In the world of eighty year old homes lived in by eighty year old people, there is only one sure way to get rid of a Smell. Throw out the carpet, and paint every wall you can reach. Then find a ladder and paint all the rest (including the ceilings).
I don’t care how many candles you light or how many gallons of febreeze you saturate the air with, getting rid of a capital “S” smell takes 100% commitment to banish the origin of it, even if that means peeling up stick-tiles from the basement bathroom that had a leaky toilet. (Ugh. Gag me.)
Anyway, my “big plan” going in to this whole home renovation thing was to get the kitchen done first (granted at the time The Plan was formulated… I didn’t know there were going to be bathroom issues.) I figured, as long as you have a kitchen, you can eat. As long as you can eat, you can survive. Let me just tell you… it is January 10th 2005, my kitchen is still not finished. Well under way, but not finished. Anyway, what happened to alter the course of The Plan was, well, The Smell. I couldn’t stand it; even with the carpet out of there it still smelled like… I don’t know, it just smelled off. So instead of tearing apart the kitchen, I had a priming party. Not really actually, I was content to do it all myself, but when you’re working 12 hour days at the family business, your family knows you don’t have enough time to get done what needs to be done. So one Saturday when I was painting, my grandmother showed up with her paint clothes and some buckets… and promptly called in the troops. It took me 2 days to get half my living room done by myself. In half a Saturday with Ooie, my dad, and my mom painting… I got the living room, dining room, and the bathroom primed. Not to mention after buying a dozen quarts of different shades of yellow paint trying to find just the right one, my aunt and step-mother head out to Sherwin Williams (my illicit lover, sorry Billy) with a magazine clipping, and bingo we have a match. (Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to paint the same section of wall over and over and over again with slight variations of the color yellow trying to find the perfect mix of aged-glow and warmth without searing your retinas? Just, trust me.)
So in about a day, my house was transformed from off-white and skin-tone brown, to Bright-Freaking-White. It seriously hurt the eyeballs to walk around the house for too long, it was that bright. So of course, instead of resuming the original plan and heading back into the kitchen… and also with the addition of the perfect color of burnt-yellowish-buttercup in my greedy little paws I couldn’t help myself… I had to start painting the living room. Okay, I’ll also admit I’m a little ADD when it comes to DIY projects. I always start, like, thirty all at once, and it takes me several years to complete them all. (Okay the 2007 version of me has to act as the Voice of God again and just go back in time to this post and say to the 2005 version of me… “Girl, you have NO IDEA.”)
All of this is actually a really long winded excuse for why this…
became this (note the beautiful slate floors replacing puke-inducing carpet)…
…while I still have no doors on my cabinets, no caulk on my tub in the upstairs bath, and am sleeping on a blow-up mattress on the floor of one of the bedrooms without curtains.