Remodeling a house

HGTV - all the shows on this channel are lies. If you watch this channel and are sitting drinking a nice cup of tea watching Debbie Travis do miracles on some house in Toronto - it's always in Toronto or Montreal, never ever do you see her drive her little truck through the Prairies. I am sure she has done homes in Vancouver but I bet that she has had that little truck of her transported on her private jet, so as not to have to travel through the prairies. Now if you are delusional enough to actually believe that you can do some of the things she does in the time period she does for the show and want to start a project, believe me in real life there is no way to cut and edit out the bad things and let me tell you there are many bad things that happen when you are fixing up a house yourself to sell, things that Debbie or Holmes on Holmes (whose Carharts are never dirty) will never share with you, but I will because I am in the middle of this living hell.

Sure you might have a hard time believing me because I did stick metal in my mouth when it was 20 below. But there are certain things I would never lie to you about and these words I shall speak to you are the truth.

Let's start with the type of house you are living in. I am living in a wartime house. Lovely hardwood floors underneath some orange carpet, that is covering some really ugly fake brown brick looking linoleum that is covered by wait, is that more white ugly linoleum, why it is, no wonder the doors don't close. After about a week of scrapping and crying and you really begin to relate to the Cinderella Story, this could be due to the fumes you have been huffing from the stuff that that is supposed to be environmentally friendly for a couple of weeks that you use to scrap the most likely asbestos invested motherfucking ugly linoleum off the floor. Listen pot is environmentally friendly too, but I don't see that shit legal, except for the Netherlands and we all know that without drugs how would you convince people to continue to walk around in wooden clogs eh?

So you find the hardwood floors and it doesn't fill you with as much joy as you expected, this could be because you aren't huffing that shit anymore and most of your brain cells are gone, which is perfect for the next project you are about to embark on: Drywalling.

In the states we call it sheet rock, but that is because we have rocks to climb in Washington and they don't have any here so they call it drywalling.

First you have to rip out all the old drywall which isn't hard since they guys who put it up were so fucked up on the glue they were sniffing from putting the wood down that they missed half the time with the nails. This job isn't bad, because you might be a bit pissed off and this helps get the anger out, tearing out walls. Suggestion that you wear heavy shoes, because nails go through tennis shoes. Which makes you even more angry and then you have run out of walls to rip out or solvent to sniff.

When putting up new dry wall, always measure twice and cut once. You do it the other way around and well, you are fucked. It is important not to put on the mud too heavy. Cause the more mud you put on, the more you have to sand it bloody shit off. Things to remember about sanding.

Those masks you wear to keep the dust out of your lungs - you have to replace then at least once per room, or they become dust collectors and become tools to keep a steady supply of dust traveling into your lungs.

This might be a no brainer to some, but remember I have been doing a lot of stripping of floors - putting your contacts in and then sanding right underneath the area to be sanded, isn't probably the best idea. See sand underneath contact lenses, cuts, and cuts and cuts. Which you don't notice since you have been sanding for oh let's say about 5 days now with sand paper. When you fold sandpaper you have a rough surface against your finger pads as you are pressing down to sand the dry mud. After 5 days of this process you realize - fuck the FBI cause now they can't get you, cause you FUCKING DON'T HAVE ANY PRINTS LEFT ON YOUR FINGERS. All you have are cracked bloody stubs.

Next you have the real estate agent come to the house. And she says an amount that you want to scoff and laugh and scream at her at, because based on the amount of pain and suffering X number of brain cells destroyed you think the amount should be closer to a billion fucking dollars - US dollars by the way. You will be saddened to find that your time and hours put into the house are not worth as much as you envisioned.

After a fruitless search for more stripping compound you hear the words that send your soul into a very dark place that is full of screaming and retching.

In one weeks time the house is going up for sale and it is my responsibility to keep the house totally clean all the time forever.

I thought sanding one room forever would be my idea of hell, but no this is it. This means, dusting - fuck, washing and putting the dishes away every day. Vacuuming every day. Double fuck on that one and here is the freakiest one of them all - making the bed.

If you can get through this entire experience and still believe in a God then I say right the fuck on. Hey Terrorists - bring it on, if you think you can do anything that fucks with me more then is I would like you to try.

Excuse me while I try and take my contacts out of my bloody eyeballs with my bloody stubs of fingers.