Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Destructo-Gal, That's Me!

Sunday, husband had work-obligations, in the form of car stuff.  He'd started stripping up the tile in the master bath, but it was only that one row, and it was mostly to get the tile out of the way so he could work on the shower.  There was always the "I need to strip up the tile so the tile guys can come" sentence floating in the air, but there was always something more pressing to do.  I secretly sensed that he didn't want to do it.  So, being the magnanimous (and humble, let's not forget humble) person that I am, I offered to help out.  His response?:

"It's too hard."

Me: "What's hard?  You use the vibratey-thingie (official term) until it pops up."

Husband: "Well...that's hard on the body.  Plus you have to bend over and stuff.  AND it's not just the tile, you have to get up the tile adhesive too."

Me: "So?  I can do that."

Now, husband knows me.  He knows if he says (or even implies) 'you can't do that, you're a girl', that the conversation is over, and I will be doing whatever he says/implies can't be done just because I have boobs and less muscle or whatever.  So, he very wisely treaded lightly here, and appropriately deflected the conversation with talk of cars or Mexican food or whatever. 

So when Sunday rolled around, and he was leaving, I was all, "Don't we need to strip the tile?"  And he's all, "Yeah, I'll have to do it when I get home."  Despite having "painting the other bedroom" on the agenda, I offered to help out.  I got a pregnant pause, and then ".........if you want........"

We were done.  It was happening.  I gave him an "Okay, I'll do what I can" and then distracted him with talk about how to use a belt-sander on the horrid walls/ceiling, so he'd think that's what I was going to work on instead.  Then, after he left, I promptly put on my JackHammer Jill hat (metaphorical, I wasn't wearing a hat - see below) and got to work.


I demonstrated to myself that it was extremely easy.  I popped the first tile and it cracked with ease. 

I felt a sense of accomplishment unlike no other.  My arms vibrated with joy (or it's possible that was just the residual from the tool, whichever).  The first five or six made me feel as if I was SHE-HULK! 

Destruction is fun!!
I was riding the horse of "Suck that, Husband, for thinking I can't do this!!" until I got to about....here:

I won't say that I admitted defeat.  My internal tomboy defied husband, or any person with man-parts, to tell me I couldn't do a damn good job at this and do it just as efficiently as any other equally-untrained boy.  (Nevermind that at no point did husband ever actually imply I couldn't do it.  He just didn't want me to, because I'm a delicate flower, or a lady, or whatever.  Insert tomboy snort here.  Yes, that was totally ladylike.)

Anyway, he was right in that it's totally hard.  Like, thumbs-don't-work-anymore, back-hates-me, blisters-and-calluses on hands hard.  And it's not just the destruction.  It's knocking out the tiles, then hauling them off, then jackhammering off the adhesive, then vacuuming it up, then jackhammering again because you missed some adhesive, then vacuuming it up again, then starting the process all over again.  So I mean, I won't lie.  I had to stop and rest about four times.

But I knocked that effing bathroom tile on its arse.

Finished product

I could post a million pictures of the progress shots I took, but they were more for my own appeasement than anything else.  But I will show you an example of what I mean by evil-adhesive.  Here's a shot of post-ripped up, post adhesive-destroyed, post-vacuumed leftover adhesive:

You can see the spots where I mowed it off around it, but that was a particularly resilient spot.  But, as you can see in the above photo, Taylor destroyed this adhesive.  (With her mind.)

So I was so proud of myself for finishing so quickly (it took me about five hours to do all of it, but that included stopping a handful of times, and meticulously vacuuming and revacuuming), that when I finished it all, I decided to continue working.

Toilet/half-bath part
And here is the remains of my conquest!

Suckit, Tile!
So Monday while I was at work, husband knocked out the (very small by comparison) hallway tile:

And I was apparently still drunk with power from my jackhammering adventures, that I decided to destroy the kitchen while he finished up the shower.

Rare shot of Jackhammer Jill in her native environment.
However, someone had to dampen my mood by telling me that we needed to rip up the quarter-round from the baseboards in the kitchen.  These would be the baseboards that I just painted.

*whimper*
Now-In-Need-of-Paint
Y'all, I almost cried.  Sigh.  I nominate husband for baseboard-painting duty once the tile's all in again. 

In any case, despite trying desperately to quit at 10pm, husband forced me to persevere until I was finished (around midnight).  And that sucker is done now.


Now all I need to do is haul it off, kill all the adhesive, and vacuum.  Then wash, rinse, and repeat.

(PS - The fridge and stove are in the living room.  Chic!)

(PPS - We have an inordinate amount of beer in the house for people who don't drink beer.  Apparently our friends bring it over and then don't drink it, then leave it for the next time they come over and don't drink it.)

5 comments:

Jessica said...

I can't believe you're doing that in flip flops! Protect your pretty toes, crazy woman! Tile shards hurt!

Also, just offer beer to friends who come over to help! I can't imagine any of your husband's friends NOT taking you up on that offer.

You should totally do a video tour once you're done.

:D

ileeyah said...

I agree, I want video tour.

Also, YOU DA (WO)MAN!

Lori said...

Can I just say..."I am sooooo effing proud of my baby!!!!!" You have grown to be the badass that I always knew was in you!!! Wiping the tomb-boy mama tear from my eye! Suck it, you wussy guys!!!! LOL!!!!!! Rock on, Chick!!!!!

Lori said...

...or should I say, "Rock on, dude!!!!"

Mrs. Clark said...

Jess - I should totally do a video tour! And I'd be happy to bribe people with beer, but they have to come over to help first. :) And I took your advice and wore real shoes the next day...and then got a nail stuck in my toe. Fail!

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