Well, I fell into that same old trap again, where I put off writing a post because I thought it would be nice to wait until the bathroom was finished and I could include pictures of all the awesome. And really, on Thursday of the week before last, it looked like my plan was going to pay off.
First, the lighting store called to let us know that the new light fixture was in and ready to be picked up. Then I got a package at work with the two new shower riser connectors I had ordered (to replace the split one - more on THAT in a minute). And then RONA called to let us now that the blinds we had ordered had been finished and were ready to be picked up. Then we got home to find that the towel bar, toilet roll holder and other accessories had been delivered.
So it looked like it was all coming together nicely. And really, when I left for my woodworking course (more on that in a minute, too) on Thursday night, I honestly thought that I'd be winding up my Thanksgiving weekend with a post full of pictures showing a completed master bath.
You would think, after how ever many years this nonsense has been going on, that I would know better by now.
Sigh. And of course, I STILL haven't written anything about the windowsill or how we got the damn vanity to fit. So much to cover, so little time.
Anyway, let's start with the windowsill, seeing as how it's rather germane to the rest of the stories, particularly the ones about the blinds (and let me tell you - there are some stories about the blinds...). As can be seen in some of the previous pictures, the new window in the former Baath Bath is of the bay persuasion. That is to say, there are actually three windows, sharing a single sill. Before I run out of words and high-falutin' phrases to describe said window, how about few pictures of the working area:
Yeah. THAT'S gonna be fun to trim out, eh?
So my first idea was to basically create three separate pieces (technically six, as I'd have to repeat the process for the top part of the window), one to go in front of each window, and then carefully patch and seal the seams. Given that the edges were not exactly straight (or parallel, or anything close to something that resembled EVEN), I figured the best thing to do would be to start with some cardboard templates.
As you can see, even the cardboard templates were a little challenging (though I admit to being pretty damn proud of myself for using MATH to get the angles so close). I managed to trim them up to a semblance of fitting, and then transferred them over to three pieces of 1x6 finger-jointed pine. The next step would have been a LOT easier if I owned a bandsaw, but I made do with some hideously dangerous table saw work, and some futzing with the jig saw. Fortunately, depending on who's side you're on, I didn't hurt myself and managed to make three fairly close wooden representations of my template.
And yeah - that's totally not going to work. Basically, the wood is so misaligned and out of level that I'd practically have to build a form and cover it with concrete to get a flat enough surface for the wood to sit flat. Anything less, and the seams would just split and it would always look like crap.
After some thinking (and swearing, of course), I settled on a different approach: one piece of continuous wood, cut to fit the exact shape of the sill (and a second one for the top). Given the size and layout of the sill, however, I'd have to make this out of plywood.
Man, I can't even tell you the amount of effort it took just to get the damn piece to this stage:
Just. So much.
Gah.
And then, of course, what should have been a fairly straight-forward trace and cut along the line turned into a hellish chore of trying-to-make-do-with-the-wrong-tools again. Mostly because the jigsaw we have is a piece of absolute crap (and it's my fault because I bought it as gift for the War Department), and I DON'T HAVE A BANDSAW.
Anyway, after more swearing than I'm even comfortable admitting to, I got this:
Thanks to a bright sunny day (which I spent stuck inside working on the goddamn trim), you can really see the craptacular job I did cutting it. Nothing like shining a light on something to really pick out its flaws, eh?
Sigh.
Sorry. Got a little bitter about it there for a second.
Still, I stuck with it and got the top piece in as well, though the amount of swearing didn't decrease much at all:
Once that was in, to add insult to insult (no injuries to speak of, aside from my wounded pride and self-confidence), I was now faced with having to install the trim around my trainwreck of a window sill. Which came with its own challenges of course, given that Tony the mudder had to do a LOT of feathering to get the corners smooth enough, meaning that there was no way in hell the trim was going to sit flat on what was an exceptionally un-flat wall. Here's a close up of one of the worst offenders, just in case you want to stare at some random marks on our walls for a few minutes (go ahead, I'll wait while you try to wrap your brain around the angles involved there):
I got most of the trim to fit okay, with a little creative editing, but that corner required some serious surgery to make the trim fit. Don't believe me? Well, here's the corner piece as it looked from the front:
And here's the back of that same piece after I nibbled away all the wood that was in the way:
And the matching piece for the other side:
Oh, yeah, and did I mention that I was, of course, doing all the test fitting and marking at the complete opposite end of the house, and on an entirely different floor, from the saws and tools I needed to do the cutting. SO glad we bought a house with a huge flight of stairs. So, so, SO glad!
I guess the good news is that, well:
a) I have a pretty good idea of where I went wrong with the sill, and pretty sure that if I ever encounter this problem again, I'll have a better approach. (Buy me a beer and I will tell you - AT LENGTH - exactly what that is. Buy me two, and I'll offer to help fix yours too, but then I'm an idiot for beer that way.)
b) Thanks to the War Department and her amazing touch with the caulking gun (and a few hours filling, sanding, and painting), it came out looking mostly okay:
No, I don't have a close-up and you can't see it even if I did. Which I don't.
Anyway, this post is long enough, and there are already too many pictures in it (Blogger starting gakking pretty hard on that last one), so I'll sign off for now. (It has nothing to do with how thinking about this bloody window has made me all pissed off or anything.) The story of the shower risers and my woodworking course can wait until next time.
(In case anyone was wondering - no, the bathroom is still not finished. It's gonna be another two weeks. Tops.)
2 comments:
Oh. My. God. Nothing is ever simple, is it? I'm just astonished that you didn't hulk out and just rip the entire bay of the house, because I would have been tempted to do just that.
off the house, not of the house. What do you want? It's 5:14 am. You're lucky I was able to peel my eyelids apart enough to read this, let alone spell properly.
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