One step forward, two steps back

Monday was a busy, productive day, getting a lot of what I call "cosmetic infrastructure" in place.  That means, HomoDommi framed out the soffits that will top the cabinetry, and moved the thermostat from kitchen (behind a future cabinet) to foyer. He and I together installed drywall on the long "pantry" wall. We figured that was a good wall to start with, because it will be completely covered by cabinetry -- so learning mistakes will be covered. (He has done some drywall before, but I haven't, except for the concrete board behind the sink, which we did on Friday and Sunday; drywall is a lot easier to work with). At the end of a long day, HomoDommi was attaching boards across the ceiling, which will become the (upside-down) basis for the final ceiling covering.  All was going speedily, and we could see big changes coming into being in the kitchen. Ha ha ha.

Then HomoDommi realized that there was a major sag in the ceiling in one corner of the room. It was the corner we've been perplexed by, with the plumbing and the heating duct and (we learned later) antique knob-and-tube wired electricity all running through the same 3'x5' area. The corner we've puzzled over and nattered at, and then turned our backs on because we didn't know what to do about it. ("Opportunity #3" in an earlier blog entry.) Lesson learned: Confront the task you are most afraid of, first, before you discover you will have to redo other tasks in order to complete that one.

What we realized Monday night was that, at some time in the past (presumably while plumbers were working on the toilet above the kitchen) someone cut all the way through the 2x8 supporting beam.  That is, they cut the out main support on a load-bearing wall, under the floor of the upstairs. The toilet sits above this. (The large black pipe in the photo is the sewage line.)

(Follow the beam that HomoDommi is touching to the left to see a 6 inch gap in the beam.)

But wait, it gets better.  At some other time in the past, someone else cut all the way through that same load-bearing joist about four feet away. (We assume it was someone else, and not just a single idiot, cutting a branch off the tree while standing on it, like Wile E. Coyote in the cartoons.) In cartoon physics, there's a long, laugh-filled pause after the cut, before the branch (and Wile E. Coyote) follows the rules of gravity and falls to the bottom of a deep chasm. In our case, the branch (beam) hadn't fallen yet due to three nails that held the orphaned four-foot long section of 2x8 to the floor of the bathroom (nails intended merely to keep the floor down, not the beam below it up).

(Follow the beam HomoDommi is touching to the right, to see a 7 inch gap in the same beam.)

We believe, but aren't sure, that the first cut, under the toilet, was done when the bathroom was originally remodeled in the 1950s.  The second cut, under the tub, was almost certainly done in 2002 when the Baby of the Moment flushed a dopp kit down the toilet, requiring another complete remodel. At that time, the family requested that the tub be shifted over to fill an awkward, wasted, one-foot-wide area lost behind the old tub, and the plumber complied. Had he mentioned that moving the tub required cutting through a load-bearing beam, the family would have opted against the alteration.  But he didn't mention it.

The beam that was cut up supports a toilet, 1/5th of a bathtub, and part of the wall between the bathroom and closet.  By last night (Wednesday night) we were able to work out that it had sagged about 3/4s of an inch (roughly 2 cm).

We spent Tuesday figuring out how to fix things, and buying materials. (We also happened across a replacement window for the north wall.  I will write about this later.) The main item we had to acquire was a 16 foot long 2 x 10 beam of better grade Douglas Fir, to become a new structural support. This meant another tense drive in the building supply store hourly-rental truck at rush hour, but at least it was another fine sunny day with the mountains glistening on the horizon (and this time I remembered my camera).

(Mount Hood, seen from Marine Drive, on the way to Home Depot.)

On Wednesday, we once again donned bunny suits, respirators and goggles, and had to pull down another third of the lathe and plaster ceiling, not to mention the soffit-framing and ceiling planks that HomoDommi had installed on Monday. We had to move plumbing (this particular plumbing has now been reworked three times in as many weeks) and replace ancient electricity, and then construct a new supporting beam, with supports to hold it up, across the length of the kitchen immediately below the broken beam.

(The new beam is the new-looking wood in the upper right corner of the photo, above the ladders.)

It rests below the level of the rest of the ceiling, but fortunately, it is behind the plane of the soffit, so it won't show. Future owners and kitchen-remodelers will have to have soffits, too, or think of other clever ways to hide it (or replace it).

In the process, we also uncovered the old heating duct (which carries heat to the master bedroom and the bathroom).  It appears to have been the beloved home to many generations of mice -- they had clawed up the duct insulation/covering to help make their heated nest. Unfortunately, there's a good chance this ripped up covering is pure asbestos (we now say that it wasn't Tasha who rid us of the mice, but lung cancer).  So half the day was spent painting the old ducts (to adhere any asbestos dust to the rest of the fabric) and then taping it down so that it can't be ripped easily in future).

(The crumbling white is insulation/covering; the silver is the duct itself.)

We are rather fatalistic about this problem. This covering has been crumbled like this for years -- in the duct work and behind plaster walls, true, but there have been holes in the ceiling and walls for years, too.  It does no good to panic (although it was our #1 concern after we discovered the ducts) -- we've already been exposed. I am just choosing to believe that the insulation/covering is not asbestos, but some other product (it is very thin, not much thicker than construction paper).  If you have a reliable way of knowing that it is asbestos, please don't tell me.

So, in one day we did destruction, plumbing, electricity, hazmat, and structural rebuilding. Not bad for 12 hours work.  But we are now back, cosmetically, to about where we were Monday at 3 p.m.