Beach house #4 – Uh-oh.

I was waiting on guys to come rip out the subfloor/tub in the bathroom for me and I decided to tackle the hallway closet. It was a very strange thing; the door didn’t fit, it looked like it’d been sort of roughly framed-in as an afterthought and never re-trimmed, it was full of shelves made of different materials, and gave an all-around sloppy look.

It doesn’t look nearly so bad in the picture below, but flash will do wonders to bleach out grime.

termites 1 closet

I only got so far as ripping out a few shelves before I realized it was the last day of the Memorial Day Carnival, and the girls had been so good that I resolved to take them. Josh, who doesn’t like crowds and was already tired from ripping up the bathroom with me, was supposed to go home and rest. Instead, halfway through the carnival he texted me this:

IMG_20170529_200637

Squee! He’d gone back to the little house and kept working. What more could a girl ask for? It was almost done!

So the next day I hauled the girls back over there and started taking off the odd side panelling – that white stuff wasn’t drywall, it was squares of badly-fitted, white-painted particleboard. Nothing was wrong with the right-hand side, but the left-hand side?

Oh. Shoot.

termites closet 3

Except I didn’t say “shoot.”

That them there’s some termites, ladies and gentlemen. Some termites having themselves one hell of a party.

My heart started going a million miles an hour and I broke out in a cold sweat. My stomach was in my throat as I kept going with the demo, uncovering more and more… Observe, if you will, that there is essentially nothing left of the top plate in the above photo – and that is most definitely a load bearing wall.

It didn’t get better when I peeled back the linoleum flooring to find, well…. nothing.

termites closet 1

…A giant gaping hole into the basement had been plugged and “repaired” by laying a sheet of linoleum over it. And you can see that not only is there nothing left of the studs – they crumbled to sawdust at my touch – but there’s nothing left of the bottom plate either.

And that? Repairing a load-bearing wall from the bottom plate all the way through to the top? Is not something I feel capable of DIYing. Especially not when I had to sit down and try to neither hyperventilate nor throw up while squeaking out a near-hysterical SOS to Josh over the phone.

So can I just take a moment here to put in a plug for my husband? Guys, he was amazing. Cool and collected and never once did he say any of the what-did-you-get-us-intos or how-could-you-possibly-think-you-could-handle-a-project-like-this that were most definitely running around VERY LOUDLY through my own mind. “We’ll call someone, and they’ll fix it,” was all he said. And then he made me go home and get in a bath, and he made dinner and put the kids to bed. It’s like something out of a romance novel, seriously.

Nice silver lining, you crappy beach house.

One Response to “Beach house #4 – Uh-oh.”

  1. Sam Says:

    I’m so happy you’re blogging again. Yay for RSS feeds!

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