You’ve heard about the naked chef… let me introduce the naked painter.

Me.

Well… ok, not totally naked, but then again, Jamie Oliver wasn’t totally naked either. If he was, I sure missed it.

See, on Sunday I finally gave in and painted a third coat on the one finished wall in the kitchen. It had been niggling at me for days… to do another coat, not to do another coat… I had to do it so I could sleep again.

When I decided to paint I was wearing a nice pair of track pants (ones without paint on them) and one of Wayne’s Tshirts. Given the track pants are one of a fast dwindling supply of non-paint-enhanced clothing in my wardrobe, and the Tshirt didn’t belong to me, I did what any lazy DIY-er in the grip of an urgent need to paint would do.

I stripped down to my undies and got on with it.

Wayne walked through while I was up on a ladder with a brush in my hand and said he liked my outfit.

Today I found splotches of China White on a pair of undies when I hung them on the line.

Eh. No one will see those anyway.

So, you may ask, other than prancing around on ladders semi naked while waving around brushes loaded with paint, how goes the kitchen renovation?

Well. The electrician and Aurora have both been and done their thing. The power meters have been moved to the new box, all wiring has been reconnected and all is well.

We can now get started again.

Handyman will be back this week to put in the new window… and the fun continues.

z

I think I’m heading for a nervous breakdown.

In fact, I think that when the renovation is over, I will have one.

I’ve earned it. I’ve worked hard for it. No one is going to stop me from having one if I want to.

Sheesh.

I know the saying about renovation being up there along with death of a family member for stress factor or relationship breakdown, but I really didn’t think it would be this hard.

I’ve renovated before. In my first house in Melbourne I lived with walls pulled down, tiles laid over holes in the floor, holes in the ceiling and no bathroom/toilet door for over a year. That renovation included extending the bathroom, moving the toilet from the laundry to the bathroom, knocking out 2 walls to create an open plan living room, moving two doors, repainting throughout, building a pergola, putting in air conditioning and polishing floorboards.

Simon and I broke up, but that wasn’t a result of the renovation. We were heading that way before the renovations started.

They didn’t help, mind you…

In Fentonbury I put dado rails in half the house, put in a new bathroom, refreshed the kitchen, added a grooming room by enclosing a porch, polished floorboards, repainted inside and out, ripped out carpet and put in vinyl, replaced a wood heater, and put up new fencing.

I lived through all of that without breaking down, stressing out or feeling like I was overwhelmed.

I have no idea why this is getting to me this time.

Maybe its the feeling of not being in control. Not  knowing where I am with things cause I’m reliant on others… and how nothing can be done without something else being done first.

I was told the electrician was on holidays for a week or two weeks. We finally heard from Aurora and now we have a date… they’re coming on Monday morning sometime. At least I hope its Monday morning. As long as they come on Monday I’ll be happy, no matter what time it is.

I spoke to them, yes the electrician certainly needs to be there during or after so the power can be connected.

I’d left a message with the electrician. He never got back to me. I called him and no, he’s not on holiday till next week… He’ll come on Thursday to move the cables and set it up so that he doesn’t have to be here with Aurora comes, just in case he can’t be here.

sigh…

Why are things so difficult…?

And why didn’t he do that.. oh, like the 15th time he was here????

I just don’t get it.

I give up.

When Wayne asked how long till the kitchen is ready to use I said, “Well… first we need Aurora to move the metre box. And the electrician to move the cables. The window needs to go in next. Then the walls need to be lined. Then the benchtop will go in. Then the sink will be put in and it and the dishwasher can be plumbed. Then we can  use the kitchen cause I can paint around a working kitchen. So lets say it takes 10 days for Aurora to do their thing. And another 2-3 days for Handyman to put in the window and do the walls… and if the bench is ready, he can put that in, another day there… and the plumbing, maybe another day (cause there’s no such thing as quick and easy)… I think the kitchen will be ready to use sometime around Christmas.”

Did I mention Wayne is allergic to change? Add renovation to that now.

You may remember I’ve already started removing carpet in the office. Floorbaords in there and the hallway match the kitchen so they’re next on the list… when I recover from the kitchen.

That job doesn’t worry me though, cause that job I can do myself – I can work at my own pace and won’t be at anyone else’s mercy.

With the added bonus of feeling like I’m finally organising, cleaning, tidying and actually doing something! You know. Getting somewhere. No longer living in limbo…

Well… on Monday morning I was woken by Wayne telling me I had a job to do.

One of the dogs had had diarhea in the office.

I’m sick of cleaning that carpet. I took out a stanley knife, cut the poohed part out and threw it away.

Done.

Its going anyway, right?

I’m so over this.

z

Yes! The cabinets are in. It feels like a huge step forward.

It is a huge step forward really. The cabinets are in place, the handles are on and its looking great.

For the drawers I picked antique style cup pulls like the ones on my old dressers. I bought them on ebay, from England. They were cheaper from there, even with postage.

Incredible.

On the cupboard doors I’m using these pumpkin style knobs I bought on ebay a long time ago. They’re actually cream, not white, and they match the new stove perfectly.

I have just spent the entire day shuffling along on my butt and knees sanding the kitchen floor.

Ok. Not the entire day but a bloody good portion of it.

I tore two #40 grit belts doing just one corner this morning, but they must have just been cheapies. I had to go into town to buy new ones and one of them lasted the rest of the floor. Mind you, they cost twice as much… After the #40 I went over it again with #120, then swept, vacuumed and wiped the dust off the floor before putting on the first coat of varnish cause the tin said ‘make sure floor is clean and free of dust’.

I don’t think this house will ever be free of dust. Ever again.

In fact, I think I’ll be finding dust in things for the next 5 years.

I am not looking forward to cleaning up, but unfortunately that’s what my life has become lately: Move things, clean, move things to somewhere else, clean again.

One day it will all be over. And it’ll be totally worth it!

As you can see, the floor has plenty of ‘character’. That’s what we DIY renovators like to call things which are old, stained, imperfect.

The square ‘patch’ is very visible. There were stains and mucky stuff under the old cabinets but I didn’t worry too much about them as they’ll be covered by the new cabinets. Unfortunately there were a couple of stains which will be visible… No amount of sanding would get rid of them. Probably sump oil or something equally inexplicable.

After all, this is the house where I found sump oil in the garden when I went to plant my hydrangeas.

I can deal with that. Its just more character.

Tomorrow Handyman is coming over to patch the holes he put in the wall when he did the plumbing, I’ll fill holes and hopefully do another coat.

At least that’s the plan.

z

The day started off badly.

The car battery was flat cause someone, not naming names, but it starts with ‘W’ and ends in ‘ayne’, left the hazard lights on all night accidentally.

That was bummer #1.

Wayne put the car on the charger.

So we had to take Eduardo to work. That’s the old grey truck held together by rust spots, dints and black plastic where a back window should be (also thanks to someone, I won’t mention names, locking the keys in).

We were already in the city when I realized I’d left the work keys in the Beast (the newer, prettier, though only a little cleaner, truck).

That was bummer #2.

I realized I’d also left my wallet in the car.

That was bummer #3.

When I finished work I didn’t have my car, my audio book and comfy seat and I didn’t have money to go shopping.

That was bummer #4.

I called Wayne, told him he’d have to catch the bus cause I was going home to sand the floor. We could have dinner out when I picked him up from the bus stop. I booked at a local restaurant.

I made plans on the way… George said the kitchen cabinets are ready to put in this weekend (YAY!) so I needed to get the floor done. If I spent an hour on them tonight, then another hour on them tomorrow I should have most of the sanding done before Thursday.

On Thursday I have two dogs to groom in the morning, I could seal the floor, and even give it a second coat before picking up Wayne in the afternoon.

On Friday afternoon when Handyman arrived to patch all the holes in the plaster I could fill holes in the floor.

Then on Saturday or Sunday George would install the cabinets and I’d organise to have the plumbing and electrics connected after that.

I had such great plans… oh how naive I was…

I came home and the first thing I did was go start the car. I would let it run while I sanded.

The car wasn’t having any of that. It was still flat as a tack.

That was bummer #5.

I called roadside assist. I sanded till he arrived. About 15 minutes worth. He started the car up and recommended I take a long drive. I did. I drove for 40 minutes or so. There goes my sanding time.

That was bummer #6.

I got home, turned the car around, stopped outside the gate ready to go out for dinner, then thought “hmm, better test it” and …

drumroll…

It was still flat.

That was bummer #7.

I rolled it down the drive, threw it into second gear…

Nothing.

I rolled a bit further, tried again…

Nothing.

That was bummer #8.

I stopped just before the gate and called roadside assist again. “I need a new battery”.

The wait would be 45min or so. I called the restaurant and cancelled our reservation.

That was bummer #9.

So much for planning. I don’t know why I bother. I almost always get more done when I fly by the seat of my pants anyway!

The guy arrived to change the battery. $186 with the member discount, money I was not planning to spend on a battery.

That was bummer #10.

The restaurant hadn’t given away our table so we managed to have dinner after all.

The opposite of bummer:

z

Ok, ok, I exaggerate. I started painting the fascia… However, it was high. I’ve always been the ladder girl when it comes to painting – I’d never use one of those extension sticks with a roller. No way. It gives me a crook neck. I use a ladder and put all the strain on my leg muscles.

They are the strongest muscles in the body for good reason. They have to lug me around all day!

So, when doing any painting I’m always the one who gets the job cutting in around the ceiling. And painting the ceiling by climbing up, rolling a bit, getting down, loading up the roller, moving over a tad, climbing up, rolling a bit, getting down… you get the picture.

Its my version of a step class.

Well, this last Sunday had me doing the extreme version of that sport. And cause the only place the ladder could rest was on the aforementioned fascia (the one I was painting), and since there were more steps involved, it was a lot more climbing and a lot less brushing.

I had planned* to have all the white bits on the front of the house railing done. I did all the posts, porch side and garden side, and the inside of the fascia… and then it got hot.

I may have mentioned that I don’t do well in the heat? No?

I’m stubborn. I said I’d do it, I’d planned to do it, so by golly gosh I was going to do it!

I lugged out the ladder (with some help from my brawny half), fought with it to get it level and steady, then gamely climbed up the 323 steps and started painting. I painted about a foot, climbed down, wrestled the ladder over a foot and repeated.

About halfway across the front of the house my calf muscles started to shake.

I would have pushed myself to finish, but the highest bits were yet to come, and … did I mention it was hot?

I was about to make the decision to quit for the day when the decision was made for me… I stepped back from the ladder and right into the bucket of paint.

I now have a few white patches of grass and one white boot.

My failure to finish aside, other things did get done.

The gasfitter came and installed the gas lines. Here’s a pretty photo of our gas connection. We opted to go with smaller gas bottles we own and can fill as needed rather than pay rent on larger ones. You may not notice, but the gasfitter fitted the lines on the unfinished part of the porch enclosure. Handyman was not pleased.

Speaking of Handyman, he did a great job on making a slab for the gas bottles to sit on. And Barney promptly immortalised himself in the fresh concrete.

This is what that area used to look like – the end of the porch was pretty (now enclosed), but the ground sloped down in that spot and there was a broken concrete path that lead into the wall, and gravel. A mess basically. Having the slab there gives us a level area not only for the gas bottles but for my collection of junk decorative garden art.

So, plumbing moved. Gas fitted. Electrics almost done (will they ever be finished? I’m not sure.) Pine lining started. Floor work started.