Shovels and rakes and women of Mass Destruction... or, the Plumbing Wars continue.
... continued from previous episode.
1.In case any of you missed it, here is a link to the first installment of My plumbing nightmare.
So. After being confronted by the oatmeal sodden fixtures and lump-like wad-o-directions. I did a “strategic withdrawal.” I.E I poured myself a beer, and sat and stared at the mess, considering what needed to be done. When one is going to do battle with Lords of Plumbing, one must plan ones assault very, very carefully.
As I was examining the oatmeal sodden fixtures, I heard The Texan in my head, giving his sage advice, which was.. “I think this calls fer a stick o- dynamite and a bottle a JD!”
And, I actually thought about that for a minute. The shock wave from the detonation of a stick of TNT would most likely blow the oatmeal encasement off the fixtures. But, to achieve the cleaning of said fixtures, without their destruction, I calculated I would have to place the stick of TNT... somewhere within my garage. So, did I want to blow up my garage just to clean some bathroom fixtures? Um mm... no! So, I dealt with it using a much quieter and gentler method. I used a power washer.
The issue of the waterlogged directions was also dealt with. Some of them could be salvaged, and those that could not... I downloaded and printed from the manufacturers website. Then the real assault began!
The first phase of the operation, was to remove the old bathtub. Of course, the enemy.. i.e. Lords of Plumbing, did not give up without a fight! The removal of the old fiberglass tub should not have been much of a problem. Take off the trim, remove the plumbing fixtures, remove the nails that held the tub to the studs of the house, and take the damn thing out.
Except of course, that the guy who put the tub in, is the same one who used duct tape to fix his kitchen plumbing, and his wood chopping ax. Well, I guess he figured that if you can't tape something down, it should be epoxied in place! So, yeah... he had epoxied the bathtub to the floor. Score one for the Plumbing lords!
Now, at this point in my life, there is a lot going on.. and much of it stresses me out. Everything is changing and shifting, and I really have no idea how things will end up, in any area of my life. I know how I hope things will end up, but the Universe rarely takes my hopes into account, and while change is necessary... it is also stressful.
So, when one is majorly stressed out, one usually needs a bit of therapy. Of course, The Texan chimed in again with “Bet that dynamite and hootch would be pretty... therapeutic, right 'bout now!” And while he was indeed right, I think I needed a more “hands on “ approach to my therapy. So, I went and got my 12 lb sledge hammer and a few large crowbars and some old steel chisels, and had myself a wonderfully therapeutic hour or two!
At the end of my “therapy” session, the fiberglass bathtub had been reduced to easily manageable pieces, and the pieces that had been epoxied to the floor had been chiseled off, and all of the debris had been put in the back of my car. Score one for me!
Time to put the new tub in. So, with the help of Dave ( A good friend of Marti's who is staying with us for a while), I got the new tub off the back porch and into the space where the old tub had been. Once we dropped the tub in place, I realized that the drain opening in the new tub, was 1 inch farther away from the edge of the tub than the old tub's drain had been. The old tub had been non-standard in it's construction. Score another point for the Plumbing Lords!
So, out came the new tub, and then I had to remove and replace the entire bath-drain/overflow assembly, with a newer one, which was one inch longer.
And after that, I had to convert the old 2 handle tap system to a single handle one. During that process of course, one of the ancient valves in the hot water line decided this was a fine to give up the ghost, thus creating a geyser of very hot water which did a very passable Old Faithful imitation until I could get to the main water shut off. The Plumbing Lords score again!
So.. as I was emerging from the bathroom, ancient crusty brass piping in my hand and smelling like... well, old plumbing water, the phone rang. It was of course, my mother. What is it that gives parents this almost mythical sense of “bad timing”? From walking into my room just as my friend Kay was climbing in my window clad only in her underwear ( this was during my high school years, many decades ago); to several years ago, arriving at our house one evening, 24 hours earlier than her estimate, just in time to see the coven Marti was part of at the time emerge from the temple room, sky clad ( that means naked, folks), to calling at times like this? Well, whatever it is... my mother has it in spades!
So after the required preliminary niceties, I told my mother that this was not really a great time to call, and could I call her back? She said that what she had to say was short and would not take much time. My mother, bless her heart, then went on to say that after talking to my father, she had been feeling a bit guilty for ordering all these fixtures and then leaving me to install them, so she had decided that if I wanted to hire a plumber to do the installation, she would happily pay for that as well as the fixtures.
I counted to ten. It didn't work. I counted to ten again... no effect.
Knowing I had to say something soon; with my teeth clenched so hard it would make Clint Eastwood proud, I said “ It's a bit late for that I think.”
When my mother asked why, I told her that I was going to do the plumbing myself. Well, she was all kinds of upset about that, saying how it took years of training to be come a liscenced plumber, and if I did something wrong I could end up ruining the structure of the house, etc. etc. etc. Well, after a lengthy conversation ( this always happens when my mother says it's going to be a 'short' phone call), which I shall not repeat here, my mother asked if I would at least consider hiring someone to help me with the plumbing, and that she would gladly reimburse me for whatever I paid them. At this point, I heard The Texan again say “never mind the dynamite son, how but about that hootch?”
Then, I knew I was as close to 'losing it' as I have been in a very long while. Usually, I only hear The Texan in my head once a month or so, and when I'm stressed, as often as once a week... and this made the third time in a day! Dangerous territory indeed.
And then, divine inspiration struck! I told my mom that yes, indeed, I had already hired someone who was helping me with the plumbing. Well, my mom was glad to hear that! She asked me a few questions, like was this person an actual plumber, and stuff like that. I told her no, this person was not a plumber, but he knew what he was doing, and was offering advice and suggestions. She asked me if he was a neighbor of mine, and I told her that he was originally from Texas, but lived fairly close to me now. That seemed to keep her happy, and so she asked me how much I was going to pay him.
I did a quick calculation in my head.. going rate for a plumber divided by three (cause neither me or The Texan are actual plumbers), times the number of hours I anticipated doing this project, add in a bit for “pain and suffering”, and a discount because well.. I was about to charge my parents for the advice given me by one of the voices in my head; I.E The Texan. So, after that quick calculation, I said “With what I'm going to pay him, plus parts, its going to be around $500”
My mother replied that that sounded fair, and she would put a check in the mail tomorrow for $500.
So, yeah, I just charged my parents for the services of a non-existent person, who is only a voice in my head, so therefore me... So, in other words, I charged my parents for giving me thousands of dollars worth of bathroom fixtures. Was that rude of me? I hope not, because I would do it again in a heart beat!
And so, feeling much better about this whole thing, after getting off the phone with my mother, I set to work on the bathroom with much renewed vigor and a smile on my face!
It made me sorry now, but only vaguely, that I only had the one voice in my head left... now that I have figured out I can hire the voices in my head out as sub-contractors, I sort of wish I had a few more of them, like I did back when I was a teenager.
You see, back when I was 15-18, I heard a lot of different voices in my head. Some were good, some were bad... but none of them ever told me to do things, I.E became Command Voices; they just offered commentary, opinions, advice, etc. etc, so I did not think they were a problem. I thought everyone heard voices... otherwise where did expressions like “the voice of reason”, or “the little voice in the back of your mind that tells you this is right/wrong”, come from? And the image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other whispering advice into a person's ear is a very common one, so common that I thought most people actually heard the devil and angels whispering, like I did.
Anyway, it all got to be a bit much, every person I would meet, or thing I tried, or even book I read or movie I saw, would elicit several different opinions from the voices in my head, I was beginning to have doubts about what my real opinions and such were, because my head was crowded with so many differing ones! So, eventually, I guess the voices figured that since they were all prisoners in my head, and all wanted to be top dog, they would just have their own version of the Russian Gulag Bitch Wars, and so they did.
And well, just as in the Bitch Wars, those that co-operated with the authority ( in this case, me.. it's my head after all!), prospered and survived, and those that were hostile to the authority... perished. Pity, now that I have figured out that I can hire my voices out as subcontractors, that puts a whole new angle on things!
Sadly, as I have gotten older, the voices that survived my own personal Bitch Wars, have faded away, one by one they have vanished into the multilevel miasmic maze that is my mind. Only The Texan is left, and it is probably a good thing, but if he fades away... I shall actually miss him. I somehow doubt he is going anywhere soon though.. he's a tough old coot. And at least he knows who owns the mortgage on where he lives!
But I digress.
So, knowing that I, or The Texan, was going to be paid for having to deal with this unwanted burden of having to re-do the bathroom, made me feel much better about it!
And so, as of this writing, the new tub and shower is in and functional, the new sub-floor is in as well as the new flooring. The only thing that remains to be done is the sink and counter. But that is a battle for next weekend, or at least next Sunday.
However, the past few weeks have not been entirely consumed by the Bathroom from Hell. Joanne motherschizo and I did manage to get out and see our first Roller Derby! Why a roller derby you might ask, and well, the answer is that I had never been to a roller derby, so how does one know one will not like something, unless one tries it? So, a roller derby offered itself, and thus, had to be tried!
Anyway, the roller derby was great fun, and after working on the damn bathroom for days on end, I was more than ready to watch hot women elbow, hip check, or otherwise “assist” other hot and sweaty women in leaving a roller rink!
The bout we saw was the local team, Western Mass Destruction, competing against a team from Canada, the Vixens. It took us a while to figure out the rules, style and speed of play, but once we did it was great fun! The event ended early, because the extreme heat was causing condensation on the track... but at half time, the home team Western Mass Destruction, was ahead... 108 to 37! And I think I even discovered I have a favorite “derby girl!” A cute little jammer named Chickadee struction. It always does my heart good to see a small, lithe and fast person compete, and succeed in a game where muscle and brawn are the generally accepted norm!
Here are some pics of Western Mass Destruction in a bout with the Long Island Roller Rebels if you are interested, perhaps you can get a bit of the feel of a roller derby from them.
I will most probably never be a huge and rabid fan of roller derby... but I will almost certanly attend another bout!
I think one of the reasons I liked the roller derby so much, is that it has a small fan base. The guys and women that do roller derby, do so because they love the sport! They do not wear Penzoil or Home Depot hats, shirts, socks, underwear or have lucrative endorsements. Ok, I am not sure about the underwear, perhaps someday I shall find out, but I doubt it! The men and women who do roller derby, do it not for money, but for love of the sport.
So yeah... I am winning against the Lords of Plumbing, 3-2 so far, and the home roller derby team won their battle as well! So far, so good, let the the fracas continue!
1.In case any of you missed it, here is a link to the first installment of My plumbing nightmare.
So. After being confronted by the oatmeal sodden fixtures and lump-like wad-o-directions. I did a “strategic withdrawal.” I.E I poured myself a beer, and sat and stared at the mess, considering what needed to be done. When one is going to do battle with Lords of Plumbing, one must plan ones assault very, very carefully.
As I was examining the oatmeal sodden fixtures, I heard The Texan in my head, giving his sage advice, which was.. “I think this calls fer a stick o- dynamite and a bottle a JD!”
And, I actually thought about that for a minute. The shock wave from the detonation of a stick of TNT would most likely blow the oatmeal encasement off the fixtures. But, to achieve the cleaning of said fixtures, without their destruction, I calculated I would have to place the stick of TNT... somewhere within my garage. So, did I want to blow up my garage just to clean some bathroom fixtures? Um mm... no! So, I dealt with it using a much quieter and gentler method. I used a power washer.
The issue of the waterlogged directions was also dealt with. Some of them could be salvaged, and those that could not... I downloaded and printed from the manufacturers website. Then the real assault began!
The first phase of the operation, was to remove the old bathtub. Of course, the enemy.. i.e. Lords of Plumbing, did not give up without a fight! The removal of the old fiberglass tub should not have been much of a problem. Take off the trim, remove the plumbing fixtures, remove the nails that held the tub to the studs of the house, and take the damn thing out.
Except of course, that the guy who put the tub in, is the same one who used duct tape to fix his kitchen plumbing, and his wood chopping ax. Well, I guess he figured that if you can't tape something down, it should be epoxied in place! So, yeah... he had epoxied the bathtub to the floor. Score one for the Plumbing lords!
Now, at this point in my life, there is a lot going on.. and much of it stresses me out. Everything is changing and shifting, and I really have no idea how things will end up, in any area of my life. I know how I hope things will end up, but the Universe rarely takes my hopes into account, and while change is necessary... it is also stressful.
So, when one is majorly stressed out, one usually needs a bit of therapy. Of course, The Texan chimed in again with “Bet that dynamite and hootch would be pretty... therapeutic, right 'bout now!” And while he was indeed right, I think I needed a more “hands on “ approach to my therapy. So, I went and got my 12 lb sledge hammer and a few large crowbars and some old steel chisels, and had myself a wonderfully therapeutic hour or two!
At the end of my “therapy” session, the fiberglass bathtub had been reduced to easily manageable pieces, and the pieces that had been epoxied to the floor had been chiseled off, and all of the debris had been put in the back of my car. Score one for me!
Time to put the new tub in. So, with the help of Dave ( A good friend of Marti's who is staying with us for a while), I got the new tub off the back porch and into the space where the old tub had been. Once we dropped the tub in place, I realized that the drain opening in the new tub, was 1 inch farther away from the edge of the tub than the old tub's drain had been. The old tub had been non-standard in it's construction. Score another point for the Plumbing Lords!
So, out came the new tub, and then I had to remove and replace the entire bath-drain/overflow assembly, with a newer one, which was one inch longer.
And after that, I had to convert the old 2 handle tap system to a single handle one. During that process of course, one of the ancient valves in the hot water line decided this was a fine to give up the ghost, thus creating a geyser of very hot water which did a very passable Old Faithful imitation until I could get to the main water shut off. The Plumbing Lords score again!
So.. as I was emerging from the bathroom, ancient crusty brass piping in my hand and smelling like... well, old plumbing water, the phone rang. It was of course, my mother. What is it that gives parents this almost mythical sense of “bad timing”? From walking into my room just as my friend Kay was climbing in my window clad only in her underwear ( this was during my high school years, many decades ago); to several years ago, arriving at our house one evening, 24 hours earlier than her estimate, just in time to see the coven Marti was part of at the time emerge from the temple room, sky clad ( that means naked, folks), to calling at times like this? Well, whatever it is... my mother has it in spades!
So after the required preliminary niceties, I told my mother that this was not really a great time to call, and could I call her back? She said that what she had to say was short and would not take much time. My mother, bless her heart, then went on to say that after talking to my father, she had been feeling a bit guilty for ordering all these fixtures and then leaving me to install them, so she had decided that if I wanted to hire a plumber to do the installation, she would happily pay for that as well as the fixtures.
I counted to ten. It didn't work. I counted to ten again... no effect.
Knowing I had to say something soon; with my teeth clenched so hard it would make Clint Eastwood proud, I said “ It's a bit late for that I think.”
When my mother asked why, I told her that I was going to do the plumbing myself. Well, she was all kinds of upset about that, saying how it took years of training to be come a liscenced plumber, and if I did something wrong I could end up ruining the structure of the house, etc. etc. etc. Well, after a lengthy conversation ( this always happens when my mother says it's going to be a 'short' phone call), which I shall not repeat here, my mother asked if I would at least consider hiring someone to help me with the plumbing, and that she would gladly reimburse me for whatever I paid them. At this point, I heard The Texan again say “never mind the dynamite son, how but about that hootch?”
Then, I knew I was as close to 'losing it' as I have been in a very long while. Usually, I only hear The Texan in my head once a month or so, and when I'm stressed, as often as once a week... and this made the third time in a day! Dangerous territory indeed.
And then, divine inspiration struck! I told my mom that yes, indeed, I had already hired someone who was helping me with the plumbing. Well, my mom was glad to hear that! She asked me a few questions, like was this person an actual plumber, and stuff like that. I told her no, this person was not a plumber, but he knew what he was doing, and was offering advice and suggestions. She asked me if he was a neighbor of mine, and I told her that he was originally from Texas, but lived fairly close to me now. That seemed to keep her happy, and so she asked me how much I was going to pay him.
I did a quick calculation in my head.. going rate for a plumber divided by three (cause neither me or The Texan are actual plumbers), times the number of hours I anticipated doing this project, add in a bit for “pain and suffering”, and a discount because well.. I was about to charge my parents for the advice given me by one of the voices in my head; I.E The Texan. So, after that quick calculation, I said “With what I'm going to pay him, plus parts, its going to be around $500”
My mother replied that that sounded fair, and she would put a check in the mail tomorrow for $500.
So, yeah, I just charged my parents for the services of a non-existent person, who is only a voice in my head, so therefore me... So, in other words, I charged my parents for giving me thousands of dollars worth of bathroom fixtures. Was that rude of me? I hope not, because I would do it again in a heart beat!
And so, feeling much better about this whole thing, after getting off the phone with my mother, I set to work on the bathroom with much renewed vigor and a smile on my face!
It made me sorry now, but only vaguely, that I only had the one voice in my head left... now that I have figured out I can hire the voices in my head out as sub-contractors, I sort of wish I had a few more of them, like I did back when I was a teenager.
You see, back when I was 15-18, I heard a lot of different voices in my head. Some were good, some were bad... but none of them ever told me to do things, I.E became Command Voices; they just offered commentary, opinions, advice, etc. etc, so I did not think they were a problem. I thought everyone heard voices... otherwise where did expressions like “the voice of reason”, or “the little voice in the back of your mind that tells you this is right/wrong”, come from? And the image of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other whispering advice into a person's ear is a very common one, so common that I thought most people actually heard the devil and angels whispering, like I did.
Anyway, it all got to be a bit much, every person I would meet, or thing I tried, or even book I read or movie I saw, would elicit several different opinions from the voices in my head, I was beginning to have doubts about what my real opinions and such were, because my head was crowded with so many differing ones! So, eventually, I guess the voices figured that since they were all prisoners in my head, and all wanted to be top dog, they would just have their own version of the Russian Gulag Bitch Wars, and so they did.
And well, just as in the Bitch Wars, those that co-operated with the authority ( in this case, me.. it's my head after all!), prospered and survived, and those that were hostile to the authority... perished. Pity, now that I have figured out that I can hire my voices out as subcontractors, that puts a whole new angle on things!
Sadly, as I have gotten older, the voices that survived my own personal Bitch Wars, have faded away, one by one they have vanished into the multilevel miasmic maze that is my mind. Only The Texan is left, and it is probably a good thing, but if he fades away... I shall actually miss him. I somehow doubt he is going anywhere soon though.. he's a tough old coot. And at least he knows who owns the mortgage on where he lives!
But I digress.
So, knowing that I, or The Texan, was going to be paid for having to deal with this unwanted burden of having to re-do the bathroom, made me feel much better about it!
And so, as of this writing, the new tub and shower is in and functional, the new sub-floor is in as well as the new flooring. The only thing that remains to be done is the sink and counter. But that is a battle for next weekend, or at least next Sunday.
However, the past few weeks have not been entirely consumed by the Bathroom from Hell. Joanne motherschizo and I did manage to get out and see our first Roller Derby! Why a roller derby you might ask, and well, the answer is that I had never been to a roller derby, so how does one know one will not like something, unless one tries it? So, a roller derby offered itself, and thus, had to be tried!
Anyway, the roller derby was great fun, and after working on the damn bathroom for days on end, I was more than ready to watch hot women elbow, hip check, or otherwise “assist” other hot and sweaty women in leaving a roller rink!
The bout we saw was the local team, Western Mass Destruction, competing against a team from Canada, the Vixens. It took us a while to figure out the rules, style and speed of play, but once we did it was great fun! The event ended early, because the extreme heat was causing condensation on the track... but at half time, the home team Western Mass Destruction, was ahead... 108 to 37! And I think I even discovered I have a favorite “derby girl!” A cute little jammer named Chickadee struction. It always does my heart good to see a small, lithe and fast person compete, and succeed in a game where muscle and brawn are the generally accepted norm!
Here are some pics of Western Mass Destruction in a bout with the Long Island Roller Rebels if you are interested, perhaps you can get a bit of the feel of a roller derby from them.
I will most probably never be a huge and rabid fan of roller derby... but I will almost certanly attend another bout!
I think one of the reasons I liked the roller derby so much, is that it has a small fan base. The guys and women that do roller derby, do so because they love the sport! They do not wear Penzoil or Home Depot hats, shirts, socks, underwear or have lucrative endorsements. Ok, I am not sure about the underwear, perhaps someday I shall find out, but I doubt it! The men and women who do roller derby, do it not for money, but for love of the sport.
So yeah... I am winning against the Lords of Plumbing, 3-2 so far, and the home roller derby team won their battle as well! So far, so good, let the the fracas continue!