Monday, January 19, 2015

Photographic Evidence

I promised.  Pictures, people, pictures - I have photographic proof that Larry is a madman, taking a perfectly good house and ripping it to shreds.  I give you Exhibit A:

The living room pictured above used to be habitable.  Note the new look of distressed cinder block and hanging wires.  Looks like a good place to brew meth, right?

And Exhibit B:

Dining room - formerly known as a pleasant place to gather for meals or a game of cards, or occasionally as a good spot to take out my sewing machine and swear while attempting to sew on Scout patches. No more, my friends! Larry's design scheme of stacked insulation and attractively draped plastic tarps cleverly precludes any social or creative events from taking place in this area.  Have I mentioned he does not enjoy playing card games?

Here's Exhibit C, for good measure:

An erstwhile cozy nook in our living room, wherein resided an overstuffed Ektorp armchair with matching ottoman.  It is now a staging ground for all Larry's tools and other implements of destruction, apparently in a passive-aggressive effort to campaign for an honest-to-God workshop. Oh, wow, is that my beloved IKEA dining room table being used as a workbench?  Lovely.

This, fair readers, is what I signed up for, lo, many years ago, when I said "I do."  For better, for worse, for home reconstruction mania?  I must have missed that last phrase.  Or maybe I felt that love could conquer all.  Who knows?  I was but a wee lass of 28 when I uttered those words.  What did I know of drywall or insulation or even baseboards at that age?  Nothing, I tell you, nothing.  There should be premarital counseling for this sort of thing, don't you think?


  1. I have projects I need done, if he still is feeling in a destructive mood, send him over. My hubby won't let me do it.

  2. A good place to brew meth? Ha!
    I saw that photo of the tools and immediately thought, "Wow. Is he trying to send a passive-aggressive message by using her table to hold his tools?" :)

    Good luck getting your rooms back!

  3. I would have to move out until it was done, especially if my dining room table was pressed into use. It's not that special, but it was my mother's table.

    I have a bottle of wine in my car and I will meet you at the airport.

  4. Holy crap, he really gutted the hell out of your living room. I hope it's all worth it in the end.

    1. We still have the paint color discussion to endure. Pray for us.

  5. We gutted the old laundry room last summer. I still need to finish the last 2 layers of joint compound, sands between coats and paint, also decide what flooring I want to install there. But, all the clean laundry baskets are stashed in there, as my children and hubby refuse to sort laundry and put away their clothes and I got tired of them being left all over the living room. I have tools piled on top of my grandmothers buffet cabinet in the dining room, my kitchen sink was torn out 6 weeks ago, then we found out the reproduction brackets for my new to me 1947 cast iron double sink with integrated drainboards are not the ones we need, but it's been 2+ years since I ordered them so I can't return them. I need to stop by the welding shop downtown to see if they can bend the middle of the brackets to match the notches in the back of the sink. Meanwhile one dishwasher is temporarily connected to my laundry sink, so I can wash most dishes easily. The projects never end on a 100+ yr old farm house. I wonder if I can talk hubby into relocating the kitchen door, so I can have a better placement for the cabinets? Next summer, when my dad can help us! :P

  6. Hmm. There has to be a happy medium. Mine never rips out walls, but does occasionally have an attack of model trains all over the place. (Currently, the basement, his office and the floor of the library, where they were pulled out to entertain a visiting toddler a week or two ago.) OTOH, when I mention a long-established plan of ripping out the living room carpet and replacing it with hardwood, he give me a look and says, 'or--we could do nothing!'. (Which is his mantra for not getting into things he think will be long, difficult, tedius or all of the above.)