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.