I’ve found all kinds of evidence of cost cutting here at the Estate, perpetrated by contractors, handymen, journeymen and bums who may have been “going through rough patches”, trading services, or simply drunk on the job. Scavenged, straightened nails, scrap lumber joined to form studs, leftover wire joined by junction boxes doubling back and forth through walls where it could reach the farthest. THis kind of thing is so common now that I’ve factored in the added cost of redoing everything I touch, and my SOP is to gut everything to the bones so that I can fix everything possible.
With that in mind, I had to pull a section of floor underlayment out in order to install a wall between the bathroom and the office last week. As I started levering out the fibrous board, I realized the floor tile installers were probably the only professionals ever to enter the house, because they used approximately three metric tons of ring shank nails to hold everything down. Now for a little tool edumocation: Ring shank nails are specially designed with threads along the body to go into wood and stay there, offering twice as much withdrawal resistance than an average nail of the same size. This makes them specially suited for jobs like floor underlayment, where thousands of pounding feet over the course of years on the corner of a board will eventually work the average nail loose, leaving a maddening squeak in its place.
I’ve had experience, too much experience, with ring shank nails. They were used elsewhere in this house but applied with a fraction of the brio evidenced here: one nail every two inches, and on sixteens (every foot and a half, following the floor joists). Using a hammer to pull them is a joke, because they’re designed to go in but not to come out. The heads shrivel and wilt like flowers in August drought, leaving their sharp stems sticking defiantly out of the wood. Of course, they can be driven below the surface with a hammer and a punch, but they have little or no shear (side to side) strength, so more often than not they’ll bend or twist with one good hit. And if the floor has a date with the sander, the law of averages says they’re going to shred a few belts.
My Dad had an old, blackened tool in his collection I always assumed was (and used) for snipping wire, but it was only recently that I learned of its purpose. End cutting pliers have a misleading name, because their primary design is not for cutting, it’s for pulling. It’s a blunt, wicked-looking tool with a shallow bite and a wide, curved jaw, designed with the same efficiency as a pitbull: It grabs the shank of a nail right below the head, and does not let go.
The curved edge is a lever very close to the fulcrum, which provides more focused power than a hammer and doubles to hold the jaw closed as that little SOB comes out. If, by some chance, the nail gives way before it comes out, a squeeze on the handle will snip the head as close the floor as you can get it. A tap with a punch will drive the remainder into the wood below sander depth.
I had to do some sleuthing to find a new one, because your average Home SuperStore doesn’t carry them (or, at least, their websites don’t) and I’ve got better things to do than wander the aisle of a Tool Corral trying to find where a stoned 17-year-old hid them last year.
I found mine at the local Ace hardware in under two minutes, and after I got it home I was pulling ring shank nails like daisies. I bought the 8″ Ace store brand for $13. Buy something large enough to fit comfortably in your palm, because if your job is anything like mine, you’ll be pulling nails for a long afternoon.
Last night, we threw the switch on our new lights—well, both switches. This marks the first working three-way switch in the entire house. We also have eight working outlets to choose from, instead of one. Halleleujah!
Unfortunately, our sleuthing uncovered more asstacular wiring in the basement. My electrician says the strange arrangement of cable runs and junction boxes points to lazy work by contractors of questionable pedigree—they used scrap wire rolling around in the back of the truck instead of using new runs. So our bill will get larger as he replaces the fire-hazards, but I’ll sleep better at night knowing the house won’t burn down when I plug a lamp in the odd socket in the dining room.
I had to build a new partition wall for the bathroom two nights ago so that he could install outlets and switches, something that I haven’t done in a long time. All of my measuring and re-measuring worked out perfectly, though: the walls are square and true with each other, thank god.
So there’s new ceiling joists on the porch as of last week. As we puzzled out how to set the whole thing up, the true picture of how off-level the porch frame actually is came into focus. As illustrated by the picture below, the tops of the windows aren’t square, level, or in line with each other, which will make installation of new windows tricky and time-consuming. And speaking of tricky and time-consuming…
A portion of my Saturday was spent yanking and widening the old doorframe to the porch in preparation for installation of a new exterior grade French door, which will allow light to pass through the space and keep the heat inside the office space. Eventually this will be an outside door when the other side of the porch gets opened up. Hanging doors is one of my least favorite occupations besides wrestling feral badgers and shoveling bison poo, but hanging a pre-hung unit takes about 95% of the pain and suffering out of the process. It’s not the most beautiful of doors (we can’t afford the pretty ones), but it was inexpensive and it’s level and it shuts perfectly. And that’s good enough for me right now.
Today our electrician is back for Round One of electrical fun, where he kills one circuit to yank some ancient, crumbling wire, and a light on the other side of the house goes out. I shit you not: we killed a circuit on the north wall of the front porch, and two lights on the west side of the basement went dead.
When it’s done, we’ll have two separate baseboard circuits in the office for all the equipment we’ll have running there, six recessed lighting fixtures with three-way switches at each door, and six data drops. That way we’ll allow power and connectivity for any possible reconfiguration of the space. The skylight is still in the “possible” category, but it’s not a done deal yet, based on pricing and weather. (Having already cut a hole in the roof my previous house, I can testify that it’s possibly one of the most anxiety-laden remodeling jobs out there).
One thing at a time.
Update: There will be no skylight. Too much hassle, not enough time. Plus, I’d rather spend the money on good windows.
Yesterday I was lucky enough to have Mr. Scout stop by with air-powered tools and a method for leveling the ceiling, which involved more demolition and a lot of joist hangers. In about five hours, we (well, he and his working partner) hung most of the rafters while I demoed the rest of the bathroom wall and hauled debris. Words cannot describe my gratitude.
We’re back on the air with DSL as of this afternoon; the nice technician called my cellphone from the pole and asked me how many lines we have in the house. Apparently the wire that was supposed to be hooked up to a certain part of the panel was not; the reason for the outage is still unexplained. Whatever the case, I don’t care—I’m sick and tired of Panera.
There’s been little progress on the porch since Saturday other than a long session with the shop vac, which makes working in there much more enjoyable. I have a pile of fresh new lumber and an itch to start rebuilding, but I need a consult before I can get started.
What a frickin’ disaster. I’m going to be hanging lots of new studs and beams this weekend, and become intimately acquainted with the laser level. Good times.
Last night I was given a very appreciated hand by Clifford’s dad Dave in demolishing the last portion of the ceiling, bagging the insulation, and removal of the huge air conditioner hanging off the back porch. However, the weatherpeople on the teevee lied to me and said it would be sunny today, which it’s…not.
This is the result of another five hours spent on the front porch yesterday. Half the ceiling is gone. The drywall around the front doorway is down, and there are twenty contractor’s bags full of blown fiberglas insulation waiting to go out on the truck.
I’m taking a break today, because my ass is kicked.
Looking in towards the bathroom. All the drywall is down, and the studs between the bathroom and the front room are completely gone.
Looking towards the front door from the far corner. There’s only a short section of drywall on the walls left to remove, and then the ceiling comes down. Have I mentioned how much I hate blown fiberglas insulation?
I’ve hauled, at a conservative estimate, a ton of debris with Clifford (If the two truckloads I hauled with Mr. Scout equalled 3/4 ton, the three truckloads I moved on Friday and Saturday have to be at least a ton) and for his continued indulgence I have to say THANK YOU, DAVE.
Last night I was out in the office until 10PM demolishing everything I could see. The good news is that there’s pretty pine flooring under the carpet all the way from the bathroom to the front door. The bad news is that I have at least two truckloads of debris to haul out, and it’s supposed to rain today and tomorrow.