So before we ever left on our little New Mexico vacation, we (Mr. Rodriguez and I, ripped up the tile in the kitchen, dining room, and washroom. The initial idea was that while we were away, Pancho, a family friend and oft spoken of in regards to tile and stucco, would lay the new tile down. This all sounded great before we began. When we did begin, pounding away at the existing tile, we quickly discovered that the tile was basically adamantium. It did not budge. It did not crack. It did not break. Later, after using a 50 pound breaker bar, we were able to get under the tile and start popping it up. This process was greatly expedited by using air hammers. Progress was progressing appropriately; we felt like we were on track. After the initial fear with the breaker bar experience, things were looking up. Then, when we attempted to scrape off the old thinset, we really discovered the true meaning of "ripping up tile." The thinset was on thick. In some places, more than an inch. Our little air hammers pinged off the black mortar like beebees off a wrecking ball. I tried pouring boiling water on the floor, a trick that worked wonders on YouTube videos, but nothing changed except now my misery was muddy. We had to rent two large breakers and basically jackhammer the ever-living shit out of that floor. Some areas we progressed inches in what seemed like hours. Our hands ached from the incessant vibrations. Our biceps screamed and our backs were bent like a crushed can. I couldn't believe how difficult it was turning out to be. I thought I had mentally prepared myself for an arduous task, but this had long past my expectations. The idea of "giving up" looked like an oasis in this dusty grey desert. We talked about perhaps letting Pancho finish the rest of the demo job, but this would be going against the whole point of us doing it — to save some money (which we were already getting a little bit too close to absurdity once the rental fees were added up, almost $900). The one solace I had was that Pancho would be visiting to "check" the work. The were areas that had been shaved down, but that were still spotted with black mortar. Then there were areas that more closely resembled the surface of the moon, much less a concrete floor. Yet, once Pancho arrived, he quickly laid an old wooden leveler down and announced that it was "bueno." I nearly cried with happiness. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating. But I definitely felt a tremendous weight flutter off my back, like the can was uncrushed suddenly.
Now Phase 2 has begun.
Yes, I skipped the whole part where Pancho showed up and laid the tile. I won't go into the story about where he accidentally spread quick-drying grout all over half of the tile before he realized it was drying everywhere it wasn't supposed to be drying, which caused us to spend about 4 days scraping with small chisels, screwdrivers, and pocketknives. No I won't go into that. Or how its still all over the tile in certain areas, but I literally said fuck it.
Phase 2 is much more interesting. We started ripping up the wood, or engineered wood to be more precise, and discovered that there was a massive amount of rubbery glue underneath. This wasn't much of a surprise; we figured there had to be some sort of glue underneath. Naively, I hoped for a simple smattering or a dumb zig-zag pattern of glue. What we found was a thick stinky blanket of putrid yellow glue. But like I said, we figured there'd be something like this underneath. What we didn't predict was the time-consuming method it would take to remove the mustardy adhesive. We started by attacking it with razor scrapers. It took considerable effort, but the stuff would come in little half-inch strips. Keyword there being "half-inch." Thus clearing a 3 foot by 3 foot area took about an hour. But then we discovered that we were using the wrong side of the razor blades. Apparently they are packaged for safety, so they turn the blades around in the scrapers on purpose. Once we fixed that slight detail, the scraping suddenly picked up pace! Imagine that!
No comments:
Post a Comment