Thtudnwmtb

I’ve been sick for three weeks and I blame thtudnwmtb.

It was my husband’s idea to buy her and I reluctantly agreed.  However, clearly my brain was vacationing in Mexico that week because I forgot … 1. That he travels all the time.   2. That thtudnwmtb does not go with him.  3. If he’s gone and the house is here defacto thtudnwmtb become completely my problem.

My way to deal with problems is to ignore them.  Thus we’ve been paying two mortgages for several months because why pay just one when you can have a vacation house fifteen minutes away?  Yes, fifteen minutes away is my kids’ dream home that William will run uphill in the middle of the street to get away from and the rest of kids ask weekly when we will sell it so they can stop going over there to work on it.

Today da, da, da, da we rented it.

They gave me the first and last month’s rent and the security deposit in cash!

 …

I’ve decided to officially rename thtudnwmtb It Who Must Not Be Named!

Eventually Finally Made It

When I moved into this house over a year ago I was enthusiastic about painting and removing the wallpaper but that didn't last. The wallpaper proved stubborn and multilayered; and I curse the name of the person who put up the wall paper in this house.

Thus, I’ve been sleeping on mattress on the floor because while the wallpaper was mostly stripped in my room, it wasn’t entirely and it wasn’t painted. And I didn’t want to set up our bed because that would just get in the way of “working” on the room. (And there’s a slight chance that I didn’t want to admit that I’d given up on finishing the room.) And after a while, I didn’t even notice the half pink wall anymore.

I recently started shopping for bedroom sets but I had a difficult time finding one that fit nicely in the room because it isn’t that large. So, I put off that as well, until Thursday. I found a bedroom set that I thought would be ok, although it’s not my dream set.

At this point I have a deadline so I decided the time had come to finish the room. I cleared everything out; and puttied the first wallpaper crease. I then realized that my self-imposed deadline would be moved back and remembered why I’d put off this task for over a year. That’s right, this sucks!

So, I went to lunch with Marcy, then fortified with sushi I began the laborious process of puttying, sanding, priming and painting the trim. And that’s where I am at 11:22pm on Friday night. Tomorrow I’m sure there won’t be any flaws that show up in daylight and I can move right into the painting phase after which I’ll finish sewing Brianne’s Halloween costume for a costume party Saturday night.

Removing Wallpaper is an Advanced Interrogation Technique

Something is drastically wrong with wallpaper when it is easier to remove an actual wall layer than the plastic under layer of the wallpaper. At this point in my career as the owner of a chronically underpaid wall paper removal service, with the only person worse off than me being Marcy as she is neither being paid nor improving her own home and removing wallpaper is taking her away from her Wii Fit, I’m not really sure that I want to stay in this business. It is potentially dangerous. I have felt painful steam burns that smart (both mentally and physically), especially when I caused the burn by doing something stupid.

I finished removing the wallpaper from the dining room and I thought I’d take down the 80s era wallpaper boarder in my bathroom. How long could it take? I asked myself. I foreshadowed myself and didn’t even realize it! Needless to say, that 80s wallpaper has superpowers. Its’ ability to adhere to my wall is epic! I peeled off the colored part but either a plastic/papery part is left curling off the wall or when the wallpaper came off so did a strip from the wall. (Is it horrible to admit I prefer the latter?)

So, to do a sum up of my house: Office: mostly done just touch up painting and a piece of crown molding to put back up – of course, it has remained in the same state for 4 months now. Bedroom: wallpaper removed, three walls painted with horrible smelling lacquer primer that nearly caused me to asphyxiate, one wall a pink and white splotchy mess. Dining room: the wallpaper is removed, but it needs to be painted and patched. Bathroom: kicked my butt.

I think the house is winning.

Wallpaper Answers: The E! True Hollywood Story

Tuesday night someone who previously lived at our house came by and asked to look at it. I said sure even though I have partially stripped wallpaper, partially painted rooms and boxes piled everywhere. I thought that Michelle would take a quick look and be on her way. But no, she was at the house for one and a half hours! I found out a lot about her and her father, his remarriage after her mother’s death. I know she lived in Paris when she was twenty, and where her husband’s parents live (Dallas). She was delighted to see the house and I pumped her for information regarding the wallpaper.

She actually helped choose the wallpaper in the dining room, living room and hallway. She thinks the wallpaper that was put over wallpaper, paint and special wallpaper paper was applied by her father. I asked her if she knew what was under the wallpaper in the dining room. Direct quote: “Knowing my father, it is on top of more wallpaper.” I’m not surprised. But she gave me her father’s home phone, cell phone, address, social security number . . . . I can find him and hurt him. When I am arrested I’ll use the wallpaper defense, throw myself on the mercy of the court and pray that the judge has had experience removing wallpaper.

The Excavation Continues

I’m like an archaeologist who specializes in a brief period of time. I specialize in “wallpaper history deconstruction.” Basically I look at each layer of wall paper I remove and hypothesize over who would put up this particular pattern, first I determine whether the paper had any religious significance. Then if there is no religious significance I hypothesize over the type of person who would willingly put up such ugly wallpaper. Perhaps the person who chose this wallpaper was the one who fell in love with my Formica bathroom cabinet. I name the people that put up the wallpaper. Sometimes they get more than one name; especially the group that wallpapered directly on drywall!

It's exciting to discover how many layers of wallpaper are on my wall. It’s just like unwrapping a present from your special uncle Frank that you know you will need to displace in a place of prominence for at least 2 years. So far I have discovered that on at least three of the walls in my office there were two layers of wallpaper and a special wall paper that you are not suppose to remove because it doesn’t come off. Unfortunately, I tried. And now I have a few “textured” spots on my wall. I took care of it by nearly asphyxiating myself when I painted a special primer on the wall that bonds with paper, then puttying the wall and sanding it with an electric sander. Yeah, I’m pretty handy, but it still looks like crap. When I found that same paper on three of the walls in my bedroom based on my expert opinion as a wallpaper history deconstructionist I knew that the peoples who occupied this house during a previous period of time had a pretty serious secret they wanted to keep hidden. And because I respected them I didn’t try to remove that paper. I went native and left the layers unexcavated.

Driven to Extremes

One of my friends once told me while she was in the midst of construction that she would literally walk down the street naked if it would help her house get finished sooner. I am almost to that point with my wallpaper. Although, I can’t imagine how doing that would help get the wallpaper off my walls. Unless, hoards of neighbors seeing my naked body run into my house screaming, “My eyes! My eyes!” And they start frantically removing the wallpaper in exchange for me putting on clothing.

Checking In

My dad is still calling me everyday. Either he’s worried that now I’m going mental because I’m trying to unpack and my four little slaves aren’t very helpful; or he’s concerned that my house is trying to drive us out. I’ve made up with my house (I think). I possibility, might have caused or imagined some of the problems; or perhaps, it was satisfied with the blood offering from my husband. If I had known that all it took was a little blood, I would have slit a vein the first day! But if that’s what it takes there’s enough routine bleeding with four kids that the house should be fine for years.

I freaked out my dad

The 911 post I wrote had him worried. He tried calling my cell and the home number but people like to chat with me on the day I’m moving (because apparently I don’t have enough to do) so I was in the backyard with Bri’s friend’s dad who was picking up his daughter. When I answered the phone the next time my dad called he said, “It was the house wasn’t it?”

“What?” I asked.

“The house hurt your husband, right?”

“Yes.”

I’ve convinced my dad the house is angry at us. He advised me to start threatening it with bodily harm it anything else breaks. I don’t think my dad realizes the amount of damage my children and I can inflict on the house in normal living conditions. Threatening it with more damage might cause it to have convulsions or a nervous breakdown. We would probably have to commit it to a mental hospital for evaluation. That would mean a longer commute for my husband and I’d have to change bus routes again so I think we will have to come to some sort of understanding. Perhaps it will feel better when I put away some of the boxes cluttering it up.

I think my dad is really worried because he figures if it came down to the house and me -- the house would win.

Sometimes my sheer brilliance astounds me!

The one bathroom in my house that lives on in all it’s 70s glory is memorable. It has a peachish sink, tub and toilet. Which is set off by the speckled tannish tiles that go halfway up the wall around the bathroom; but perhaps the crowning jewel of the room is the Formica cabinet and built in makeup table. You might have been unaware that sink cabinets could be make out of Formica. I know I was. But the cabinet’s and makeup table’s glossy white, silver and gold marbleized looking surfaces call to me. I won’t tell you what they say because it’s private. (And my sister wants me to keep this blog rated PG.) I imagine in a different life I would sit at the table and beautify myself. But that image belongs in the same life where I imagine Will would not break perfume bottles or rub all the lotion on himself or line up all the makeup.

Above the sink in the wall tiles, there is a soap holder, a mini cup dispenser, and a toothbrush holder. Lizzy’s toothbrush got stuck. She asked for help. I tried to pull it out. I couldn’t. I tried to loosen it with dishwashing soap. That didn’t work either. Then I had the most brilliant idea in the world and I tried to hammer the toothbrush out of the holder. I broke the toothbrush holder off the wall. Now the wall is missing a tile. But even hammering it didn’t work! The toothbrush is still stuck in the holder only it’s not on the wall. Is that progress? I would have tried my electric knife only it was still on the moving van. Lizzy thought it was funny that her toothbrush was still stuck.

I really am the cool mom, but perhaps I shouldn’t be left alone with the house.

My House is Either Accident Prone or Quite Upset with Me!

It seems like one thing or another has gone wrong with this house since we’ve moved in. There is a huge broken branch on my neighbor’s tree dangling precariously over the wires connected to my house. (I foresee either a $1,000 bill in my future or a bad relationship with my next door neighbor.) There’s a row of four lights in my kitchen, two stopped working two days ago. The bathtub faucet, well, you already know about that. Half of my outlets in any given room do not work. I didn’t notice that the bedrooms, the office and living room lacked overhead lighting. One would think that with four phone plugs in a room I could find one that worked. No. You saw that coming didn’t you? And now my microwave stopped working.

Maybe with time our relationship will improve. Maybe the house is overwhelmed by the number of children that will be living here. Maybe it’s lonely for the old family. Maybe it’s scared. I hope it’s that! Fear I can work with.

It Worked Two Days Ago!

I thought it would only take a couple of hours to clean my apartment and turn in the keys. We still had some stuff to move out so we were there until 1:30pm. It was unbelievable. By the end we were down to the weird, awkward stuff that you wonder if you should really keep moving from house to house. But we thought, “Hey, we moved it 2,400 miles, why get rid of it now?” We ran out of space in the trailer so we abandoned one mattress set by the garbage cans.

I had to drive back twice to pick up the kids from their bus stops. I got to the house and I didn’t know where anything was. I looked for a half hour for the box labeled really important bathroom stuff. I called my husband in frustration. The punk had hidden it in the bathroom!

My husband left for his six hour drive to Delaware and I tried to put things away. I was in the kitchen trying to find something to eat. Bri yelled, “Mom, Will’s poopy!” Jake had used the last of the toilet paper and poor Will didn’t know what to do. I put him in the shower. The water didn’t work. What?! Will had a bath in this very bathtub just a couple of days before. WHY DIDN’T IT WORK? Was it leaking? Was my house going to fall apart? Did I need to call the plumber? Is this a sign that I should not have bought this house? I put Will in my shower and left to find a towel. The only one I could find was a beach towel. I dried him off and he ran back to the other toilet. Ahhhhh. I yell for Bri to find me cleaning supplies. The kids tell me the downstairs toilet is plugged. In the midst of this my friend Marcy calls. She sends her husband over. Poor Tom, he thought that I would stop taking over his life once we moved out of the apartment. Yes, the part where I do my laundry at your house is over. But now it’s worse! My husband travels during the week, Marcy likes me and you have skills. It’s like having a second wife without any benefits.