And, no, it really isn’t a curved application (although that’d be cool!). I used a wide-angle lense to take the picture… Also, in case you are wondering, the gate is not to keep Annie or me out, it’s to keep Sandy from claiming the room as a catbox… The tile was put in last weekend, and I never got to working on it during the week. I started clean-up this morning to put in the grout. A note to those first-timers like me: spend the time to clean up the thin-set mortar that creeps up in the cracks. I spent several hours this morning cleaning the cracks. At first, I went at it by hand. I hadn’t made it very far before I was cramping all through my forearms. Insert your own “wuss” comment here. I decided to take some advice that I was given (very hard for me), and pulled out the Dremel tool. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a bit that would do the job. So? Annie and I piled into the truck, and went down town. The very helpful assistant at the local hardware store took me right to the Dremel bits, and I found the one that would work. Further advice: buy more than one. I went at the task of cleaning out the cracks, and by the time I was done, the 3/32 bit that had score marks for carving “things” looked like a needle.... no exaggeration.
Annie wanted to help so bad, but there were limited opportunities for her. Gifted child that she is, she came up with a couple on her own. Before I grouted, I put drywall mud on the screwheads. She suggested that she could tell me where they were. That was a great idea. We went over all the holes in the middle of the walls, and she cleaned up what I dropped on the floor. By the time I was done with that particular task, she was saying “Daddy, try not to drop any on the floor”. Which was good guidance, as I was purposely flinging drywall mud on the floor every chance I had.
As I prepared the tile grout, she wanted to help further. Note to those who are not versed in this (like me): buy a drill bit that stirs. I pulled out a stick of wood from the copious surplus in the garage, and sat on the deck looking like I was churning butter. Annie came up with a desire to help, and she went at it. She did great. I think the consistency of the grout by the time we were done was perfect. We let it set, and then stirred it again.
After the first application, I had grout everywhere. It’s like when I paint. Actually, it’s like any home-based improvement I do. There are certain things that are guaranteed.
1) I will make a mess beyond the area I’m working on, and
2) I will bleed at some point.
The second point is a genetic inheritance from my father. My dad is incredibly gifted at building and construction, but he always bleeds. My best bet moving forward is to simply cut myself, and bleed on everything before I start. It’s going to happen, I might as well get it out of the way. While cleaning out the cracks in the tile, I used a utility knife and what I think is a wallpaper knife (no clue, but it’s a great tool). Sure enough, the utility knife slipped several times, and I began to bleed. The good news? I have many cuts in my hand that were so superficial they didn’t bleed at all. Probably the result of callouses over the years. The same reason that I can run barefoot down the road and not feel anything.
At any rate, the tile is obviously in. That’s a big step. The next thing that I hate to do is drywall mud. The incredible cost that is required by people that do this for a living is totally warranted. It’s the devil’s work. I have one seam on the drywall that happens at a stud that is twisted, so it’s not flat. I’m absolutely pissed, but there’s nothing I can do. My sister, who has a scrutinous eye for detail, would probably make the contractor take off the drywall, and sand down the stud to provide a flat surface. (If this doesn’t make her read my blog, nothing will… here ears are probably burning right now.) But, since I’m the owner, and the contractor, it ain’t happenin’. I’ll tape it, and texture it, and pray for the wierd light in the room to make it go away…
One more task down, and Annie is pestering me to continue the drywall mud. My father’s and my ex-father-in-law’s expertise in this area must be genetically instilled in her. She’s already told me I don’t have enough mud for the job. I should probably just point her to the drywall knives and the bucket, and let her go…
Too cheap for a contractor...