Reno Adventure

I won't be crying that it's over

2008-08-29T16:55:00.000-07:00

I've been very naughty because we actually sold the house three weeks after it was listed but the sale process was such that counting chickens would have been a bad idea. I mean, a $2k deposit? Even *I* would walk away from that.

But now that the cheque has cleared and the pretty money is in the bank ---
YAY!! YAY!! dancing and clinking of champagne glasses, hollering and high fiving.

It's over!! That house is now for someone new to love and enjoy :-)

THANK GOD!!!!
No really, thank you God.

Day 3 months. It's finished, complete, DONE!

2008-06-14T02:14:00.000-07:00

Happy happy joy joy.
The six weeks that turned into three months is finally well and truly over. The house looks beautiful. Tony stayed for an extra almost three weeks while I came back to Melbourne and started work (with initial teething problems). Battling the flu and other icky illnesses, he soldiered on until finally, FINALLY we called our real estate agent of choice, the lovely Leesa, in to take over.
What? someone else takes over?
Yes, it is a dream come true that we don't have to sell this blasted thing ourselves. I know, I know, the world says horrible things about real estate agents, but I think Leesa is a princess among women. I think I knew she was The One when she was walked through the house muttering to herself. Things like 'oh, here's the heart of the house. This is where a family can come together at the end of the day.' I'm like 'YEAH! That's exactly what I would've thought if I had an ounce of brain cell left. And she offered all the right things as incentives, and was so keen that in the end the choice was easy. I just know she's going to sell it just like I would (if i had the beforementioned braincell). So we'll see how it goes. And as I keep reminding Tony - we have to let it go now.
BACK SLOWLY AWAY FROM THE RENOVATION!!

A few little words of thanks to some people who may not realise what angels they are. Leonie, for sending down chocolate at regular intervals and always being an ear to whine to. Robert for previously mentioned priceless help at the exact time we needed it most. Freya, for the countess blessings in my mail box and also for coming down when she obviously saw the horrid pictures of me and knew I needed saving, the guys at Blue in Inveresk for the wonderful coffee. The Muffin, for providing my husband with eye candy when I was looking so woefully unappealing. Adam and chiropractor for those adjustments that can only be termed as euphoric. Boris for being not only the handiest man around but one of the most generous. Marie for giving Boris muffins and chocolate for his morning tea (and thereby us). Jill for sending me down new release books. And definitely everyone who left us messages right here on these pages. It was great to know you were all checking up on us and our progress (or lack thereof).

xxxxooooo

Rob

Here are some before and after shots for the sake of closure. Hopefully you can figure out what is what because the blogger picture thing is causing me grief.

Bathroom:

Day 64 - in which we are so over it we want to cry

2008-05-13T00:40:00.000-07:00

And in fact tears have been shed. I have now done the boo-hoo-hoo tour of Lonny, where you drive around crying until you can cry no more. Extra points if a truckie looks down at you with sympathy. Triple points if you can manage a snot bubble. Unfortunately I'm just not that talented, but I did give it my best effort, and pride myself on the delusion that Tony had no idea I'd been crying.

Tony hasn't cried, but this is obviously because he is made of sterner stuff. He just swears a lot, and sends me down to the bottlo for more wine. Then suddenly the wine is GONE.

Either method is an effective stress release for the renovation that refuses to end.

In an additional measure for stress relief , we took ourselves down to the Basin Cafe. This was the view from our table.

But I don't remember it because I was busy with these pancakes. What pancakes? you might ask, and fairly so, because the poor fluffy darlings were buried under what must be 500 grams of blue berries.
Later, we wondered why people were looking at us like we had two heads (ironic), until we smiled at each other and saw we had blue lips, teeth and tongues.

But we are SO close (i feel like i've been saying that for a month, so you really shouldn't trust me). So close that I can almost hear the 'For Sale' sign being banged up out the front. So close that I can smell the musty odour of the Spirit of Tasmania. And I could say that I can almost taste the food from my new oven, but that would be a *lie* because the oven is installed and I really can, finally, cook. And thank God, because I think I've put on two kilos in two weeks. If anyone's looking for the spare tyre they were sure was in the boot of their car - panic not - I have stashed it around my waist. Keeping it nice and safe for you.

So, to update and stop boring your pants off:

Bathroom - tiling the wall is about 70% done and Boris is doing an amazing job. He sings while he works which I find very amusing. It's always songs like 'going to the chapel and we're, gonna get maaaarrried.' They say Italians are good tilers, but I say you can't beat a good German for getting it exactly right. See that bath in the bottom right hand corner? It's not hooked up to water yet, but that doesn't stop me plonking myself in it every single night. I have to use my stock pot to fill it up, but it's so worth it. I sit there in the dark, just me and my flannel, trying to remember what my life was like before we started renovating. Did i have one? Not sure.

Kitchen - waiting on the benchtop. Yesterday the sparkys came and hooked it all up, much to my Snoopy-dancing joy.

House - exterior painting done. Currently painting the shed which is proving to be a pain in my expanded posterior. If I'd realised all those ridges in the iron meant painting by brush, I would have left the bleeding thing au natural and to hell with the consequences. There's rain on the way this week so we're making the most of the sunshine while we can and then we'll finish up inside. At the moment we can't start painting until nearly 11 am because of the dew that sets in overnight, and by 4 30 it's pretty much all over because it gets too damp in the air.

House - interior - currently doing small finish up jobs. Replacement skirting boards have gone in where we pulled them off. A new window has been made for the kitchen, the sliding doors have been installed including a cavity door for the bathroom. Half the down lights are up and the sparky's are coming back next week to finish off all their jobs. Still have to do another coat around some of the windows. Still have to put up the blinds but they are all here waiting for the rainy days.
More soon when I post the goodness that is the revamped BBQ area.
Bet you can't wait!!

Unless, of course, you're as over this as I am. Renovating!! Who's idea was this???

It was mine? Urrggggg.

Tony (prince of men) has just told me that he's stock-potted a bath for me, so i'm off before the water gets cold.

Day 55 - Kitten de jour

2008-05-03T01:58:00.000-07:00

Obviously the word is getting around that our place is the place to be if you're a very cute cat.
Walked into the front bedroom to find this:

STOWAWAY!!

That soon turned into this because as we know, cats are curious:

That soon turned into this because Schweitz is a soft touch.

Pushka was not happy when he came to call later on. There was some cat spatting and the kitten chased poor Pushka away. hey guys, there's enough pats here for both of you!

We thought he was asleep but the industrial strength purring gave him away.

Things grooving along again today, with the boys installing the kitchen and me doing that thing I do so well (watching).

Day 52 - in which we start to get excited.

2008-05-01T02:08:00.000-07:00

Oh it's starting to look good! It actually looks more like a house and less like a hovel. We did work hard today. I think it has something to do with the Schweitz saying "come on! finish that coffee and let's get started!'

So let *me* get started on some updates:

1. The dipped doors are pretty!! And who knew, but they perfectly match the floor boards. Must be something to do with the fact they were, um, MADE to match the floorboards, you doofus, Robyn.

2. The garden has grass and looks like a garden rather than a giant kitty litter tray.

3. The entry looks good too. The left is 'before', right is 'after'.

More later!

Day 51 - in which the Schweitz kicks some renovation butt

2008-04-30T04:50:00.000-07:00

So much has happened in the past week that I've barely had time to eat chocolate.
Barely.
Hold on, I've had time to eat chocolate, but no time for anything else.
A girl has her priorities, after all.

But all jokes aside (not that i was joking), there were times during the week when the house looked suspiciously like a bad episode of Renovation Rescue. Minus the Suzie Wilks babe factor. And after all my whining, we had in one place at one time: landscapers, floor sanders, electricians, carpenters, plumbers and any old riff raff that felt like wandering in off the street. It was manic.
Tony was very happy. I was very exhausted. Who knew it would take so much energy to watch other people work?

But nothing has managed to get our asses into gear like a visit from the Schweitz.
Or at least his ass is very much in gear, and ours is left trailing behind in his Energizer wake.
He is ace.
We've always known he was generous, it's kind of hard to miss someone with his size heart. His generosity is the stuff of family legend and something he would hit me if i wrote about. But when we were still in Melbourne and arrived home one night to find his sleeping bag and his inflatable mattress on our porch to take down with us, we knew he wasn't kidding about coming down and giving us a hand.

He's here a whole week!!

He arrived Monday, and I swear all the Launcestions must have thought the Beatles had reformed and arrived, by the rockstar welcome we gave him. I was yelling 'where is he? I can't see him!' and Tony is all 'he'll be there, don't worry. Oh, there he is, I'd know that scone anywhere.'

Then, we had another little laugh by taking him to a derelict house situated in small court along with McDonalds, a second hand car yard, a cane warehouse and a plaster making factory and telling him it was our place.
The cruelty!!
But by God it was hilarious. And he didn't even look at us like 'you must be kidding me', he just said 'it's changed from the photos, that's for sure.'
lol

But within days, suddenly rooms are getting finished and he's tackling all the things Tony and said 'gawd, who's going to fix that?' about.

All those little things like 'we've pulled out the entire cupboard and screwed the plaster up. How do we fix that?"
Schweitz

'Crap, we thought we were so smart buying those ceiling roses, but how do we get them up?'
Schweitz

Installing the kitchen?
Schweitz

He is a whiz, and in addition, has a repertoire of mild cuss words I'm thinking of employing on a full time basis. Or maybe it's just the way he cusses. He talks to the plaster/switch/ceiling rose like it actually has some say in the matter.
"Don't you dare you buggar. I'm warning you, don't even think about it" all said with such relish it's hard not to stand at the bottom of the ladder and grin. Then he says 'what're you doing? I thought you were getting me a cup of tea?'
lol

I don't think he has any idea how much it means to us to have him here. I keep trying to tell him, but he brushes it off. It's not his skills, although they are awesome and something my Dad would have been so proud of. It's having someone we love so much here and telling us it's all going to be okay. That we're doing okay. First Freya, and now Rob. We are blessed. In fact I feel so grateful that I have stocked my fridge with premium beer just because I know he likes it. I think I will owe him much babysitting of his children while he goes and holidays somewhere exotic.

In other news - we even have grass now, but that will have to wait till next post to dazzle you with it's goodness. For now, here's the halfway done BBQ area.

Day Um...not sure...maybe...lots

2008-04-21T03:50:00.000-07:00

Haha! Freya has taken control of the blog! For one post, anyway.
Actually, I bundled up my painting clothes and went down to Lonnie for four days to kick the tires on Robyn's reno, so I thought I'd better report back.
They have a freaking amazing job so far, and i heard a rumor the men were in to sand the floors today, so it will soon look even better.

In honour of my visit we got to stay in a posh hotel. (actually, it was the fact the bathroom looks like this & the washing the hair in the bucket disaster that led to the fancier digs, but let me have my delusions of grandeur) It was opposite the Boags Brewery, but I was without husband, so didn't have to go on a tour.

In their on-going quest for the perfect coffee/pancake/danish, I think R & T have been to every cafe in Launceston. (They're even giving advice to Fat Wombat, the landscape gardener, on where to go for a caffeine hit.)
I don't think they quite believed me when I said I really did come down to paint, so we had to stop eating and start working! (after blinis and bircher muesli, of course)

Here is me and Robyn on the scaffold.
I tried to take the pic, but managed to get all of Robyn and only half of me.

Robyn taking the pic worked much better. Taking a pic of yourself is a real skill!

It seems looking at the camera is also a skill.

Now it's time to boast. So here's a pic of the bit I did. I did the bit under the window and the rest of the wall after I took this and also bit you can't see, around the other side, but this shot includes Big Al, the little blue trailer.

Here's Robyn and Tony doing the really hard slog up on top of the scaffold. (I went up there to have a look around and found the hardest bit for me was getting down off the bloody thing. Tony's assessment as I struggled to extract myself - Very Graceful. Luckily there is no photographic evidence of how graceful that was. At one stage I thought they were going to have dismantle it to get me out.)

I did take an action shot of me painting to silence the Doubting Husband, who had the suspicion that the trip would be all chocolate & girly alcoholic beverages and no painting.

And look husband, I'm wearing that old shirt of yours to paint in. You know the one that was lying on the floor...what do you mean that wasn't old?

R & T, having been unsuccessful in canceling my ticket and keeping me as a renovation slave, drove me to the airport on Sunday afternoon via a Devonshire Tea. A peacock tried to eat Robyn's.

As you can see by Robyn's face, no one was going to take her scone.

The weekend just flew by, a wonderful mix of cafe, op shop and painting (oh, and sleeping - manual labour, how you tire me!) and today I kept getting that nagging feeling that I should be painting.

Thank you Robyn & Tony for having me.
Any dodgy paintwork is no doubt the bit I did!

Day 40 - in which we discover what SOME people will do for a day off

2008-04-16T17:37:00.000-07:00

Word on the street is that I'll do anything to get a day off. Even give myself heart palpitations, numb arms, and shooting pains.

So I spent yesterday at the Launceston General, letting them stick me with needles etc. I've never had an arterial blood test before! It is even more interesting when they let a university student jab away trying to find said artery (unsuccessfully). 'A little more angle, yes, maybe the artery is a little deeper than I led you to suspect.....oh, move to one side, I'll find it."
And then they tell me NOT to be nervous but to hold very very still if I just could. I find I have an unparalleled talent for holding still. I am the holding-still queen.

Anyway, long tedious day short, there's nothing wrong with me (apart from the obvious) and I should try and relax a little.
HA!!

I thought they were going to have to admit Tony, he looked so worried. He even took me out for cake afterward, but not coffee, because let's face it - I obviously create enough stimulation all by myself.

Day 38? I've lost count

2008-04-14T17:50:00.000-07:00

Task for the day:
Paint exterior. More specifically - second coat on the tinwork at the front of the house in a desperate attempt to have it finished before the landscapers rock up. In a strange twist of tradesman fate - they came a day early YESTERDAY when we were only halfway through the first coat. They say they're coming back Wednesday....I think you can trust anyone who calls himself 'Fat Wombat'. It bodes well.

Here's where the bathroom is at:
GONE!

Here's where the kitchen is at:
GONE!

And here's the mess we had after all that fun:

And here's where the painting is at:

Renovating is a journey of self discovery. I have discovered i am not at all scared of heights. Happy as a pig in the proverbial way up on the roof, looking out at the mountains, watching the rain clouds come in.
Then swearing at the rain clouds.
Then getting rained on and watching my whole mornings work turn into a puddle. Then clambering down as fast as my legs will carry me when the wind picks up.
Maybe i'm a little bit scared of heights after all.

But I find that unlike city driving, there is very little that can annoy me. I am so laid back you could carry me around in that little yellow bucket I toss the brushes in when I'm on top of the scaffold. Perhaps it is the disintegration of my muscles after all this hard work.

Tomorrow the action heats up (!) with the plumbers/carpenters and landscapers all expected to lob early am.

I, on the other hand, am lobbing myself and Tony into the nearest hotel tomorrow night.

This is after the none-too-glorious experience of washing my long hair in a bucket (yes, the same yellow one) yesterday. And bathing in a tepid pool of inch high water is not up there on my 'must-experience' list either. Put them both together, with me bathing in an inch of water and washing my hair in a bucket while the wind whistles up my wazoo through the crack under the door - and you've got one unhappy little camper.
Which I think in all conscience, I must now add 'camping' to the list of things I have no intention of ever trying.

I'm trying to convince Tony that tripping off ladders and spraining his ankle should never have made it on his list of 'to-do's' but now he's laid up with a bag of peas (the same bag we used on his neck two weeks ago) on his ankle and a very distressed look on his face. Those peas have been frozen and unfrozen so many times they probably don't know what the heck is going on.
Please send him good vibes (Tony, not the peas).

Anyway - I must go back up on the scaffold to finish the eaves. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD this is taking a long time.

Day 32 - in which we haul our aching muscles back up the scaffold

2008-04-09T00:20:00.000-07:00

More exterior work today. Here's a pic Tony took of me at the end of the day when all I wanted was a good stiff drink.
He handed me a Midori Illusion.
I said 'that's not stiff enough'
He said 'too bad, it's what you bought'.

Why do I always pick the prettiest bottles in the bottle shop rather than something that will do the job, i.e. knock me out? Perhaps I should take some Panadeine with it.

Just joking, Mum.

So we've done two coats of the top part of half the house. We're going to be at it next easter at this rate. I have also discovered that Builders Bog is the Putty of Satan. It hardens in three minutes, smells like hot fibreglass, and has fumes that feel like they're burning my eyes out. After it glued my rubber gloves together, I made a stand - I don't care if the bucket of it cost $30 -- I'm NOT USING IT!!!

Tony discovered that with a little ingenuity and an even spraying method, he can make the ugly chrome door handle a thing of beauty. I am very impressed. Especially considering when he insisted on buying the spray at Bunnings today, I said : 'Oh, go ahead. But don't come running to me when it looks poxy.'
So of course it looks fabulous.

Then there was the farce of my door lacquering ability. You might remember that we sent the front door off to get dipped. Well it came back and I've been mildly successful in my stain/lacquer job. In fact, I thought I was pretty hot stuff, until we went to look at the other doors today and saw the professional kind of job the dip&strip joint does.
Oh dear.
THEY didn't have any drip marks.
THEY didn't have some areas darker than others; and
THEY didn't have any brush marks whatsoever.

So putting on my best 'i-really-don't-want-to-pay-any-more-but-please-mr-nice-man-please
-varnish-my-doors-for-free' face, while Tony COMPLETELY undermined me by saying 'just pay it. Just pay whatever they want', I proceeded to bargain a whole $20 off the price.
Go me.
So now, at least, the rest of the doors won't be bodgy.

So it's triumphs all round here, as we gear up for a night in which we take a bootful of our dirty washing down to the laundromat and eat take out Chinese while we wait for it to go through spin cycle.

I have such a glamorous life.

Day 27 - In which we move on outside

2008-04-06T02:10:00.000-07:00

Exterior, Exterior, our boring white Exterior.
Why do i think you'll be a pain in our posterior?

It's not like we're finished with inside, or anything - but apparently the weather is going to turn NASTY in about three weeks (maybe two) and the people in the know have suggested we get our butts outside and start to paint before it's all too late. I mean, you can see me, can't you, being so very very happy to be outside painting on a cold foggy Launceston morning. Nope. Can't imagine it. In fact it sounds like a quick route to hell.

Which of course begs the question - what the heck colour are we going to paint it? I mean, I thought choosing interior colours was hard - but exterior paint is OUT THERE for the whole world to see when i screw it up majorly.
So much faffing and tooing and frooing has been happening down here.
None of which makes Tony happy.
In fact it makes him very UNhappy.
To the point where yesterday, just before I bought the sample pot he didn't think was necessary to buy, he said to me: "If you change your mind again, I'm going to kill myself."

WELL!

That's quite a forceful and shocking thing to say, when frankly, all I'm trying to do is make it all look good.

So I bought my little sample pot of 'Portland Stone' and spent the afternoon putting it up while he worked like a demon scraping paint off the guttering. And let me tell you, despite my superior understanding of colour and wonderful eye for decorating (ha!) - it looked like total cack.

I'm talking, hey, who rubbed the nappy up on your wall??' kind of cack colour. So disgusting, that I wondered what the heck I could possibly have been thinking. AND to make matters worse, I teamed this godawful colour with a greeny grey that screamed at it just as loud as the screaming in my head.

Ha!

So after a while, Tony came to see what I was up to. He just looked at it and said 'so, we have to find a new colour.'

Thank GOD!!!

So in the end, I trawled the internet and found this NZ company called Resene that makes really pretty exterior colours and two sample pots later we're ready to go. It's not going to set the world on fire - but it's pretty, and i'm happy.

We've got our scaffold (which I'd like to throw our mattress to the top of and sleep on, looks like fun), and Tony has put in some mammoth effort scraping the entire exterior, so there are paint flakes covering the ground.

In other news, I had my first experience with a high pressure cleaner yesterday when I cleaned all the weather boards. And in another one of those 'who knew' moments, it turns out that what i thought was exhaust fumes covering the house is actually a lovely black MOULD.

Attractive. Needless to say, I blasted the crap out of it.

Tony then saw how much fun it all was, and blasted the BBQ area which now looks as good as new. We are exceptionally talented at blasting stuff.

Day 24 - in which we discover the basket of too-hardness

2008-04-02T00:10:00.000-07:00

It should probably come as no surprise that we've been finding it hard to pin tradesmen down.
They either:

a) can't quote because they're too busy,
b) don't show up to quote
c) show up and then don't send us the quote,
d) show up to quote but then never show up again
e) have a three month wait period

....ad neuseum. I'm sure you either get the idea, or have experienced it yourself.

But Tony took out the cat herding honors today by booking a tiler AND a plumber AND a floor sander. He is up for some big treats like a back rub or something for his stellar effort. I don't deal well with tradesmen (a fact he refuses to believe). Today he asked me to call one. Being the good and dutiful wife I am (lol) I complied, only for the whole debacle to end with me screeching that it might be all very well and good for HIM (the tradie) to go without a shower, but I SMELL and need to have one, so could he PLEASE tell me when he is coming. It was probably pure embarrassment that caused him to give me the date.

We were going to do the floor sanding ourselves, but after a few days of (Tony) pulling up carpet only to find foam stuck to the floorboards, only to lift that to find CARPET GLUE underneath that, we bow to the fact that IT'S TOO FREAKING HARD and we'd spend two weeks just getting that glue off when a professional will probably do it in two days. In line with the 'each room is a different colour' debacle, each room has a different flooring problem. Some have glue, some mold (ick!) some lift up perfectly. Like these three rooms:

There are times when the money is just well spent. And I'm sure this is one of them. Otherwise, we'll be here so long that I'll have to sign up for the dole to get some money because that seems to be the job of choice down here. That might sound narky, but I assure you, I am merely conveying the truth of the job situation down here. On the news the other night, tassie had the lowest participation in the job force in Australia. Huh??

Day 18 - Going for Gold

2008-03-28T00:46:00.000-07:00

BRUCE: Welcome viewers, to the 2008 World Paintsport Championships. I’m Bruce McAveney, and let me say, you’re in for a treat tonight. Ron, you’re a painting expert, tell us about the main event, the Women’s 8 Hour painting marathon, and Australia’s hopes tonight.

(turns to Ron)

RON (from Gunns Painting Section, Launceston): That’s right Bruce, hold onto your pants, because Robyn E that shy, retiring girl from Melbourne will be up to her eyeballs in Hogs Bristle 1/4 strength, painting for Australia in the final tonight.

BRUCE (laughs): Shy and retiring, you say? See, Ron, I've heard a different story. I've heard that she'll tell anyone who listens that she paints like a demon and that she's all but got the gold in the bag tonight. And I've seen her, she's lightening.

RON: There's a fair bit of bravado going on there, but let's watch the girl herself in action. There she is now, with her hallmark cupcake showercap and safety glasses, making her way to the starting gate with her extender pole and edge cutter. And they're off!!

BRUCE: My but look at that style Ron. You must be a little envious that so much painting skill comes in such a short, fat package.

RON (nods): Yep. I knew when she walked into my store she was trouble. Asking for the undercoat to be tinted, quizzing my about the best method of removing the always troublesome Dulux Suede. You notice the sheer reach she has on that ladder. Many have told her not to overextend herself, that she'll fall off the ladder, that she'll injure herself. But she's proving them all wrong tonight.

BRUCE: She's cutting in now, then? I don't think I've ever seen that particular method.

RON: She calls it 'feathering'.

BRUCE: Speeeeccial. She's got such a light, fast touch. Really it's something you'd expect to see on an oil painter.

RON: Exactly, Bruce. She incorporates elements from across the arts, and that's what makes her so great. Feathering from oil painting, lunges from ballet, and she's even been known to punt kick empty paint tins across the room when things don't go her way.

BRUCE: Well things seem to be going her way tonight. She's way ahead of the field and it looks like it's going to be GOLD GOLD GOLD for Australia tonight. What's she doing now?

RON: That's her patented rollering method. It's known within the industry as the 'Slapper'. Look at the speed, strength and ability she's displaying. I'd be hard pressed to find a tradie who could do a better job.

BRUCE: In fact, that's the reason she has this high-flying ability, isn't it? The tradies let her down time and time again. Leaving drip marks, flaking paint and charging her a fortune.

RON: She couldn't take them ripping her off for a second more. And the day she picked up a paint brush was the day Australia gained it's best female marathon painter. This girl can go for hours on end without a toilet break. All she requires is a few squares of chocolate and the occasional swig of vodka cruiser.

BRUCE: Well I'll shout her a drink tonight if she wins.

RON: She's already won, Bruce, she's finally painted out that bloody Dulux Suede Effects.

GONE!!!!!

Tony thinks I've been sniffing too much paint. I must defer to his superior knowledge and sign off so he can watch Brisbane v Collingwood.

Day 16 - in which we travel twenty minutes to a place five minutes from home

2008-03-25T23:41:00.000-07:00

We just don't seem to comprehend how small Launceston is and how nowhere is far from anywhere. Today, for example, after studying the street directory, we traveled over twenty minutes to get to Plaster Perfection. I mean, it was worth the drive through all the curvy-sick-inducing roads (plus a stop at a servo when we got lost) because they manufacture the most exquisite ceiling roses. And in the end we got what we were looking for:

I'm always surprised they're so cheap. I mean $50 for something that adds so much character? What a bargain. We currently have no ceiling roses in our house for the same reason that the plaster work in the house is so excellent -- all the old plaster was ripped out and replaced sometime in the late '80s.

So then, ceiling roses carefully packed into the car, we trundle home. There's a massive green warehouse on the hillside about a kilometre away, and I say to Tony with a giggle 'hey, wouldn't it be funny if that was Bunnings?' because Bunnings is like about five minutes from our place using the link freeway.

'No way can it be Bunnings," he replied.

It was Bunnings. I laughed.

He didn't laugh because the poor thing is in agony today. It all happened last night at 8.25pm when he realised that he had not left himself enough time to finish the hall ceiling without missing the start of Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares.

Now, those of you that know Tony know he could no sooner miss that show than overcook a steak. So even though we'd been painting for five hours, he belted through it, only to wake up this morning with a neck shaped like a corkscrew. I kept wondering why he wouldn't look at me when I spoke to him, then realised it was hurting him too much to turn his neck :-(
I swear, you can actually FEEL where it's out of whack. He has an appointment with the chiropractor tomorrow to adjust it. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, in an attempt to give said husband an uninterrupted afternoon nap with his sore neck (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) I went out op-shopping and struck GOLD.
Two, count them TWO first edition Georgette Heyer's of the like you seldom find in Melbourne.

We also discovered that when the weather bureau forecasts 'showers' for Launceston, it means 'freaking-downpour-that-you-can't-run-to-your-car in-without-getting-soaked'. It's been raining all day here today and all we wish is that Melbourne was getting it instead. Of course I left my car window open a crack last night and had to sit on wet seat for that twenty minute drive. Wet bum!!

Also, kitty's name is Pushka, seen here this morning jumping onto my lap for a pat while I did my morning emails. Good kitty!!

Day 14 - in which we have a special guest

2008-03-22T22:29:00.000-07:00

Tony loves cats.
And in the twelve years I've known him, I've never met a cat that doesn't adore Tony. It's a mutual admiration society he's got going on with the entire species.

So it came as no surprise when this little girl, seen here checking out what we've got in the trailer, wandered into our backyard and curled herself around Tony's legs. We've seen her before, she lives across the road and has been coming closer and closer each day.

Within five minutes, our new nameless friend was reduced to rolling on her back, paws in the air getting a good tummy rub. I should understand, he tends to have the same effect on me. lol.

Day 12 - in which we start with a bang and then collapse in a mangled heap

2008-03-21T01:15:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful day in Launceston today. So beautiful that after a mammoth morning of painting, I decided to take my books and relax in my new conservatory.
The car, that is.
That was about 2 o'clock. Then before I know it, I wake up with my arm flung over my head and my already sore neck crooked at a very unnatural angle. I look at my mobile phone and it's 4 o'clock. I have slept for two hours in bright sunlight, sitting bolt upright, a feat I can NEVER achieve on a plane, even dosed up on phenergen.
We are so tired.
And sore. It hurts to even touch my forearms or neck because I've spent the last three days clutching a paint rod. It's like a battle. Me versus the ceiling. And of course, any battle needs armour.

Tony laughed himself silly when he first saw me in this get up. But hey - one, I don't want to have to try and get paint out of my hair every night, and two, paint in the eyes HURTS! And that ceiling spits at me whenever it gets the chance (see aforementioned entry re NO PROPER CEILING PAINT). Still, I suppose I didn't have to don the cupcake shower cap to make my point. Normal people would wear a bandanna or something.

Anyway, afternoon nap over, I went inside to find Tony also sleeping, but the way proper people do it - on the bed. We are Renovator's Extraordinaire.

But the painting comes along. Our resident consultant, Dad Enlund, suggested we do all ceilings first and then do the walls. He's been a gem. I offered to bring him down here and set him up with an armchair, his tele and cups of tea on demand if he'd take on the role full time, but he graciously declined.

In other news, we took down the hideous black and pink floral curtains and found this lovely stained glass in the bedroom.

And I hauled the multi-painted front door down to the dip and strip joint (if only it were as lurid as it sounds) where they assure me their all organic dipper (??) will take the old front door back to it's original glory. Of course the shop was on the side of a freaking hill (as many things are here) and of course I still don't know how to back my trailor, despite many attempts, so the guys in the office had a good laugh while I tried to park and get my doors into them. Eventually they helped. But only after I'd provided some light entertainment. Next time I pay the $30 for pick up and delivery.

And just for some fun, I post you a picture of the seven foot high corn our tenants planted in the backyard, a picture that succinctly explains the massive water bills I've been grumbling about for the past few months.

Day 9 -- in which we sand our little hearts out and I discover a brand new place to rest my tools

2008-03-18T00:14:00.000-07:00

It's been hot down here, but we've been busy. To date:

-half of the kitchen cabinets made. Discovered IKEA had packed two right hand panels in one of them. No earthly way to make that baby fit together.

After a night of tossing and turning, called IKEA who said. "Oh dear, and you're all the way in Tasmania! We'll pick it tonight, but we can only get it down there for you as fast as Australia Post can carry it'. No charge. HELLO SERVICE!!

-full prep done for painting. Used about ten litres of spakfiller and joint thingie. Walls look great. But hey - I thought they looked great before. Little did i know.

- trip to the tip with remnants of the front garden. I have since learned that going to the tip on a 34 degree day and a hot northerly is 'A Mistake'. An even bigger mistake is applying a thick coat of sunscreen beforehand so that all the clouds of dust and dirt from that northerly stick to your skin like a bad spray tan. The colour was actually better than some I've seen lately. Third mistake is trusting the open boot not to fall on my head, clunking me on the scone. OUCH!~!

-purchased paint from Ron at Gunns. Asked for ceiling paint. Confirmed with Ron that indeed that big-arse can of paint was ceiling paint. Got home to discover the blasted thing is just plain old wall paint.
Was just winding up for a major tantrum when Tony suggested I should stop obsessing about such trivialities and pick up that extension pole I just badgered him into buying for me. You can see a tiny bit of the colour we went with the in the top right hand corner. Looks pretty.

-carpet ripped up in front room to discover (gasp) that the floor boards are painted mission brown. Anyone got any ideas on that one? How the heck should we get it off? In good news, Tony discovered that the skirting boards go all the way to the floor boards, meaning no messy gap filling. Yay for old skirting boards!

-in an effort to loosen up my tired aching muscles, I took myself down to the City Park where they have a summer yoga program under a big old tree. No, they do not provide yoga mats. Yes, there is MOUNTAINS of possum poo. Yes, that provides for an interesting 'downward dog'. No, I cannot touch my toes. No, it was not the gentle lovely Hatha yoga but some hybrid power yoga thingie that almost had me collapsing (who am I kidding with the 'almost?'). No, I cannot walk today. But yes, I had a blast.

- still waiting on quotes from tradesmen who while lovely and helpful, do not seem to share our eagerness to work.

- I discovered that when you're standing up a ladder unsuccessfully trying to juggle a paint scraper, putty knife and pot of putty, there's only one place left to rest your tools -- the bum pocket. Man! Who knew being so well endowed in the arse area would be such a handyman's boon?
Do yourself a favor and don't try to imagine it.

Robyn

Day 6 - in which we faff about in a day of rest

2008-03-15T01:51:00.000-07:00

Week 1 is almost up and we're starting to feel much more settled. Or at least as settled as you can be with none of your stuff around you.
Must say though, I'm not really missing the piles of possessions that clump around our house in Essendon like forgotten friends. There is something so liberating about having nothing but a few changes of clothes and a mattress to sleep on. No rugs to vacuum, furniture to dust, errant books to herd or ironing to pretend I'll do. I feel free.

Which makes me wonder, why is it so much easier to bring things into your house than it is to get rid of them? Why, week after week, do I trudge into my house with a never ending procession of things I don't really need? Especially when getting rid of them feels so very very good? I might be basking in the glory of this now, but when I return home, I'll be an inflatable mattress, bar fridge and oodles of tools heavier. Maybe this whole experience will help me turn it around.

Robyn

Day 4 - in which the day starts with awesome jelly lamingtons and coffee

2008-03-13T18:16:00.000-07:00

So we potter along slowly - perhaps a bit more slowly than we anticipated due to the fact that it takes two strong coffees to get our sore muscles moving from the exertion of the day before.

And when I say exertion, I mean dirt covered, sweaty disgusting exertion of the kind seldom found in my sheltered life. Yesterday we decided to dig out the plants in the front garden to pave the way for our future garden of brilliance. But of course, in what has to be my mantra of the past few days 'wow, who knew that was under there?'
Because in renovating, I'm learning one thing really fast -- there's always something icky underneath.
Take for example the lovely, low maintenance wood chip in the front garden. We innocently thought a little patch of grass might be nice there -- so duly ripped up the wood chip (and that awful weed mat underneath) only to find this:

wow. It's like none of the bountiful Tasmanian rain ever found it's way through the matting. Which of course, it didn't. So now we need to hire a cultivator to plough the dirt up.

But at the end of the day, Big Al looked was all ready to go to the tip -

and we were ready to collapse onto the air bed and watch an episode of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares which always makes us feel better about ourselves -- 'heh heh, we might be sore, but at least we aren't 100,000 pounds in debt! -- a reaction I believe to be at the root of the world's fascination with reality tv.

Today it's more painting preparation. We bought a ladder yesterday, one of those fold-a-million-ways numbers that creaks every time I climb it and makes me feel like I need a safety harness. Which, let's face it, I probably do.

As we prep the rooms, rubbing off dirt and filling holes, we try to imagine what the HECK our lovely tenants were doing to create the particular package of dents and smells. One bedroom has charcoal splatter in the corner and up the walls like someone lit a fire, and the carpet smells like old casserole. The mind boggles. I'm trying (unsuccessfully) to get Tony to blog. Please help me in my petition for the male POV. He reckons he'll just put a heap of dot points. I say that's just fine and sounds like a hoot.

Day 1In which our intrepid renovators are woken from their trusty air-bed at 3am by the police.

2008-03-11T01:09:00.000-07:00

Tenants - bah! Who needs them?
Especially when they leave unwanted things behind like pingpong tables, moldy carpet, old freezers and fridges, graffitti in the garage and, oh yes, WARRANTS FOR THEIR ARREST.
lol
Not that I should laugh, because trust me, there's nothing funny about the police banging the door down at 3am looking for the person whose car is registered to our address last seen doing dodgy things in a suburb on the other side of town.
But they kept banging away, so pulling on our pants we stumbled out of bed opened the door so they could figure out we:

a) weren't Ethiopian (unlike our tenants)
b) didn't own a metallic blue commodore
c) truly weren't Ethiopian
d) had appallingly bad mental function at 3am.

After fifteen minutes and many 'huh?'s and 'wha?'s on our part and a visit by a second patrol car, they sauntered off empty handed - although not completely empty handed because they were privy to the sight of my large ass in a dainty nighty coupled with tracksuit pants. That'll teach 'em.

So of course today we really couldn't be bothered doing much of much. I washed down the aptly named rubic's cube room. This bedroom gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'feature wall'. It's got one in hot pink, one blue, one green and one yellow. All teamed with a beige ceiling. Or is that just smoke stain?
Who knows. I mean, i thought I was over feature walls altogether - but apparently I just had to apply **more* of them to overcome my ennui.

Sadly, I also stripped off the fairy wall paper border in bedroom 2 , leaving it much less magical. Although having said that - I'm sure it still has some magic left, because you'd have to be away with the fairies to put royal purple paint below the border line and hot pink above in a room to start with.

I'll upload a shot for you when i find the connection for the camera somewhere amongst my crap. Things are turning up slowly. But why, oh why, did the special 'odour eliminating' candle I bought from Dusk have to go missing?
Life is farting on me.

Robyn

The House of Rubic

2008-03-08T04:59:00.000-08:00

Hey all,

If you've landed on this page, you know that Tony & I have crazily upped sticks and taken the boat down to Tasmania to renovate our house.

We leave on Monday, for a length of time unknown but realistically two months. Really hopefully more like six weeks. Stupendously, rose-coloured glasses hopefully four weeks.

Here's a taste of what we have to deal with:

Memories of Sweden right there in your kitchen (complete with painted tiles). Personally I'm loving the sheer cheerfulness of this little number, but unfortunately the circa 1983 beige tiles are making their way back to the surface.
You can't keep a good tile down.

More soon. We're spending tomorrow packing the car and trusty blue trailor (named Big Al) for the trip down on the boat.
Cue manic laughter....