Restore My Sanity and My House

Cautious Kate, ready for action.

Over the last couple months of home restoration, it's become clear that there are some projects that tax you more than others. I wish I could say stripping 80 years of paint from the kitchen was only physically painful.

Erin and I began work on Dec 13th by removing the cabinets from the built-ins, removing the hardware, and applying a nasty chemical stripper (which we later learned was slowly killing us). After a few beginner's errors, we had the majority of the paint scraped away from 5 cabinet doors and 2 drawers - I'd estimate this took us at least 3 days. The lesson gleaned from this was that paint LOVES cracks and cranies, so prepare yourself accordingly. You may want to, before beginning a day's work, do some mental strength-building exercises -- maybe some meditation even -- before you take that metal scraper to that 80 year old walnut door.

We then began sanding the cabinet doors and drawers (mostly by hand, as Skil makes the shittiest 1/4 sheet sander known to man, and it repeatedly failed to get the job done) - I'd estimate this took about 5 days total. Be prepared to waste your money on this step. Why just buy one crappy sander when you can own 3 or 4? try a variety before settling on the worst one and blowing hundreds of dollars on sand paper to fit each unique aparatus.

Then we moved back into the kitchen itself, we attempted to use a caustic stripper on the baseboards and trim with very little success. Often, it would not stay in place, or go on thick enough to be effective. We switched to a more eco/skin friendly version called "Strip Away," which - after realizing you MUST cover active stripping agent with plastic - we managed to scrape off the last layers of stubborn paint and varnish. Meanwhile, the casutic stripper had been eating through the biodegradable plastic drop-cloth, chewing through the floor's varnish, and depositing multi-colored paint in a seagull shit-esque pattern on the kitchen floor. It's a real conversation starter. What's that famous quote?.. something like "every invention that solves a problem, creates 10 more problems"? YES. YES. Y-E-S. At this stage you may want to sell your house and cut your losses. So what if there are no cabinets or trim in the kitchen? It's "rustic."

"Is that poo on your floor?"

Erin bailed out and left for Singapore before the last of the paint came off, so she missed out on a lot of mental anguish (but she'd earned a vacation). Phyllis took over for her during the week preceding New Year's, and we managed to start sanding shortly thereafter. At this stage, it's important that you be honest with yourself. Ask yourself some important questions: Do you ever want to move into this house? Do you ever really want to have children? If the answer to either is "No," then go ahead and sand without drop cloths or barriers between rooms. Yes, let that dust float freely throughout your home, depositing microscopic toxins in every nook and cranny. Hell, why don't you turn up the heat and get some air movin' in there??


Dust-control measures taken 3 weeks too late...

The paint was mostly sanded away about a 2 weeks later - working with 60 grit paper on a DeWalt 5" orbital. We did a fine sand (maybe 150 grit), and called it good. Now bear in mind this project begun on Dec 12, and the paint removal alone took a month. By mid-January it was becoming very tempting to entertain thoughts of our imminent completion. But, when you think about it real hard, you're nowhere near done, are you? And soon the project is once again so overwhelming that you're completely paralyzed by anxiety. That's much better.

As with any project worth undertaking, the enormity of the task(s) was only apparent long long after the point of no return. At this point we're in the process of staining the trim, cabinets, etc. to match the window sills (which were thankfully spared from layers of chromatic abuse). So we're almost done, right...?

You may also want to consider how you will deal with friends and family during this trying time. Acquaintences are going to periodically tour your home to monitor your progress. It does not matter how frequent these visits are, they will all say the same things each time:

First, they will marvel at just how much work you have ahead of you, unaware of your imminent meltdown. "Wow, what a big job."

Second, they will thank their creator - aloud - that they are not you. "Man, that's a huge job you got there."

Finally, they will - in an effort to encourage you to perservere - tell you "it'll look great when it's done though..." And it will.



Will Work For Food... No, Really.