Floors, Skirts, & Dijon Mustard

With cabinets out of the way, it was time to take up the flooring. I had NO idea what Father and I would find under there, but it had to go.

Check out what we found! (Drum roll please...)

Layer 1: 90s linoleum and floor board sheets

White linoleum (that of course never stayed white), followed by a layer of floor board that was HEAVILY stapled to the floor (I mean like every 2-3 inches). I guess that's more like layer 1 AND 2. Moving on...



Layer 2: 70s linoleum

The craziest rust/red/orange/cream/dijon mustard/brown floor you've ever seen! Father said it made awful flooring, but might make a nice skirt. I offered to make him one. He declined.



Layer 3: 50s-60s black & white checkered tile

Or at least I think it was white. It's pretty yellowed now. This place used to have a diner/poodle skirt/jukebox floor? Swell!



Layer 4: Weird blue stuff

This last layer was a swirl of different blues resembling marble. Strange stuff. A little like early linoleum, a little like tar paper, a lot like yuck.



Layer 5: The original sub floor sheets nailed to the diagonal floor slats

If we go any further we'll be in the basement. We better stop here.

It's funny, but the looks are pretty consistent with a makeover every 15 years: 1949, 1964, 1979, and 1994. Who knows, maybe this house had other layers that have since been removed. Maybe not. But it sounded good.

The sub floor is in surprisingly good shape, so we will not have to replace any of it.

The kitchen is looking more and more like a big empty room, and I am ready for the next phase.

Rinky-Dink Sink

OK, I lied. The sink itself isn't rinky-dink... this thing is a beast! Cast iron, double bowl, super deep, super wide--and it weighs a ton.

But the rest of it... not so good.

Father and I found a little surprise when chipping the back splash tile off: it was plastic! And not cool plastic either, because it was really thin and just snapped and broke everywhere.

The back of the plastic tiles were concave and had been filled with some kind of glue, or liquid nails, or something. What a mess. How am I going to get that off?

Well, with no effort at all Father and I just lifted the whole sink and counter top and everything right off the cabinet base. Then we gently lifted the cabinet and it came right up too... hardly nailed to anything at all.

We just kept hauling the junk outside, one piece at a time (reminds me of Johnny Cash's car). Like a good redneck I am keeping the sink and other unwanted fixtures in the yard--for now anyway.

Since the water pipes came up through the floor, then into the wall, and then out of the wall to the faucet, it took a little cutting and working to get them out. We are definitely not putting the new pipes back that way. Instead of a wall-mounted faucet I just want a sink-mounted faucet, you know, like normal people.

With cabinets, sink, sink base, faucet and tile removed, I'd say we are in the running for the Ugliest Kitchen on the Planet award. But we still have the floor to go...

And speaking of UGLY...

No More Cabinets

Most newly-built houses these days have pre-made cabinets installed in them. Not so in our house. It must have been the thing back in 1949 to build them to the wall piece by piece.

I could so easily have ripped these bad boys down in a manly fury of power tools and splinters, but I probably would have brought down chunks of plaster wall with it. Not cool!

To better preserve the walls and be less stupid I decided to use methodical deconstruction, so I sought outside help...knowledgeable help...free help.

I called Father.

We started by taking the doors off.
Then the molding.
Then that scallop-edged board thingy over the sink. What is that anyway?

The old cabinets ended up coming down just as they had gone up: one board at a time. Behind them we found naked plaster walls untouched by 61+ years of painting...

...but the fun was just beginning...

Enough Lollygagging

OK, I've covered the major issues that warrant a remodel. There are tons of additional things that need help, but they aren't major enough to mention...

...Like the bowed counter that is pulling away from the sink and letting dishwater leak on my oatmeal: manageable.
...And the chipped back splash tile, squeaky floor, leaky faucet, and faulty plumbing: totally livable.
...And having no light switch, no light over the sink, cabinet doors that won't stay closed, etc.: not even going to bring it up.

In fact, enough lollygagging. It's time to roll.

Wife and I packed everything up and moved it out of the kitchen: dishes, table, flyswatter--everything. (OK, everything but the curtains.)

We've budgeted, we've planned, we've researched.
I've mapped out our steps from A to Z.
We've identified the must-havs and listed the can-do-withouts.
Corners have been cut, money saved, sleep lost.

The only thing left to do now is to take a big swig of sweet tea...and grab a crowbar.

Bummers Part 2: "Sooo..."

I like the word "so," but I much prefer it with extra o's. "Sooo..." gives you more time to think before bringing an obvious problem to light. I've used it a lot while standing in the kitchen, scratching my head, identifying kitchen bummers.

"Sooo..."

"...there's no vent hood?"
Nope, sure isn't. And to keep spaghetti steam from dripping off the bottom of the cabinet we have to pull the stove out farther than normal. This makes it hard for Wife to reach the plates.

And the shiny cabinets and walls? That's probably fried fish vapors. Eew.

"...the microwave is always on the table?"
Sure is, which would be really cool if we ate TV dinners. I could heat it up, pull it out, and eat it, all from the seated position. But we don't, so it isn't.

"...we only have one counter outlet?"
Yep, and the stove cord must be stretched over the counter to reach it. In the shed full of stuff that came with the house I found an adapter that allows one outlet to accommodate six plugs. I chipped the mud dauber nests off of it and installed it, so now we can leave the stove plugged in, add the coffee maker and four other appliances, and trip the breaker all at once.

"...the fridge covers the back door frame?"
Yes, and it just misses the door itself by about 1/4 in. If I forget to tuck my elbows upon egress I end up raking all the missionaries' pictures off in the floor. Bummer.

"...we have zero drawers?"
Count 'em: zero. To keep silverware, cereal, and the like off the floor we use a particle board nightstand that we rescued from Paw-Paw's trash. Wife and I brought it over to this house from our first apartment, which also had zero drawers.

Thanks Paw-Paw.

Bummers Part 1: Thanks, Grilled Cheese

Ever been depressed? Try making a grilled cheese. The more you make, the better you feel (a trick I learned from Fearless Leader).

Counter space
Wife and I have 24 in. total of counter space. The 12 in. on the right of the sink is usually a landing pad for dishes, leaving the left 12 in. for the coffee pot, coffee grinder, food prep needs, etc.

"Counter"? They're more like sink flanges.

While making my last round of grilled cheeses I ran into a challenge: there wasn't enough room for the bread, plate, butter, and my individually wrapped slice of processed cheese food. In fact, our small cutting board is wider than the counter. Bummer.

Cabinet space
As you can see from the picture in my last post we have three lower cabinet doors: (1) pots/pans, (2) cleaning supplies, and (3) food. Yes, ALL the food in one.

The sink is so deep that the cabinet doors are unusually low. It is quite a feat to crawl in there for a grilled-cheese-worthy skillet, but I have a few secret ways ;). And yes, I have lain in the floor before to locate the flour. For real. Bummer

With some juggling I finally made the grilled cheese. I had been thinking about remodeling the kitchen for some time, but this sealed the deal. It was as if the grilled cheese opened his crusty lips and uttered, "It's time."

Thanks, Grilled Cheese.
And thanks, Fearless Leader.

Ah, the kitchen...

My house was built in 1949, and I'm thankful for it. Two bedrooms, a basement, an old-but-functional bathroom, and a kitchen.

Ah, the kitchen...

The kitchen has many features (and the absence of features) that create some undesirable situations. I have never once heard Wife complain, though. I'm not complaining either--that would be stupid. Like I said, I am thankful for it and will continue to be.

But, I'm also thankful for an opportunity to make some renovations (insert evil laugh here).

That's right, Kitchen: Your days are numbered.

But this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you...

First Post

This is the first post.

The End.