The womanly art of spackling

Well, we are finally doing it. After thoroughly enjoying a year and a half of irritation the previous homeowners left us in the form of the front room bath, it is time for the healing to begin. Yes, we would walk in and behold the nasty berber carpet, the toilet that wobbled, the gray and white striped wallpaper, and the toilet paper holder that we had to reposition because apparently Mr. Crooked lived here before and enjoyed torturing others with his DIY mishaps. Ah, the memories.

So we actually really got down to business last night. After trying to take the wallpaper of with scrapers and physical prowess, we rented a steamer. So last night and today we steamed off the wallpaper, occasionally taking a little bit of the drywall with it. We took out the vanity unit and pulled up the carpet, pad, tackstrip and molding. The mirror is gone, as well. So after we finished all of that, it was time to start patching those wall gouges before we could prime.

And I have discovered something about myself -- there is something strangely calming to me about spackling. I love it. Glopping the goop, spreading, evening out...it's totally zen to me. I mean, next time I've had a bad day, I think I'll just go spackle somewhere to calm down.

Anyway, we're taking a break now while the spackle dries so we can sand and hopefully prime tonight, as well. I am taking photos of the process, and I'll post them later. But right now, since I am done spackling, I decided I'd reminisce on my happenstance discovery of this lovely aspect of DIY. Now back to work!