud, he convinced us that we were essentially getting half a new house. In that case the number was right on target. So, after meeting with the architect, we signed on several dotted lines in early December.

The contract called for a start date of around March 30, allowing for permits, and a tentative completion date of August 31. I'm just going to let that information sit out there for a while.

We're In This Deep

Once we committed to the idea of adding on to the house, we came down with a bad case of the "mightaswells." As long as we planned to add a dining room we mightaswell make the basement bigger. While we're at it, we mightaswell finish part of the basement. Since we need to add to the ductwork to get air into the new room, we mightaswell replace the whole system so we can get air conditioning up to the bedrooms where the one zone the house was built with just never could reach. Since the wall between the kitchen and two older bathrooms would be open for the re-construction, we mightaswell re-model those bathrooms too. And, as we'll have to put new siding on the addition anyway, rather than match a color I was never all that crazy to begin with - plus the fact that our new neighbors next door installed the exact same siding on their house thus creating the appearance of a modern-day Kennedy compound - we mightaswell change the siding too.

Then there's the foyer. Ours happens to be on the ground level, with five steps leading up to the living room level. However, it isn't just any run-of-the-mill five steps; they're on an angle, with a large semi-circular landing, and in the space between the steps and the back wall of the foyer is a brick planter. All told, this must have presented quite the image back before color television, but the look hasn't aged well. When we moved in, the planter was covered by a piece of plywood with a bowl of plastic flowers on top. 'Nuff said. We took the plywood off and waterproofed the planter, creating a goldfish pond with water plants and a circulating fountain. My brother took one look at it and wanted to know if he could order without MSG. Then it became a planter with real plants, until our puppy discovered they made great pull toys and how much fun it was to get potting soil all over the foyer and adjoining rooms. Finally, its last incarnation was a rock garden with a free-standing fountain and cactus (the puppy grew into a quick study). Through it all, though, it always looked like June Cleaver should be watering it, so we mightaswell get rid of the whole set-up and start over.

Since we're re-doing the foyer anyway, we mightaswell change the dated front door. And, since our house was built to the highest of 1961 standards, there is no sheetrock in our garage except on the wall adjoining the house. So, we mightaswell finish off the garage since we'll be having so much sheetrocking done anyway. The list kept growing, like a mushroom cloud.

And yes, we did consider moving, for about an hour. But then we remembered why we first fell in love with our house - the neighborhood, woods, location, the feel of it, plus all the work we'd done to make it our own. So, our only goal was to not spend more than we had on buying the house in the first place.

Kitchen Aid

During every foray into suburban renewal - no matter how well it may have turned out - the condition and size of our 1961 split-level kitchen always rankled. It had been built at a time when, according to our neighbor who was an original owner of an identical model, everybody was eating TV dinners. Cabinet and counter space really weren't issues. While it had been mildly updated by the former owners, and we had made some minor improvements, it still wasn't exactly user-friendly. Someday, we kept telling ourselves....

Last year, after listening to my husband who does the cooking complain yet again about having to prepare a holiday dinner under such dire conditions, we decided it was finally time to face the final frontier. But, no matter how many possible configurations we came up with, we were still looking at a 10 by 11 foot kitchen. So, we finally acknowledged the fact that the only solution would be to add on (this could help explain why we hadn't rushed to tackle this project earlier). Not having the room to extend the kitchen directly out back - which others in our development had done - because of the pool, we thought the next best thing would be to add a new dining room along side of the house and incorporate the existing dining room space into a larger and more functional kitchen. Clearly, we were about to enter a new category of home improvement or, as it's known around here, "Extreme Makeover - Homo Edition."

Wide-eyed in Monmouth

Our search for a house began in the fall of 2000. As Shaw was contractually obligated to live within a certain distance from his new job, we drew a circle on a map and focused within. After hooking up with a realtor, I spent the next several weekends looking at houses even I couldn't help; fake beams, foil wallpaper, pretend-stone walls, medieval paneling - the residential equivalents of a faux convertible roof on a sedan. Shaw, not nearly as enamored of the thrill of the chase as I was, instructed me to narrow my choices to three and four and then he would come and look. After yet another weekend spent in vain, I told him there weren't three or four and that he needed to come with me. So, one November day we set off on our search together.

The realtor showed us one place Shaw liked, while I felt the rooms were better suited to Weebles. What about that blue one you showed me a few weeks ago? I asked. It was slightly more than our budget - I was shocked, too - but at least it represented what I had in mind. She called, it was still available, so off we went.

On my second visit it just felt right. Shaw, who had a tough time seeing past the floral tiles in the foyer, gingham curtains, endless carpeting and, my personal favorite, the deer head over the fireplace with a coordinating gun rack made from the hooves, looked around, then at me, and in an incredibly skeptical voice said "Really?!?" "Trust me," I replied. He did, we bargained and before you could say "insolvent" we had bought a house.

After closing in January, we proudly told friends and family that it was in move-in condition, two words that would prove to have all the veracity of Bush's "Mission Accomplished." We immediately painted every room, ripped up the carpeting and re-finished the floors, installed new lighting, doors and railings - all within the first six weeks. Over the next seven years, we also re-made one bathroom, put in new landscaping, a sprinkler system, new roof and siding (courtesy of a hurricane-induced tree across the back of the house), re-did the driveway, had new windows put in, and just to keep things interesting, installed an in-ground pool which required a retaining wall, patio and fence. "Didn't you say the house was in move-in condition when you bought it?" my mother would jokingly ask on occasion. "Sure it was," I'd reply, "for other people."

In the Double Digits

When I was 10, my brother was born and I moved into one of the two upstairs bedrooms. Both half-dormered with angled walls, the other room was a combination guest room/home office for my father. My parents, students of the 'out of sight, out of mind' school, really didn't care what I did with my room. They also didn't think much money should go into it, so the room was basically furnished with hand-me-downs.

I discovered an innate sense of creativity. Whenever I became bored I would rearrange the furniture (a habit that died hard, apparently, as years later somebody I was dating hated getting up in the middle of the night because they never knew where the couch would be). A pair of curtains and matching bedspread were found in the clearance corner at Newberry's. One day, while on a construction site with my dad, I found a half-gallon can of paint in an interesting color that seemed as if it would complement my linens. So I took it when nobody was looking, and painted as many sections of the room as I could until the paint ran out. Who knew I was creating accent walls at age 12?

In college I did what I could to personalize concrete-block dorm rooms and an aging frat house. Paint, salvaged carpet cut into area rugs, artfully arranged furniture - you always knew when you were in my room and my roommates never seemed to mind.

After college I moved back home, where my parents were about to embark on building on a family room and making a few other changes to the house. Being around a lot I was able to oversee the construction, and here for the first time I can publicly admit that I managed to get the original estimate of $12,000 (1982 dollars) up to over $30,000 by the time the work was finished. Again - I should have paid more attention back then.

In 1985 I bought my first co-op, where I discovered the joys of wallpaper, creating built-in bookshelves, even re-facing kitchen cabinets. About 11 years later, my future husband and I moved into a slightly larger apartment where the whole process began again. We even re-did the entire kitchen and bathroom. Then, in 2001, it was time for a bigger canvas, which brings us to The House.

The Foundation

Some autobiographical information will help put the project in perspective. Because, I was clearly born to build something.

When I was about 5, I began taking my parents' LP records out of the sleeves to build houses on our living room floor. I would stand the sleeves on their sides, using the double-sided sleeves - big in the early '60's - as supporting corners, leaning the single sleeves against them for walls. Apparently I was a structural integrity prodigy. I did layouts of the entire house with rooms - nothing too elaborate, just the average designs of a 5-year-old architect. My dad, never quite having gotten over my breaking his original 78 of "Sing, Sing, Sing" as a toddler, wasn't all that happy. My mother was more encouraging.

Around Thanksgiving 1966 my family moved into a new house. Well, new for us - it was actually about 20 years old at the time. An expanded Cape Cod-design, it consisted of several rooms, with none of them large enough to easily arrange furniture in. I occupied the second downstairs bedroom behind my parents'. After living there for a few months, my mother heard of an interior design class being taught at the local adult night school. Thinking this could provide some much-needed ideas, she enrolled and quickly threw herself into the first assignment - the students had to draw scale layouts of their own homes, with tiny scaled cutouts of furniture. She diligently completed the assignment and proudly brought it into class one evening, showing it to the teacher and asking for his advice. After studying it carefully for a few moments, he politely yet firmly replied, "Sell the house." My mother was highly offended. I, at 7, was highly amused. I should have paid more attention.

Four Pieces of Slate

There is a scene toward the end of the film "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House" where Cary Grant, playing the beleaguered title character/new homeowner, receives a bill from the contractor for over $1,200 (in 1947 dollars) for a slate floor. Outraged, he demands to know who ordered this change and why. His wife (Myrna Loy) hasn't a clue. Finally, she admits to having seen four pieces of slate lying unused and asking the contractor if they could be placed in a hallway near the kitchen so she could have an area where she could cut flowers without getting any water on a wood floor. The architect figures out that the contractor probably thought a drain was needed, which meant running a pipe under the floor, installing a new sub-floor so the drain would have a proper slope, cutting through a supporting joist that runs under the hallway, moving a nearby column, patching and re-installing the nearby cabinets, and re-painting the whole surrounding area. All because of four little pieces of slate.

My tale is an updated version of this story, as I try to describe our experiences during what has turned out to be a major renovation of our house. Our four pieces of slate, as it were. I started keeping a journal back in May so the dates of the first several entries won't reflect what happened the date they are entered. But, based on the pace of the work we've seen so far, I'm pretty confident I'll catch up on my backdated entries before the project is finished.