Demolition Man Redux

It's time for your weekly dose of Philip. Please note side effects may include nausea, drowning, and Dutch Elm Disease.

Before we get too far, just wanted to point out that we're on top of our banner switch! It's March now which, in Winnipeg, means that spring is here! winter will occasionally tease us with some above-freezing temperatures, but we'll still realistically have snow on the ground when April hits. Which is why our banner is featuring Concetta, our once-busty snowwoman, and our biggest March point of progress, our new blinds (showing off their cool top-down/bottom-up capabilities).

But on to the topic at hand.

If you read regularly, you've heard a lot about our bathroom renovation, and more specifically how it's been stalled. But we haven't taken the time to detail the work that has been done. That changes today!

I titled this post "Demolition Man Redux" in honour of the inaugural Friday Phil, because gutting a bathroom is a lot like gutting a basement.
Well, not quite. I mean, it's close to the same thing, except everywhere you look there's:

• a pipe you shouldn't dent,
• a wire you shouldn't nick,
• a new window you shouldn't crack
• or a wall you have to tear out carefully so you don't put a hole in the spare bedroom wall next door.

Oh, and when you're working in there with even just two people, it feels like you're working inside a room the size of a milk crate. (Note from editor, some of us young folk don't understand this analogy)
But, apart from those 200 words, it's just like gutting a basement. It comes apart in 6 easy medium-difficulty you're-still-not-done-after-completing-them steps.

Step 1: Getting the water shut off

But seriously; step one was getting the water shut off. Our plumber came by, had a look, and in relatively short order had created a detour so water could be shut off to the upstairs bathroom and not the downstairs as this bathroom didn't have a shut off valve (hooray for not having to pee in a bucket!).

Step 2: Remove the vanity, tub, and toilet

Of these three, the most difficult was the tub. The vanity popped off with only a few nails holding it back. Once the toilet was empty and shut off, it too came off with only a couple screws holding it down. (Pro tip? No matter how much you try, there will always be a little water left in the toilet somewhere, so put it down on a tarp or towel and have some tags ready for drips during transit.) But the tub was a different story. A big metal tub bolted to the studs for 30 or so years does not come easily. With my dad's help, we were able to unhook all the pipe connections (in some cases cutting right through them), pry it off the studs, and haul the thing out our front door. (Thankfully the detached tub wasn't too heavy; definitely manageable for a team of two.) I'm pretty sure all the prying, bracing against the studs took a bit of a toll on our house; since that time a large crack has appeared in the plaster on the other side of the bathtub wall (in our side door landing).

Step 3: Remove the plaster/drywall, deconstruct the linen closet

This was dusty work, made more difficult since the broken plaster/drywall had to be hauled through the house to get it out. Plus, the walls hide these metal corner meshes that they use to put up plaster. They hide and are hard to remove, but when they finally let go, it's satisfying like getting all the glue off a granola bar wrapper. (What, that's just me? Okay, moving on...) Fortunately, taking out the linen closet was simpler, just requiring some elbow grease and a wrecking bar for leverage. Oh, and a hard hat would've helped when the one 2x4 broke and 4 feet of its nail-embedded length caught the top of my head. Escaped without a scratch, but those were a few terrifying seconds.

This is where we were at during this step...and nothing has changed. 

See ya, bathtub. 

Step 4: Replace the ceiling, a.k.a. $#!@*%

If you're asking me why the bathroom isn't
done yet, this right here is why.

So we want to put up a ventilation fan and pot light over the shower. Plus, it looked like there might be some discoloration or even mould in one corner. "Let's just re-drywall the ceiling!" We thought. "Muahahaha," our house laughed evilly.
With the help of my good friend Alan, we started carefully pulling back the drywall, trying not to puncture the vapour barrier behind it. Immediately upon discovering wood-shaving insulation and old, thin (2mm) vapour barrier, he recommended we climb up into the attic and sweep the area above the bathroom clear of insulation. In retrospect, this would have been a real pain (especially working in an uninsulated attic in Winnipeg in January), but would have probably been a faster pain than what we've ended up with.
I decided to try to preserve the existing setup, and lo and behold the wood shaving insulation (and the blown insulation our home inspection has led us to assume is on top of it) collected in the lowest spots, dragging those down further and causing the vapour barrier to pop of the joists in a few spots. Of course, now the shavings have really collected below the joist, and there's no hope of ever reattaching that vapour barrier to the joists.

Step 5: Have your wife sprain her foot and write/direct a feature-length stage production

I didn't quite fall into a burning ring o' fire, but when I write
and direct, I walk the line... Okay, I'll stop.

Just kidding. Don't do this if you want to get your bathroom done quickly and efficiently. (Though I'd fully recommend writing and directing for the stage. It's been a 2 weeks since our production wrapped and I'm experiencing withdrawal. Not quite chain-me-to-the-radiator-June-Carter levels, but close.)

Step 6: Figure out a solution to our ceiling/attic insulation issue

This is the step we're in right now.

What's the solution to our current woes? We're trying to find that out from a few experts, but I you have expertise/input/ideas, we'd love to hear them in the comments below! Of course we'll be updating you as we go, so stay tuned!

The Slowest Demolition in History

As of right now our bathroom renovation is sort of at a standstill. I've mentioned before, Philip is really busy with drama and so the gutting of the bathroom has taken a back seat. We have, however, achieved some progress and so I'll catch you up.

I'm not sure that we've ever even shared a before picture of this room. So here's a close up at what we were getting ourselves into:

Photo from before we moved in, courtesy of the realtor.

The highlights of this room were the floor with its gold sparkles, and the ivory and chocolate swirl plastic tiles. That's all gone now, and so you can use this picture as a reference when we reveal what we've accomplished.
 
We started by having a plumber come and do some work because this bathroom actually had no water shut offs, and so since we knew it would be a long project, and because it's a good thing to have, a plumber came and set up shut offs for us. After that, we removed the toilet, sink, and bathtub. Then we ripped out walls.

What's left to do:

• Take down the ceiling: For some reason we just haven't done this yet. It gets so dusty when we start, and I don't like doing it really because it takes me way longer than it would take Philip just because I'm not really a power tool user and I'm not that strong. 
• Take down the exterior wall: This wall needs to be done at the same time that we re insulate so we don't get super energy inefficient. 
• Reconfigure Plumbing
• Install bathtub
• Electrical
• Drywall
• Paint - we talked about yellow before...I'm also contemplating black. I'm shocking these days, you never know what could happen.
• Flooring
• Reinstall everything

I have no idea how long this is going to take us, but we're just trying not to burn ourselves out with everything that's going on lately, so we're taking our time. Hopefully one day we can go to the bathroom upstairs again though. Anyone else at a standstill with a major project?

Demolition Man

Today we have our first guest post, although it seems weird to consider my husband a guest since he's saddled with the as much house-renovating responsibilities as I am. If you follow him on Twitter, you'll know that he introduced my blog to his world by saying "My wife's now a reno blogger. She takes pics while I work. #needabetteragent" But he's more than muscle; he did the grunt work on the banner above, and is something of a writer in his own right. So enjoy this inaugural guest post, which may become a semi-regular feature if things go well. (That's right. I put my own husband on blog probation.) Without further ado...

Demolition Man

Hello, Grandpa Joe's House readers, and thank you for what I'm sure was a glowing intro, Cassy.

Okay, I won't lie, I wrote that too. It’s sweet, sweet revenge for every time she texts from my phone without identifying herself. (In totally-unrelated news, sorry for creeping you out, Mom.) Today I get to tell you about demolition.

As you'll have noticed from Our To-Do List, gutting the basement was originally scheduled to happen somewhere down the line, but not now. The plan was, we'd sleep in the basement for a while until we could get the master bedroom done, then move once. 

That didn't quite pan out.

In the span of a few days gutting the basement went from being a sometime-in-the-future thing to a needs-to-happen-this-weekend thing. (To make a long story short, we'd planned to swap out our boiler-powered hot-water heating system for a forced-air furnace and ductwork in the spring; however, some planned winter renos would be eased by not having to work around the hot-water system's baseboard heaters, and so we bit the bullet and moved the timetable up.) And thus began my love affair with demolition.

My prior experience with the work--nay, the art--of demolition was limited to taking off a few baseboards at our old condo. I just hadn't had much exposure to the elegant dance of devastation. So I reached out to some friends of mine who have a reputation for being destructive, and I'll reprint one subsequent conversation here:

So those are my friends. An insatiable appetite for destruction. (Crap, now I owe Axl Rose royalties.)

The day came, and more guys showed up than I expected. And they were well armed. We'd already gotten a couple of tools from my in-laws (including a dull-axe-looking thing called a maul, coolest tool name ever), but the assortment of prybars, knives, and instruments of devastation on display slightly terrified me. I was glad we'd invested in some rudimentary safety equipment: glasses, masks, and work gloves.

How did it go? Removing the ceiling was the plan for the entire evening. I had feared--based on our walls upstairs--that the basement ceiling would be plastered like a frat boy on Spring Break. And plaster ceilings from the '60s sometimes contained asbestos. I was prepared for their removal to be so slow and painful Terrence Malick would make a movie about it! Hey-oh! (What’s that? I'm being told to make my references more broad. Well, we'll see about that.)

The ceilings were in fact drywall. When my buddy’s learned this, it was like Mel Gibson teeing up an alien and telling Joaquin Phoenix to "swing away". (From Signs. How's that? Broader? Okay.) The guys attacked the ceilings with a ferocity I had only seen before in the hyenas that attack Scar at the end of The Lion King. (Everyone’s seen that one.) In 20 minutes--maybe 25--the ceiling was all on the carpet, the trusses and beams were all exposed, and the air was so choked with dust we had trouble taking a decent photo.

The success of scrapping the ceiling emboldened our crew, and realizing there was no real reason to leave the rest of the basement intact (save for the laundry room and small bathroom), we went to town on the walls and flooring. (I'd show some of the "Before" pictures here, but those definitely deserve their own post. Oh-ho-ho boy, do they ever.) We got two-thirds of the way through that before the guys had to run off to other engagements, but in a few evenings thereafter, I was able to polish off the job.

But I have to admit, I’m hooked on demolition. Since my inaugural experience, I have on several occasions donned my official “demolition sweatpants” and taken the hammer and prybar to a closet, a storage room, and even beheld the power of the sawzall (watch out world). And since I’m now an expert (branded sweatpants coming soon, ladies), here are some tips for future demolition exploits:

• A hammer, a big prybar and a sharp utility knife are really all you need for 95% of the job. I had to be reminded several times that, unless I was planning on keeping the scraps for some future project, this was about wanton destruction, not dainty disassembly. 
• When tearing out drywall, wear a mask. Even if it caused your safety glasses to fog up. Especially if you're an asthmatic. Trust me. (Unless you love that feeling where your trachea narrows to the size of a twisted drinking straw.)
• Clean up the same day. Let the adrenaline of “Hulk Smash!” carry you through the dullness of collecting it and carrying it away afterward.
•  I had expected to painstakingly remove the outlet covers and switch cover plates. Unless you're planning to reuse the same ones--and honestly, does anyone really love those almond-coloured ones that used to be everywhere?--just pull off the wall with them still on. They'll crack and come flying off in a way that is oddly satisfying, and you'll save your wrists a good chunk of time getting to know a screwdriver. I know this seems wasteful, but if you’re going to replace them anyway, I say “enjoy the pop!”
• Having a couple garbage cans around is really helpful, even if you expect to take most of the large material to the dump. Things tend to break in pieces smaller than you'd hope, and having a bin around to carry them out in is awful handy. Need a garbage can? Check around your neighbourhood. Once a week they’re everywhere! (Kidding. But honestly, how would you go about throwing away a garbage can?) 
• If you don't know if there are dangerous materials in your older home, don't take chances. Ask someone who knows. Asbestos is some nasty business.

So now we had a mostly empty, hollowed-out basement area with piles of debris ready to haul to the dump. For Winnipeggers interested, Brady Landfill was significantly cheaper ($11 for a truck bed and utility trailer) than the East St. Paul dump ($35, and it's for residents only, which they fortunately didn't confirm with me). But as mentioned previously, the demolition is the fun part; the task of cleaning up afterward is boring work that involved so many trips up and down the stairs you'd think I had a starring role in Jacob's dream at Bethel. (My Grade 4 Sunday School teacher would be so proud.)

After that, it was a matter of getting dozens of metres of pipes, eight baseboard rads, a 500+lb boiler and 40-gallon hot water tank out and the forced-air system in. But that'll have to be a story for another time--I'm sure you're waiting with bated breath. But take heart, because no telling of that story is complete without the phrases “arterial spray,” “black ooze,” and “internet love,” so it’ll be worth the wait!