TUESDAY. 10:30 AM. I am tired. And I am pretty stressed out. House renovation is a mighty big task, and I'm not sure I'm mighty big enough to handle it. The crack den (as I like to refer to the townhouse) is more than a handful.

On Sunday, Alenda and I wnet over to the house and did a little light work. Mainly, we pulled up hundreds upon hundreds of staples left in the hardwood floors after the carpet was pulled up (it was a lovely purply, wine color). We didn't get them all up, but made a good start. We also prepped the kitchen for its imminent demolition. And we bug bombed the whole shebang.

Yesterday, my friend Scott and I went over to the crack den in the morning. Most of the day was spent ripping out the kitchen. The warping laminate countertop was pulled out. The sink with faulty faucet was pulled out. We discovered that the sink drain pipe was completely rusted through since it broke off in Scott's hands. It explains all the water damage to the floor under the sink. The rusted garbage disposal chucked. And the foul, foul 1970s goldenrod dishwasher taken outside.

We pulled up the lower cabinets, which might be salvagable after a good de-greasing, cleaning, and painting. There was the scurry of vermin -- totally disgusting -- it seems the bug bomb just lightly perfumed them instead of rendering them dead. Might I say that I really, really, really, really hate roaches.

Then we set to work on the floor, which was covered in approximately three layers of vinyl tile. After some grunt work, we decided that much of the plywood subflooring around the sink and under where the refrigerator sat was rotted. So, we decided to just pull up all of the subfloor. I should say Scott pulled up most of the plywood. One good thing about the house is that it was built when they still put a lot of wood into homes; there was 1 x 8 decking underneath the subfloor built on top of 1 x 12 floor joists -- amazingly sturdy. Again, there was scurrying.

Suffice it to say that the kitchen looks even more like the kitchen of a crack den. The walls are slick with decades of grease. There is so much paint on the walls that it comes up in latex sheets. The place looks like Beirut circa 1983.

Whislt the kitchen was being demolished, Skinner came over in the afternoon to help slam the basement. Shawn also came over to help. All the wood paneling on the walls (which was bowed and bubbled and soft from the damp) was ripped down. The paneling nailed to the ceiling was ripped down. And the sheets of cardboard (someone's bright idea) nailed to the ceiling above the laundry area was also taken down. The area definitely looks a lot better than it did before. There is a some water damage that hopefully can simply be cleaned up and sealed.

Our day's efforts nearly filled an entire trash dumpster with scrap and detritus. We definitely raised the eyebrows of a few neighbors. The area is predominately Hispanic and African-American. It's a little "ghetto" and not enough "fabulous." While dumping trash, Shawn was propositioned if he wanted some drugs by some of the local parking lot socialites. Like the cockroaches, drug dealers warm the cockles of my heart. In a way, it's like living in the city again.

I was a wreck last night. Scott and I worked from 11 AM to 8 PM. Nine hours with a short break for lunch at McDonald's owned Chipotle. But the process is stressing me even though it's only been a day. Logically, I know it's only going to get worse, get messier, get more wrecked before it gets better. I just hope the tide turns before I go insane.

Pictures forthcoming.

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THURSDAY. 6:29 PM. I am not cut out to be a laborer. I mean I suppose my body, my build, my genetics might prove otherwise, but I don't have the mental or emotional capacity for long days at the construction site. I suppose I could do it if I had to (like I am having to now), and I would eventually adapt. Maybe I could do it if I had the right motivation, but you would think that having a house all to my own, to shape in my image, and to enjoy without much cost to me would be more than adequate incentive. Somehow, it's not. And I'm not exactly sure why. (I hate to sound completely ungrateful. I know I am taking the fact that I have a house for granted.)

I think I just resent the fact that it has suddenly become my job to ensure that the townhouse is a liveable space, that if I want to move in I have to get the place sorted and in order. I agreed to move into the townhouse because it would save both me and my father money in the long run. I wouldn't have to hunt for an apartment downtown, and my father needn't have to keep supplementing my graduate student income just so I can make rent. Months ago when my father suggested I take over the townhouse he had said it needed a little cleaning up. Then a little cleaning up turned into redoing the floors and fixing the windows. Now that I'm actually in the space, into its innards and guts, the reality is that the house needs a top to toe makeover -- not just cosmetically, either, but to bring the thirty year-old building into the new century and at minimum up to code.

It's definitely more than a one man probject or a two man project.

Frankly, I'm overwhelmed. The house is going to consume the entirety of August to the detriment of other things I want to also be doing. I don't know what else to do really. The sad thing is that things are only going to get worse and more stressed out. Scott's availability drops off sharply after tomorrow, Friday. Most of my able bodied friends are busy with their own jobs, lives, projects; a number of them are out of town. I didn't sign up for this. I think I've already said that.

Yesterday, Scott and I finished putting the subflooring down in the kitchen. I made a run to Home Depot (whose website is practically useless and their search engine blows chunks) for some primer/sealer and some painting supplies. I sealed the plywood floor and leveled a few iffy spots with embossing leveler, a milkshaky concoction used to smooth out bumps, dips, and otherwise non-flat areas; it's blue like a Smurf and really expensive for a tiny little tub. The humidity wasn't helping. So, I had to let the floors dry overnight before putting down tile.

Meanwhile, Scott got started on patching the hardwood floors in the living room. At the front of the room is a big window and a radiator. Water from either the window or the rad or both damaged a four foot section of floor. Armed with his trusty power tools and a bundle of fresh red oak tongue-and-groove, Scott repaired the area in just a couple of hours. He did a great job; the patch looks damn good.

Since I couldn't work on the floors, I busied myself repairing the living room wall where I had pried off about a dozen and a half 12" x 12" mirrors stuck on by double-sided squares. I became one with the spackling compound. I also replaced the dropbolt lock on the front door. Then I spent the rest of the day pulling staples out of the stairs and foyer area.

We ended yesterday with the liberal sponging down of the two ratty base cabinets. I decided not to buy new cabinets. I'm just going to recycle the old ones. But they needed serious cleaning up. Of course, as we bleached and scrubbed, a small phalanx of cockroaches scurried from their hidey-holes in the cabinets. When we began receiving enemy fire, we had to strike back. The enemy bugs were destroyed.

We left the cabinets and the kitchen floor to dry.

Today, I went over to the house early on my own. I stopped at Home Depot for a couple more things before driving over to lovely Hyattsville. The subfloor was properly dry. I could start laying down tile. Ah, the joys of peel-and-stick. I picked two different kind of tile that look sort of stony -- one kind is pale gray with hints of blue and slate, the other is dark slate with bits of rust, black, and dark blue. I laid the tile in a checker pattern. Of course, eighty tiles later, I ran out before I finished the room.

Scott called me and told me that he had just spent the night in the emergency room keeping his roommate's sister company up in Baltimore. So, he was going to bed. He was not coming over to the townhouse. I was left solo for the day.

I decided to prime the cleaned-up cabinets before I trekked out to Home Depot (again). They could dry while I was out. Feeling a little jilted, I got some more tile and then went home for lunch. Mmm, cold pizza. Wearily, I drove back to the house.

I finished the tile. Used over a hundred square feet of tile. But the floor looks pretty good. Again, the humidity is an issue. I spent a good part of the next hour after laying the last piece just walking around on the tiles to make sure they securely bonded to the subfloor.

The next step was to start to put the kitchen back together. I decided to clean the refrigerator. I spent almost two hours scrubbing, disinfecting, and cleaning both the inside and outside of the fridge. Outside, it was covered in grease and stains and who knows what. Inside, it smelled like a dumpster with bits of moldered food and the carcasses of roaches. If I wanted to be totally wasteful, I would throw the whole thing out. But the fridge is practically new -- just not clean. I bleached. I rinsed. I wiped. There are details that I would rather totally forget right now. Hopefully, the fridge will be off-limits to any creepy-crawlies. I'll find out tomorrow.

Finally, I changed the doorknobs on both front and back door so they used the same key. I futzed with the drop bolt that I installed the day before because it was catching. Then my father showed up unexpectedly. I gave him a tour of the disaster and told him what I was doing; I also told him that he really needed to be more vigilant about his properties. I recommended he sell the townhouse and our other house sooner rather than later. If he cannot maintain the houses and if the tenants are bad about upkeep, then waiting to sell the house only means any profit will be eaten up by the cost of fixing everything that's gone to shit. On a final discordant note, we discovered that the upstairs sink leaks pretty heavily into the downstairs bathroom; a plumber will definitely have to be called.

I was going to stay to clean up and get everything ready for tomorrow to sand the floors. But I decided to call it a day. Eight hours was enough. Hopefully, tomorrow's job of refinishing the floors will go smoothly, quickly, and beautifully.

I need to decompress. If you haven't seen The Gamers yet, I highly recommend it for laughs, chortles, and cries of "Hey, my gamer friends are just like that!" (It has the best on screen example of character "stupid disease" ever -- when a player can't show up and their character is "around" but not "doing" anything.)

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MONDAY. 5:24 PM. My townhouse is no longer a crack den. As of this weekend, it's been upgraded to hovel. I guess it's a step in the right direction. I am still weary. My body has been sore and creaking all weekend. And there doesn't seem to be much relief in sight.

Last Friday, Scott and I got an early start. We headed over to Home Depot and rented a belt sander and an edge sander. The woman who helped us, Norma, was very nice and patient and overall cheery and friendly. We drove the equipment over to the townhouse. Scott started on the upstairs while I cleaned up the living room area. While he used the belt sander, I used the edge sander. The edge sander is a little beast of a machine. You need a bit of strength to keep it from kicking away from you or running amok across the floor. The sanding process begins with a coarse grit sand paper and then working to a very fine grit paper. All in all, it took nearly twelve hours to get most of the floors done. We had hoped to get everything finished in one day, but there just wasn't enough time or energy. I would have to keep the equipment a little while longer.

After a long day of sanding, Scott and I got cleaned up and just hung out Friday night. I had wanted to go out that night and do a little decompressing. Actually, I had planned to go to Queercore DC, a LGBT punk, ska, and rockabilly night, whose first night was that night. Suffice it to say I didn't make it. I just didn't have the energy to drive my ass into the city.

Unfortunately, Scott's free week to help me is over. Now, a lot of the work will have to be done by me solo. Hopefully, I'll be get a couple of extra hands here and there.

Saturday, I went over to the hovel early. I need to get the rest of the sanding done. I basically went over the first floor again trying to get some of the stains in the wood out. Unfortunately, they're just in too deep. At first, Scott and I thought they were just water stains. But some of them, it turns out, are grease stains -- food grease stains -- because as soon as the sander hit them, ground them up and heated them, it smelled like roasted meat. I have no idea how such stains could've gotten on the floor. But that's what makes my hovel so special -- I have a scratch-n-sniff floor.

I got all of the sanding done. I even did some of the staircase. But I had to get the equipment back to Home Depot before 1:30 PM or accrue another full day's rental charge. The floors look decent. They're not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. They are thirty years old, afterall, and were completely abused, smothered under decades of carpet, and simply neglected. Again, they won't be perfect. They won't win any home improvement awards, but I am very proud that Scott and I sanded the floors ourselves. I got the belt sander and edge sander back to Home Depot just under the wire. Norma was there and she was very helpful yet again. I was charged for a day and four hours -- under three hundred bucks for the equipment rental and all the sand paper. I think we did pretty good budget-wise.

I stopped home for lunch after dropping off the sanding tools. Then Alenda, Brian, and I went back to the house to do a little more work. I had bought a mouse sander to get the room corners and finish the stairs. Brian and Alenda worked on getting the corners sanded while I tackled more stuff in the kitchen. I cleaned the gunky kitchen walls that had been hidden behind the old cabinets and counter. I also patched a bunch of holes. Then I put up a new storm door for the front door. Four or so hours later, we packed it in for the day.

I did very little Saturday night. Alenda, Brian, and I did go out for a late dinner at Franklin's Restaurant, Brewery, and General Store in Hyattsville, MD (near College Park and in the same neck of the woods as my townhouse). I liked Franklin's when I was going to school at Maryland; it used to be this little old building down Route 1. It was renovated a few years ago and I hadn't been till last night. Now it's very fancy, loft-like, with lots of windows and a vaguely south-western feel. It reminds me of the microbrewery places in California. The food was pretty tasty -- trendy diner, comfort food, American fare (though a little on the pricy side). I also sampled one of their brews, the Anarchy Ale; it was pretty good, cloudy, a wee bitter. Our server was friendly and chatty; her name was Avis. It was a good way to end a long week.

Sunday was a day off. A total day off. I didn't go over to the hovel once (though I did think about it a lot). I had to take care of some things at home. I cleaned the apartment. I did laundry and actually put it away. And I got ready for Tellings that evening. It was a quiet day. I got to rest some. And gaming was fun.

That was the weekend. Pretty uneventful.

Today, I went over to the townhouse and tried to finish the sanding touch-ups. I finished all of the corners and most of the stairs. I have to do a little more sanding tomorrow morning (because I ran out of sandpaper). Then I should be able to lay down the wood sealer and maybe one coat of polyurethane. That will be good. I need to seal the floor before I do any other work. Right now the wood just wants to soak up any liquid that touches it. Not good.

I also worked on the kitchen walls a bit more. I took down the old range hood. It was gross. No, it was beyond gross. It used to be white but is now yellow with layers of grease. I threw it away. I discovered a handful of roaches while cleaning the cabinets. They scurried from their secret places and I zapped them with roach killer. They continue to freak me out. Heebie-jeebies. Hopefully, as I encroach upon their territory spraying and spreading boric acid, I will drive them someplace other than my house. Maybe heaven will take them.

Tonight, I rest. I sleep. I mean I hopefully will sleep since my noisy upstairs neighbors have returned. It's too bad they didn't stay on holiday for longer. Last week, I actually went upstairs at half-past midnight to talk to them. So far, it's been 50-50 as to whether or not they recall our conversation. But at least now if I get up and wail on the ceiling with a broom handle or padded sword or machine gun, they'll know why.

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SUNDAY. 7:12 AM. I really should be asleep. I keep yawning. But I woke up a little while ago and can't get back to sleep. Even though I've been working so hard the past couple of weeks, I seem to sleep less. I definitely fall asleep faster than usual, sleep more soundly, but I wake up usually only six or seven hours later. Maybe it's stress or anticipation?

Week two of the "Great Crack Den Makeover" is done and I've only managed to raise the townhouse's status to "Hovel." I really need the Fab 5 to come in and help me. I guess I'm kind of my own "Fab 5" all rolled into one. And yet I still can't get a date?

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of last week I worked on the house pretty much on my own. I did manage to get my sister and her boyfriend to come out for a few hours early in the week. After finishing the sanding touch-ups, I sealed the wood floors and started to lay down the polyurethane top coat. Between coats, I primed and painted the upper kitchen cabinets. My sister primed the walls behind the stove and counter. Over the course of three days, I put down a coat of sealer and three coats of polyurethane. I also painted the cabinets with one coat of primer and two coats of bright white, semi-gloss interior latex.

Wednesday night, I took Alenda and Brian to the airport. They're headed to sunny California for a week's vacation. I envy them. Of course, now I've lost a couple more hands for the week.

The polyurethane required at least twenty-four hours to set completely (against foot traffic). So, I took Thursday off. But new habits are hard to break. I woke up Thursday morning all ready to go over to the house to work. I had to convince myself not to go. I was going to go and just work on the kitchen. But I didn't. I stayed home and switched gears. After working for nearly two weeks on things physical, it was strange to work on things mental. I managed to get a handful of freelance editing done as well as some stuff needed for gaming.

Friday, I returned to the hovel. My friend Scott had a day off and came over to help. We started the day with a run to Home Depot (where else? I swear the automated check-out computer remembers me and now talks to me like I'm part of the family). He set to work on some basic electrical repair and replacement. All of the outlets in the house needed changing since most of them a) did not have a ground, and b) were trapped under about fifty layers of paint. It's amazing what we discover under all the paint particularly when a socket cover or a piece of moulding is removed. It's like archaeology. Scott revealed that the kitchen had once been pained a very sherberty colored green as well as sky blue. Lovely. Scott also installed code-required GFI (ground fault interrupter) outlets in the kitchen. Lastly, he changed out any light switches that needed replacing.

Meanwhile, I set to work on the cabinets again. A third, fourth, and fifth coat of white paint later, they fucking things still weren't completely white. I think their 1970s, particle board, faux oak laminate powers are struggling to maintain their grungy, grease covered identity. But I will change them. One more coat should do it. I also painted the ceiling pure white. Though the paint job (done badly in place) is new, the walls are a yellowish ivory color throughout the house. In the kitchen it just made the walls look old and soiled. I eventually want to change all the ivory to white. The white ceiling and (almost) white cabinets really brightened up the kitchen. I also finally settled on a kitchen wall color -- a slate, chalky blue-gray colored called (unfortunately) "Skipper." I supposed it's nautical; it's almost battleship gray. I put up some of the wall color around the cabinets to see if it would work. And, I must say, it looks damned nice. Scott agreed. It's definitely not a traditional kitchen color, but it's bold and clean.

Of course, I encountered a couple more roaches. Little ones. Different species. Still gross.

My father stopped by Friday afternoon. He periodically checks in. I think he was impressed with the floors and the work that's been done. Though, I also think he's freaked out that the kitchen still doesn't have base cabinets, counters, or a sink. He said that he'd get a plumber in to fix the leaky upstairs bathroom. He also said he'd get an exterminator to come in as well. Hopefully, it'll get done soon.

Saturday, I had Archaea. I ran a very interesting event where I divided the adventuring party into three small groups. Each small group go their own adventure time while those who weren't player-characters got to be my non-player characters or extras and monsters. It was fun, long, and involved. But I think people had a good time and were surprised at the format of the day's event.

Saturday night, I had wanted to head into the city to go to a Renegades rugby fundraiser. But, it didn't happen. I had thought I had arranged to go out with a couple of friends, but they made other plans without telling me. In fact, most of my friends decided to go to a gathering in northern Virginia. Unfortunately, the host of the gathering (who used to be a mutual friend of ours) decided a couple of months ago that he was no longer my friend -- to the point of not wanting to go to any event I was attending, asking if I was showing up, and talking smack about me to my other friends while I wasn't around. Suffice it to say, going down to his house wasn't on my list of fun things to do. I stayed in. I expressed my distress and disappointment to the friends that I thought were going out with me. Then, I made it an early night. I got some much needed sleep. The rugby boys will have to wait till next time.

Today, Sunday, I got up way too early again. I am going to go over to the house to finish up the cabinet painting and maybe get the walls of the kitchen done. Then, later, I have Tellings.

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