A Room Of My Own
(a before shot of my everything room)

This is my room. My sewing room. My writing room. My guru room. My sanctuary. My spy tower. My hide out. My club room. My retreat. Doesn't look like much right now since it's filled from floor to ceiling with crapola. It's seething with paper and fabric and string and patterns and just about everything a person like me deems necessary to survive. I'm going to redefine my definition of necessary very soon.

My last sewing room was orange and I loved it. I love the energy of orange and I still want to have some orange somewhere but I don't think I want it in my new sewing room because the pink and grey carpet would argue with orange. I want no arguments in my sanctuary. Except for the ones that go on in my own head.

As everyone knows, I'm not a fan of carpet in general. I have to admit that I like this one. Very Victorian. And not plush. Plush is just a big trap for hair and dirt and dust and...

Excuse my Howard Hughes moment. This room could be the perfect place to enjoy my delicate constitution and heart palpitations. I'm going to need a fainting couch though. And a lackey to cool me off with giant palm fronds when I get a little over heated from the exertion of complaining about my very mysterious illnesses.

Well, I've got lots of work to do. I need to get that room set up so I can make a coat. I will at last be able to contribute to the New Vintage Wardrobe flickr group because I'm making a coat from a reprinted Vogue pattern. I'll give you a sneak peak soon. It will probably be a while before I get the room painted because I need the coat for my trip.

Hope you all have a great Wednesday!

The Great Carpet Exorcism

Evil Incarnate. See that carpet padding? It's real rubber. Real rubber has a way of sticking to things, has good traction. So if you ever remove a huge piece of carpet and get the bright idea of rolling up the carpet and padding together in one big dirty ball? Don't do it. It's actually a very stupid idea. That wad of synthetic fiber wrapped in real rubber doesn't look all that large in this picture, yet it was almost impossible to budge the few inches we got it moved: from the living room out the front door.

Now, we tend to buy houses from people who go the extra mile with their carpet laying. This is a good thing if you love wall to wall and you like what's in your house when you buy it. Artisan work is a bitch to undo, however, and this carpeting was not only stuck in place with rubber padding and the usual carpet tacking, they also felt it wise to staple the carpet in place about every six inches of the parameter of the room. So not only did the carpet not want to budge because of its excellent traction and the fact that it weighed ten thousand pounds, but we had to be very careful not to impale ourselves on the six hundred staples.

I managed to be VERY careful until we made one final push of the damn uncooperative mound of filth and a staple caught my hand. At first it seemed like a little scrape. I put pressure on it immediately. But when I got to the bathroom I almost passed out when I saw that the injury was a two inch SLICE in my hand. It started bleeding a lot.

This is literally as far as we could get it. Right there in the middle of our path. We never did actually lift this bundle. We managed to get it out of the house by kind of rolling it. Kind of. It would take at least four burly full grown men with huge balls to move this piece of rug.*

Philip worked late into the night. I LOVE IT. I know it's bright. I LOVE THAT IT'S BRIGHT. He still has some areas to paint over where the paint was a little thin. But that's fine. I have to take up all the carpet tacking today. And all the staples. Then I have to clean the floor. Then if I'm very lucky I can borrow Angela's hand buffer and buff the wax finish out. Then tomorrow we can move stuff back in!

By the way, if anyone has a medium sized set of mounted antlers (without the animal head attached) that you don't want anymore-send them my way. I have a project in mind for them.

I was going to go take a shower but I don't want my bandage to get wet. I think I may have to take a bath instead. How luxurious. I never take baths because there doesn't seem to be enough hot water to fill the tub, and the tub itself is too shallow to be really satisfying. However, sometimes you have to overlook the little challenges and just enjoy yourself anyway. This will give me a chance to use some calming bath salts. Ohhh! And I get to play lots of loud music while I work today. All the Halloween tension is just drifting away.



*I had no idea just how dirty that sentence sounded until I just reread it. Oh my. That's really quite raunchy. Sorry. I hope no kids were reading.

Update: Yeah, the tub sucks. It's the original and there's value in that, in a way, for someone. But if it isn't a nice soak then I'll never use it. If a day ever comes when I can afford to, I will replace that tub with a taller one. And a water heater that can handle the burden of producing enough hot water for three people.

Design Studio: progress report

Here's what my studio looked like at 4:47 pm. Most of the things that used to litter the floor have been removed. Now, I don't want you to get too overwhelmed by my talents, but not everyone knows that I am an experienced carpet remover. It's not just that I'm experienced at it...I'm damn good at it. Which is so fortunate since I have not only my studio carpet to remove, but in the very near future I have the living room carpet to remove, and then at some rather hazy time in the future my office carpet must also be removed.

Before I show you the progress I made today, I would like to share a very revealing photo to you. I want you to know what disgusting interesting things lurk around in my house. My menfolk collect peculiar things. Look closely at that garage window sill. I include this picture merely to give you an idea of the scale...

...of this dusty dead vile creature. This is not the first time I have discovered nasty dead things in my house unexpectedly. It's a good thing I don't have any anxieties or anything. Because if I did I might find it extra distressing to be living in the same house with a possum carcass. Now, it's been a long time since I lived freely with roaches, so maybe my memory is a little hazy, but doesn't this look an awful like like a cockroach? If it is, I can't help but wonder if Philip saved this one from our first apartment together in San Francisco.

Here we are then... peeling the oatmeal plush carpet away as though it was light as air and as accommodating as a cloud of cool whip. For most people, negotiating carpet off of the floor and out of the house is a rather burdensome awkward as ass kind of job, but not for me. You know, removing this carpet would have been a mite more satisfying if I got to uncover a beautifully worn hardwood floor.

I think carpet padding is really creepy. I don't like touching it or being near it. But a woman cannot shirk her work. Is it necessary for all carpet padding to be this loud unsavory blue color? Is this to keep us from trying to eat it?

You may not know the history of carpet tacking...originally a medieval torture device it was invented in the 1200's by a very angry wife who needed a way to punish her spouse for bathing more often than is seemly and thus shaming her amongst their more appropriately pungent friends. She invented these narrow strips of nail shot wood to spank him with. Ouch.

No, but seriously, if you have not gotten up close and personal with carpet tacking and tried to remove it without puncturing yourself five hundred times, you are missing out on a real treat of a challenge.

These are the tools I use for this job. See the subflooring I have revealed? On seeing it up close and personal I have decided that no amount of paint is going to really improve it. So I've made an exploratory trip to Lowe's in search of alternatives. The only thing I can both afford and also be capable of installing myself are those sticky backed tiles that Armstrong makes. Yeah, I can tell you right now that I will have those tiles peeling up and curling in no time at all.

As with virtually every house project, removing something in your house reveals the ugly truth. It tells stories about your abode you may not want to hear. Such as the fact that water has gotten into your cozy home and blackened the plywood where the nails have been soaking. Not good. There are watermarks all along the inside of the sliding door.

Here is my mounting pile of carpet tacking. This room is not unlike a mine field at the moment. An unwary child or dog could get very messed up in there.

I'm tired.