The minute Dad walked into the house, he studied the ceiling.
“Is that wallpaper on the ceiling?”
“I think so, yeah,” I said.
“Who wallpapers the ceiling?”
“I don’t know. I wonder if they’re trying to hide something.”
Turns out the wallpaper is some sort of…covering? Coating on drywall? Bridging material? After trying to remove a bit of the Whatever, we realized we were going to have to rehang the entire house if we went after the Whatever. Dad also pointed out the nails pops that Good Man and I never noticed.
Instead of rehanging drywall, Dad attacked at the walls and ceilings.
He fixed a missing patch of something in the dining room.
Missing Patch in the Dining Room
He fixed peeling, unmudded drywall tape all over the house. It was in the dining room closet, the main floor bedroom (office) closet, the hall ceiling, and so on.
He also removed the old shelf supports from the dining room closet. The dining room used to be a bedroom, and we won’t reinstall the shelves.
He took down the tracks for the closet doors in the office and dining room since we don’t have the doors and will never hunt down matching doors.
Peeling, Unmudded Drywall Tape in the Corners
Finally, Dad smoothed out the door frame in the dining room where the hinges and strike plate had been. We’re not going to put a door on the dining room, so he made it look like there was never a door there.
He also noticed that nails were working themselves out of the drywall at certain points (nail pops). Turns out whoever put the drywall up used the wrong nails. He went around the house, screwing the drywall into place. Of course, one fixed nail pop caused three more to appear…
He also remudded some poorly done drywall seams in the ceiling.
Since nobody will notice this work after the walls are painted, here is proof of what was done!
Luckily, the upstairs bedroom walls are almost entirely plaster. There is one crack that needs to be repaired (although it will crack again), but very few nail pops!
While Dad was fixing nail pops, I removed screws, nails, and doors. I dug anchors out of the walls, took down ugly square clothing rods, removed a mirror, and cursed the previous neighbors for painting over everything.
In short: I learned to love a painter’s 5-in-1 tool.
This Had to Go
I also learned to love my pry bar.
The house was built in 1950. The doorways are narrow. The hall is narrow. The stairs are narrow. And the basement stairs have no banister.
The basement stairs did, however, have this lovely death-trip-inducing threshold. I feared trying to navigate these stairs with an armful of laundry.
So I killed the threshold with my pry bar.
I Will Kill You
Drats, You Killed Me