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Run For Your Life! It's the boss lady.. Ann Jillian: REHAB Commando! by Jim Hummel |
When the work starts to fizzle,
it's time for Boss Ann to sizzle!
of TheColumnists.com
I'm not sure if I'm ready to shove Martha (Stewart) out of the way, but, hey, RICK (Avila), I"M CATCHIN' UP WITH YOU!!!
My home is in utter chaos! It started with the deceptively simple little words,"What if"...and the possibilities started tumbling one into another like a domino display on a late night talk show I saw some years ago: We would do a home improvement project!
It
started small, but then stuff started to happen. Making the decision
to change the carpet bumped into the tile, which in turn bumped
into the paint which, in turn, bumped into the wallpaper, which
in turn slammed into a lineup of "little necessities"
such as faucets, handrails, vanities, wood flooring, cabinets,
lighting, bookcases, baths, showers and commodes.
Not all in the same room, of course.
Reeling
onto my back porch, I surveyed the frenzy of activity in my once
docile landscape. Like Caesar, surveying his empire with a "peeled
eye" from a lofty vantage point, I breathed in and something
reached deep into my senses, a definite "headiness"
brought on by the surge of power I felt: This was my world! Destiny
was calling!
Or, I guess it could've been those fumes...
Every niche was bulging with equipment in curious mounds covered with canvas, pregnant with possibilities. Workmen, high up their ladders wielding ignited mini blow-torches hung, as if in suspended animation, like dragons spewing flame onto the brittle paint that floated down to the ground in singed curls.
A line of painters dutifully trudged up the driveway, single file, holding buckets of paint in both hands. Momentarily, I experienced a deja-vu. The scene was reminiscent of the Sorcerer's Apprentice in Disney's "Fantasia," where a broom carrying buckets of water begins to multiply. I looked around the corner to see if there was a legion of painters trailing from the street. There wasn't. Whew!!!
What a scene! What a mess! But what a kick!
Crazy you say?? My husband, Andy, says so, too. That's O.K. That's what makes horse races.
Oh, how I wish Andy was handy! But it ain't necessarily so. In fact, just the remote possibility of an offer from him to "fix" or "do" something in the house, makes me sweat bullets and I suppress a desperate,"no-o-o!" because I know that I'll have three other things to "fix" as a result of it. No, it's better to have it done by the professionals the first time. That's precisely why we're doing all of this. Every little step made us braver to take the next one.
I
really enjoy this metamorphosis that's taking place, too. It's
a personal "environmental evolution" and I'm even learning
a lot about things I have no business knowing anything about.
Such as "wax rings." It took a few passes back and
forth between my husband and the plumber before I understood
what they were saying in the midst of the din created by the
sanding machines they were standing under.
"Wack wing!" I thought I heard the plumber say, "Wack wing!!"
(I must get my ears checked).
"Whack, whack what?!" my husband inquired over the noise. (We'll get our ears checked together).
The answer sailed over the mega-decibels that suddenly stopped and left the plumber's voice trailing alone: "Wax Rings?!!!!!!"
And the echo was lost in the hills behind our house. For those of you who don't have a clue, as I didn't, this is the name given to the rubber rings that create a moisture seal between the base of the toilet and the surface of the floor. For obvious reasons, it could be a disaster without them.
Fascinating, I know.
The thrills don't stop there, baby. Betcha didn't know that I can strip wallpaper with the best of them! Or, that my eye is as good as a leveler, the precision instrument they use to judge the accurate placement of items to be installed. A previous builder witnessed this to his amazement (and mine) when the sinks to be installed were an eighth of an inch off and I kept saying so. The installer kept saying it just looked that way, and the builder brought a leveler to shut me up. Sure enough, it was an eighth of an inch off. They stood there scratching their heads while a pleased, Cheshire-cat grin slowly spread over my face.
But it's not all fun and games. Creation, as a rule, has its labor pains. You might even have a case of nausea, if you're not temperamentally suited for the task.
Choosing to remodel for the holidays, shortly after summer, is a bold venture for even those blessed with nerves of steel. In my case it was either optimism or stupidity. I choose to think it was the former.
So, optimistically, I let my son have a raucous Halloween party where he and his 14 friends could trample through the kitchen and other parts of our house with respectably wild abandon before I ripped everything out and replaced it.
Pleased with having given my son a once-in-a-lifetime party to remember, I set about making the schedule with my husband. Everything was going on schedule. Could this be? No. Of course not.
The paint job that had been cheerfully promised to be finished in 4-5 days, turned into 7, and then 3 1/2 weeks! The painters became such a part of our daily routine, that I had honestly stopped paying attention to them back in the guest house. Apparently a labor dispute had erupted between the boss and the laborers and they started stretching their time on the job. I've never seen anything sanded for so long. The exterior of the 60-plus-year-old cottage felt like velvet. That's the good news. The bad news is that after they slapped the primer on half of the house with danger of scattered showers coming, they decided to walk out on the job leaving us in the lurch. Big headache.
Just as the "domino principle" barreled us into the project, so did this act of defiance barrel the delay of every other worker that was set to go.
Meanwhile, in the main house, my wallpaper lady was working with the door open and the windows closed. The flying insects were having a field day with us and the wallpaper lady was getting high on the fumes. You could tell by the way she papered over the a/c and heat vent. The horizontal print on the paper also had a decidedly downward keel over the door.
On top of that, my husband took one look at the lovely topiary print that I had taken hours to decide upon, and summed it up: "Hmph, Christmas trees!" My head started to throb. I needed a pain reliever.
It's too late to turn back now. All systems are go, er..wait a minute, I trust my choices...
It takes patience, stick-to-it-iveness, diplomacy, and a healthy dose of driving ambition to complete the chore of bringing together crews of strangers and orchestrating them in such a way that they will work harmoniously to one end...that of giving you what you want in the time limit you have set. It always astounds me when I see huge structures go up seemingly (and very nearly) overnight, and I can't get some guys to come out to do what, in comparison, is a very simple job. But, when it comes down to it, in addition to the qualities mentioned up above, sometimes you have to just grit your teeth and grab a hammer, or screwdriver, paintbrush, razor, or whatever is necessary to help, and keep your eye on the vision.
The wallpaper turned out well, the painting is finished, the tile work is beautiful, the carpets and the window treatments are on their way (which is a good thing since holiday guests are on their way too). Very soon, the obstacles will be laughed at over some wine. My husband , who is a great story teller will entertain us all with our mishaps, I'm sure.
As for me, though I won't trade in my St. John Knits for work boots and a pair of overalls (jeans, shirt and a pair of Keds will do just fine), I don't mind the flannel shirt at all. It was fun, challenging and I will do it again...
But not too soon.
© 2000 by Ann Jillian Murcia. Original cartoon © 2000 by Jim Hummel.
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comment on this column or contact Ann Jillian with an email to:
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You
can visit Ann's own website by clicking here: www.annjillian.com
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