Wallpaper paste de-conjuration
Captain's log: Day 6,351,287. I have survived great olfactory evil. Why did it not occur to me that chemical solutions strong enough to denature wallpaper paste were strong enough to cause a queasy stomach - until after the fact? Why do I always manage to find the slowest cashier at a Wal-Mart on any given day? Why does Edmund persist in giving Tenzing unprovoked bites to his ass?
I don't hate the bathroom yet. Pretty fishtank. Lovely fishtank. I also don't hate wallpaper. I just hate the paste that holds it to the nearest wall.
Wallpaper paste does not react well to standard negotiation tactics. I have nothing it wants, so it ignores me and continues holding on to both sheetrock and wallpaper. I regret that it has forced me to resort to violence and chemical warfare, but what must be done, must be done.
I'd had shiny happy plans of moving on and starting to work on the master bathroom, but after my rigorous porcelain prayer session invoked by the scent of wallpaper stripper, I'm suddenly finding other chores that need my attention between now and dragon*con.
I survived the Bathtub Balancing Chore (ladder in tub, domesticat on ladder, paint can in one hand, brush in other hand) with only minor wobbles and rushes of adrenalin. It was, however, with great pleasure that I removed the shower curtains from their iniquitous relationship with my new sweaters and placed them back in their rightful places atop the tub.
The cats are still annoyed. They walk past their food bowls - which we've placed in the hallway so that they don't have to enter the bathroom for food - into the bathroom, where they present us with the It Smells Bad In Here face and demand to know where their food is. We're not sure who got the brightest kitties in that litter, but heaven help the other owners if we did.
Tomorrow shall consist of me balancing on the vanity while attempting feats of wallpaper paste de-conjuration while attempting not to kill myself by falling off said vanity. We still have to move the toilet and the mirror so that this job can be completed.
It will be completed, and soon. I will love it when it is done, when I have poured the excess paint into a tiny tub for storage, when I have stowed my exacto knife and thrown out the last of the used masking tape, when the blue on the walls is even at last and the shaved-off pieces of ex-wallpaper are evicted from my house.
Until that time...may my scraper stay clean and the fumes avoid my nose.