I guess it was inevitable, after last week's successful destruction. The grand plans we had for this weekend — finish painting the first floor, have the junk hauler pull the 200 plus pound fireplace out, demolish the hearth, makeover some sconces that were offending Matt’s aesthetic sensibilities, get our couch delivered, and maybe start laying some of the flooring in the living room — were mostly unaccomplished come Monday.
This weekend brought a mass of polar air, and brought the temperature down (and down) to the negatives. Meaning, the pipes were frozen on and off all weekend, and we were running in and out all weekend to get water, and more water, and a new space heater.
The extreme cold meant the junk hauler rescheduled, and without the fireplace gone we couldn't remove the hearth, or really start the flooring.
No problem, I thought. I’ll used this time to work on those sconces, the style of which Matt describes as a mashup of old lady and the old west (the old western lady look?).
I removed the glass shades and detached the electrics easily enough, but that marked the end of my success. These things were built to last. No amount of smashing or sawing or pliers-ing would remove those thin seeming arms meant to hold the glass shades.
Sconces 1, Emily 0.
We did do a lot of painting, and the couch arrived, so it wasn’t a total wash. I think this is the nature of renovation. It’s the thing that I learn over and over: everything takes longer than you think it will. Double or triple that if you're relying on anyone else to play a part too. It’s a lesson not just for houses, but of course, for life.
1 star. I've learned enough life lessons for now.