Cracker Cabinetry

Got the day off today, which means I should finish the current house project: Fitting a modern refrigerator under cabinetry designed to fit the fridges a la 1961. Which were apparently four inches shorter than today's models. Making this less unpleasant than it might be otherwise, the cabinetry is the original pine installed in '61, with at least three coats of paint on it. All of which had been applied after the hinges were mounted. I hope, in year or two, to use it as bonfire material. Also making it less unpleasant was The Wife reminding me that I own a Sawzall, when I was thinking aloud how long it would take to cut the cabinetry by hand. Given that I'd normally used it to lop off tree limbs and cut pipe, it hadn't occurred to me to use it as a woodworking tool. I now know that a 6" metal cutting blade on a speed setting of 2 out of 10 lets one follow the pencil lines quite nicely, and will take the bottom off a mounted cabinet in less than five minutes. Today's project: Chopping four inches of the cabinet doors, routing the new edge, and moving the lower hinges. If it weren't for the rain coming down, I'd really be irritated I'm doing this instead of riding my bike...... (side note; I think I'd like a set of those targets.)

On To The Next Task

The move from Iowa to North Carolina is done; unfortunately, the planned housing situation suffered unexpected setbacks, leading to a scramble to find a place to live before showing up for work. I now have the contents of my former home spread over four locations in two states, rather than the one house we had planned on. Which has led to some issues:

Where's my motorcycle jacket?

How many days will it take me to convert the piles of boxes and miscellanea in various storage areas into something with at least a degree of order?

How many different spots are the tools in that I'll need when we do get the house?

And most recently, waking me up at 0500 hours for no reason at all, where did the 30-foot ladder that I watched being loaded into the truck, but never saw when we were unloading, disappear to?

Ah, The Weekend

After a work week of assisting the docs in jamming stuff into various anatomical areas (patients, not doctors), it's time to kick back and enjoy. By installing a garage door.

I know how to party.

Ah, The Joys of Home Ownership

A lovely weekend of camping, then home. Home to a small pond in the basement. From not one, but two PVC water valves failing while we were gone. Fortunately, PVC is easy to replace. Unless the jackass who installed it in the first place decides to cement the PVC to the older galvanized pipes. PVC cement will adhere to metal. It adheres so well that the only way to get it out is probably chasing the original metal threads with the appropriate tap. Or you could be lazy like me, and use eight inches of of the old PVC that's glued in. Three hours later, it was mostly fixed, except for the next day's pressure testing. Last time I was billed, I think it was $60/hour labor for plumbing. Given they could probably work twice as fast as I did, that's still probably $90 saved.

Given how much of a pain in the ass plumbing actually is, I can see why they charge so much.

Lessons Learned

In a house over 100 years old, you can measure and calculate angles and distances all you want, but the only way to get a straight line over 48 inches long is using a plumb bob or a laser.

YHGTBKM

Few things are as frustrating as being at the top of a ladder outside a second story window and realizing that one has spray-painted the wrong side of a storm window frame after smacking it into place.

Unless it would be having what must be Forrest Gump's even more challenged cousin continually ignore instructions during a vascular case, resulting in bleeding (occasionally projectile) for hours past when we would normally be done. In fact, I never realized until today that coughing in that obnoxious, white-trash, I-want-to-share-my-phlegm-with-everyone cough could actually launch a jet of blood through a sub-cutaneous tunnel puncture for a distance of nearly two feet. Is there something vague about the instruction "Please hold still"? Because that's why you started bleeding again, and again, and again every time we would get it stopped. Surely that's easier than having three people applying pressure to different parts of your body so most of your blood isn't on the floor?

I'm amazed some people make it past forty.

Time Is Short

The time to head to active duty status is fast approaching, so I'm making the most of my remaining time by........painting storm windows, refinishing walls, and building a closet. Apparently, this is what happens when one becomes a home owner. Why spend time at the range, riding motorcycles, or grilling and drinking beer when you can update areas of the home that haven't been touched since the '70s?

I will stock up on several cases of ammo, and stash away some serious cash for a two-week minimum bike ride when I get back. What's life without enjoying the simple pleasures?

For Today's Relaxation...........

disassembled, tweaked, and reassembled a troublesome ceiling fan, which burned up the morning;

Sanded down the dried joint compound applied to the entry way ceiling, one 2 x 2 foot section at a time perched on a rather old, creaky wooden ladder;

Picked up stuff for more projects out at the local Menards;

Detail cleaned someone else's rifle that was shot well over a year ago and never cleaned.

I remember a time in my 20's when Saturday was the time I'd go out to the range for four or five hours for some leisurely shooting, then some beers out in the backyard while cleaning whatever number of rifles and pistols I'd dirtied that day*. What the hell happened to me?

* Yep, I enjoyed beer while cleaning guns. It's not my problem if some someone else is too thick to completely unload and clear at the range, and then again at home, before breaking down their weapon and popping a bottle. And ammo and cleaning doesn't mix, EVER. Ditto cleaning guns with someone else cleaning theirs; that's asking for trouble all by itself. But then again, I like cigars and riding motorcycles without a helmet in nice weather, so I'm obviously a knuckle-draggin' yahoo with no common sense anyway.

'

It's All Relative

Addressed to me in the parking lot of the local Mega-Lo Market today by an older gentleman:

"I don't believe I've ever seen an air conditioner strapped to a motorcycle before"

Response:

"Once you've seen three Egyptians with three large suitcases riding together on a 125cc through Cairo, it's not that impressive".

(Nope, no picture of those three guys. It's hard to take a good picture at 0200 in the AM at 60 mph, and if I were on the receiving end of a camera flash at night in that situation I'd be seriously pissed off at the guy with camera. Bike picture, however, is one of the many locally owned Egyptian bikes out and about, most of which were about that size. If you owned a 600cc, you were King Stud of the local bike scene.

On My "Day Off"....

I've gotten up early to attend five hours of radiographic continuing education, returned home to construct raised garden beds out of landscape timbers, unloaded and dumped half a pickup bed of compost by hand, loaded twenty bags of pea gravel into the truck also by hand,and read sixty pages of my Information Systems textbook. I think I've had enough relaxation for one day.

Behold, And Tremble: For I Am The Destroyer Of Porcelain

Thursday, I replaced the flapper valve in a toilet because it wouldn't stay open more than a second or two. Turning the shut-off valve disrupted the old, rotted seals, so that water was running out around the vavle stem. This led to a small pond in the bathroom and basement, so I had to shut off the entire house's water supply. Squeezing myself into the six inches of space between the toilet and wall, I unscrewed the old valve, managing to slice off a nice piece of skin via the large burr on the back of the valve I hadn't seen. Now there was blood and water all over the floor. Off to the store, where I bought a new valve, and adaptors for the different size threads. Install the new valve, and test the toilet. The new water line valve, perfect. The new flapper valve, sucks as much as the old one. Yesterday, attempt another new flapper valve. Works pretty good, but it's getting pulled out of alignment by the chain. Attempt to adjust alignment by bending the bar linking toilet handle to the flapper chain; break bar in half. Stop for the day before smashing toilet in frustration. Today, go buy new handle and bar. Attempt to remove nut holding handle on, and strip the nut with closest fitting socket wrench. Move to locking pliers,which starts to move nut....and rest of fixture, fracturing toilet tank. Quit before stroking out. Tomorrow, shop for entire new toilet due to crappy $1.99 part. Hope that floor doesn't collapse or new toilet spontaneously explodes during installation.

Green Technology

Actually, Red Green tech. As I'm taking leave before returning to my regular employer, what could be more relaxing than starting a relatively simple project requested by The Wife (convert a tiny bedroom into a large walk-in closet)? Why, deciding to do a complete tear-down of the entire room, including stripping all wood trim, ripping out the old flooring, and repainting the entire room after repairing the 100+ year old plaster. Unfortunately, heat guns take a long time to work on wood with nearly a 1/16th inch build up of paint, and the follow up sanding is a mess. So by the time I got to the baseboards, it was time to get inventive.

Step one, remove baseboards from walls. As a bonus, find 1/2 of a movie ticket for when admission fees were ninety cents. Reflect on how old this stuff is. Step two, pull the nails without ruining the wood. Step three, haul boards out to garage and fire up this:



and slowly run baseboards one inch in front of heater until latex paint looks like overdone pizza cheese. Step four, use scrapers to make a giant mess in garage where wife can't see or smell it.

Actually worked pretty well, although you have to really watch the wood; it doesn't take long to start thing smoking compared to an electric heatgun.