We put in a good day yesterday. We got a lot of painting done, thanks to my dad’s help and mom’s watching of the kids. Now all that’s left to paint is the 32 doors.
Today David’s doing the tile (the “brick,” as Linus calls them.) The pantry is nearly complete; all David has to do is build the 10 doors—which I have to paint. You know, maybe we’re not as close as I thought!
But I do want to post pictures of the pot rack David made. I love it. And I have to thank Mollie for her suggestion to put it over the sink. I had mentioned at Christmas how I’d always wanted a pot rack, but that I’d probably never have one because we weren’t doing a center island. Enter Mollie and her fantastic idea! A little outside the box thinking, and voila!
I have to try to explain how it was made. I’m struggling to refrain from using words like “doohickey” and “thingamajig.” It’s made out of a piece of iron; it’s a twisted drive shaft from a center pivot. What I think happens is that one end of the shaft is connected to the center drive on a pivot tower, the other to the gear box on the tire. As the pivot moves, and if it’s going down a slope or something, and one of the two ends gets stuck, the other side keeps turning, and it uniformly and completely twists the iron into what you see in the above picture. Isn’t that so weird? And awesome? I know, it’s hard to believe. Our towel racks in the bathroom are made out of two shorter pieces. I now completely believe the stories of runaway pivots running over pickups and four wheelers and stuff. They can twist iron with ease. Better double check those pivot stops.
Yesterday makes up for Saturday, though, which will hereto be known as “The Scourge of the Sink” day. David’s brother is in the midst of remodeling his bathroom right now, and so the three of us thriftily headed to the “big” city to the home improvements store to refurbish our supplies. He bought a new sink for his bathroom, and we haughtily ignored them, thinking we were going to re-install the cast-iron sink that was original to the house (circa 1916). We drove the 40 miles back home, and promptly became in a pickle. Do you have any idea how heavy cast iron is? David enlisted my help in carefully lifting it back into the (new, dingable) countertop. I count it heavenly intervention that Keith happened to be out in David’s shop changing his oil, because my muscles weren’t doing the trick.
Long story short (I know, it’s far too late): The sink just wasn’t working. So we headed the forty miles back to Menards to buy a new one. While we were in the checkout line, David’s phone rang. It was Keith, saying, “I need a new sink.” Yes, it seems that he dropped the heavy end of the towel bar, and by some stroke of physics, it landed with precision upon the yet-to-be-installed sink on the floor, and shattered. It wasn’t a great day in the home-improvement sector.
And now, I must end this post, for I have to enter once again the foray that is ebay to shop for hardware. By the way, the bidding war I was embroiled in with the faucet? I lost. I will say that I was screaming and yelling at David and the computer, asking him if I should bid again, and at the computer for being too slow, and, well, it was all very stressful and I lost it. Of course, I haven’t been able to find a similar one anywhere that wasn’t at least $500. And that’s a TEENY bit out of our range…