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Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Three days of week two--the bathroom

Make it snappy; they're back and I'm in a hurry to leave!


Monday, sub-floor and wallboard.


Monday evening, my friends, the nightlight and the toilet.
It's there.


Tuesday morning.
Sailor take warning.
Snow by Friday.


Meantime, back in our cozy bathroom and little hall,
Mudding and skim coating the walls.


 Serious sanding going on here.


And lots of venting.


Tuesday afternoon.
Jim's goal for the day, lay the tile.
This is a little demo to show me I really didn't want my tile long way.
You can't make a 6' x 8' bathroom look like anything except a stubby bowling alley.
Width wise it is.


Beautiful!


"You can't walk on it," Jim and Michael both said, and for fun Michael crossed the duster in front of the door for the night.


This morning I found one of Toby's leaves on the tile.
Don't tell him what to do!


Wednesday (today!)
Priming the walls.


The bead board!


Treatment of the shower riser.
This was the whole Plan A, Plan B shower plumbing issue.
Instead of sitting on the floor with a three inch lip the base is on a three inch platform, so the shower drains properly (for the first time in 26 years).
To sit on the floor the drain needed moved, but where it needed moved to is a heating duct.
Old houses!
No grout in yet; that will happen after the paint.


Michael installed all the bead board today.
There was an emergency run to the lumber store, as you can tell.
My toilet has been reset, again.
Jim's stockpiled wax rings, just for me.


Jim says they will be done Friday,
So Good Night all
Until the reveal.


Monday, October 27, 2014

Socks of many colors


I gave up the search for good cotton socks for summer some years ago, when I realized I could knit them. Not as easily as purchasing socks, but in the absence of decent socks, my last resort.

The idea actually came to me in a JoAnn Fabric store, not the ideal source of sock cotton. I went up and down the yarn aisles, and found nothing smaller than dishcloth cotton. I took a trip down the crochet cotton aisle, and was completely unimpressed with the current offering. Where is the fine DMC, eight ply, 30 weight my grandmother taught me with? Do they even make it?

I rounded a corner into embroidery floss. There on an end cap was a sampler packet of DMC floss, eight strands. I bought two sampler packs of primary colors , fired up the number two double points and made a pair of socks.

The first sock I knit from the top of the sampler to the bottom, the second from the bottom to the top.  One might argue they met in the middle, but only I knew that. No one even noticed one sock was half the rainbow, the other the other half. This was fifteen years ago, before mismatched socks were sold on purpose.

No, people just said “Nice socks!”

Except one little boy.

Somewhere in public a child screamed. I looked around and saw a small boy, clinging to his mother, pointing at my socks and screaming. His mother tried to turn him away, he couldn’t quit looking and screaming “Her socks don’t match.”

Eventually his mother picked him up and carried him off, but he continued to hang over her shoulder, wailing and pointing.


He couldn't have had a bad Dr. Seuss experience; it must have been a clown.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

One sock recovered


Several weeks ago I put away my summer socks and brought out the winter socks. I have a sock affection like some people have a shoe affection (which I used to have). My socks have to be all cotton or all wool, and no elastic. None. Zero.

Wool socks are easy. I knit them. Cotton, extremely difficult to source. I spent a lot of time looking for the perfect cotton sock. Not too thick. No elastic. The brand I used to buy disappeared. That happens with bras, too. Good ones disappear in one fashion cycle, to be replaced by the newest version of feminine figure.

Why couldn't I find a nice, thin cotton sock, like the Buster Browns I remembered? Buster Browns! I tracked them down in a flash; they’re still available. In packs of six! That’s a marketing device. Weeks come in sevens, why not socks? I purchased two packs of six, each rather expensive. But, they were made in America, and I wanted cotton socks without elastic.

All went well the first year or two; my socks had a mate each week, the tops folded nicely and away to the closet. Even if I came up one sock short, I could find it in the underwear, or stuck to a shirt. But one day, I couldn't. It was nowhere. Eventually I blamed the cat, and stuck the lonely white sock to the back, just in case. In more than a year the mate has not come back.

The week I washed my cotton socks for the last time before putting them up for winter, one was missing. This time a beige sock. After shaking down the laundry I moved out every piece of furniture in the bedroom, the better to look under. And clean, while I was there.

No sock. I retraced steps, scoured the laundry room, no sock. The beige single joined the white single several weeks ago.

As soon as I walked into the laundry room today, I saw it. The beige sock, crumpled against the wall. I cannot blame the cat; he won’t go into the basement.

My sister had a complex theory once, that missing socks hitched a ride with the towels, and once in the towel drawer made for the black hole vortex at the back, anxious to join the universe of missing objects. I was about to give socks that much credit. That is, until the beige sock lay crumpled on the floor. Could it have been spit back?