Before, there was this pegboard on the window wall:
I tore it off and found house centipedes, rodent bodily waste, acorns, and a plastic sheet over the insulation. Prior view from the bottom of the basement stairs:
The internet told me plastic sheeting is no longer recommended for basements in our area, so I tore that off, removed the old insulation, and found more house centipedes, rodent waste, and acorns. No pictures because I don't think of taking pictures when I'm running for the N-95 (thank you Pandemic: the masks finally came in handy), Chlorox wipes and latex gloves.
The window on the left became Damon's bedroom window. The one on the right was supposed to be my home office window. Alas, I've run out of steam and the pallets I like, so that plan is on hold.
This is the current view from the bottom of the basement stairs:
If you were to walk past the woodpile and our slick new tankless water heater (the gas savings pay for the water heater in a mere 20 years, by which time you will need a new water heater which pays for itself never) you'd find Damon's constructed-this-week rolling/sliding bedroom door:
Until this month, I've enjoyed the project enormously. Once July hit I was burnt out and just wanted it done. Didn't even remove the price tag from the pipe the door slides on before I installed it. Didn't search Facebook marketplace or the ReStore for a second-hand one. Using reclaimed materials takes time, and I'm out of that. Apparently didn't even finish driving in the screw. Probably stripped it. Can't remember. Or the blisters on my hands were too painful to finish the job. It was an awkward angle and I couldn't use the drill. Hopefully the others are snug. Also out patience for doing a thorough paint job. Slapped the door's paint on last night, deciding a sloppy one-coat job was good enough. Not apologizing, just saying.
Walking through the door,
you'd find this mirror my neighbor left on the curb on garbage day:
Does anyone else in Leawood scavenge from the neighbors on garbage day? Probably not in broad daylight like I do. But maybe.
I built the little closet in the corner to hide the breaker box. All reclaimed material except for the door handle, which came from Hobby Lobby. It aggravates me that the little door, which I bought at the ReStore, had been stripped of its knob and hinges. Incidentally, the ReStore proved I'm a tightwad first and a steward of the earth second: if something was cheaper at Lowe's than at the ReStore, I bought it new at Lowe's.
Jake wasn't keen on me drilling into our home's foundation. It's not wise to let people who don't know what they're doing do things like that, I suppose, now that I'm calm enough to consider the issue logically, but the neighbors may have wondered what I was shouting about the day Jake vetoed my plan to rent a hammer drill. So the little closet it attached to the ceiling (floor?) joists on top and cinderblocks (two that came glued together and free on FB marketplace) on the bottom. The door sticks, so please hold the closet in place with one hand while you pull the door open with the other.
Here's the reclaimed barnwood I love and adore. It came that color. If I could go back to last fall, I'd take Jake with me to Pleasanton to get more. But I was so exhausted from hauling and scrubbing clean what I had, I couldn't face going back one more time. All the good wood was by then covered with a ton of undesirable wood the remodelers had torn out, and I couldn't face digging out the good stuff, even with help. Plus Jake was worn out too, if I remember correctly. Work and the bishop gig, you know.
Okay, I've got to get off the computer and get to work--the rest of the house is a disaster. I painted the bed to match the rug (new from World Market). Jake made the bed for Damon many years ago, and is the reason we have a miter saw and circular saw laying around, which enabled me to build the room. You can sort the rest.
One more thing: before the paint and rug made it look so good (special thanks to my interior design consultant and sister), I would sometimes get discouraged because it was so much work and was looking so shoddy. I would have to call my sister for a pep talk, which went something like this: it's okay if looks like it was made out of garbage, because it was made out of garbage and there's no shame in using reclaimed materials. It's a privilege to have the means to use them. [This is not unlike the pep talks I call my sister for after standing too close to a well-lit mirror: it's okay to look middle-aged because you are middle-aged, and there's no shame in that. Getting old is a privilege...]
