The day after the shopping and downspout installation day, we decided to demo the ugliest ceiling in the house as well as a beat to hell floor. Let me remind you of it's beauty... it was a dropped acoustic tile ceiling with... wait for it... rolled-on cottage cheese OVER that. Held together in many places with... wait for it... duct tape. Oh the creepiness. Anyway, here we are mugging for a self portrait.
Here's the ceiling coming down. So crispy. So shimmery. So cancery (I'm guessing). It occurs to me now that we should have been wearing the organic vapors masks and not the useless dust masks. Oh well. I guess the fact that it was a hundred and fifty degrees in the room pickled our brains. Feel free to enlarge for a horror closeup.
Sadly - this plaster ceiling is sort of beyond salvaging. But God help me I don't want to deal with tearing another one out. We will probably put either drywall, bead board or tin on top of it and just leave it there. In a million years of course cause it's so low on the list of pretty shite I wanna spend money on.
Anyway - next we tore out the worn down pine floor. There had been several reconfigurations of this room and so the wood flooring was only partial. Some spots had fancy linoleum. Yep it was dreamy. Regardless, my father was deeply pained by this and went on record as saying he was against it's removal. Duly noted Dad. Now admire the gorgeous wide plank subfloor. I Loooove it.
What I didn't love? Pulling out the three thousand couture nails that were holding it in place. What's a couture nail you ask? Well check it out people. Every nail in this floor was handmade by a blacksmith. They are all square head and very gorgeous in their old-house-porn kind of way.
I collected them all. Seemed like the right thing to do. I think they should probably stay in the house like some kind of religious relic.