Bunk Bed Ladder

Day 324: Bunk Bed Ladder

I wish I had a photo of this bunk bed ladder when it was clothed in needlepoint yarn. It was a writhing sculpture. A wicked witch with psychedelic hair. An invitation to touch and stroke, ten thousand strands of color, streaming like a waterfall.

The bunk bed ladder was the vehicle that brought Suzanne's yarn to me, by way of my sister, Suzanne's daughter-in-law. I am grateful that three daughters and a daughter-in-law never took to needlepoint, and so I inherited the yarn from a woman I hardly knew. The needlepoint yarn was a legacy of her lifetime of art. From the yarn flowed to idea to make my own patterns, which transformed needlepoint for me from paint-by-numbers to an effort of self-expression. For an art history major to begin to make her own art - however amateur the design - is a radical shift.

The bunk bed ladder was better in concept than in reality, though. I find the yarn easier to manage separated into a couple dozen color-coded transparent boxes. The yarn gets less tangled that way. I can carry the box to the light and choose the exact right color of cream, or light blue, or pink. Strands don't come loose and entangle themselves in the vacuum cleaner. They don't get dusty, or faded.

I'll miss having the profusion of color throbbing from its corner of the attic. But it's function over form for me. This time, anyway.

Jack Post

Day 115: Jack Post

I have it on good authority that we have the best basement in Burns Park. Bill Yadlosky, famous in our neighborhood for his basement expertise, told me so. Bill said that our house was built by a frugal university professor in the 1920s, who was the very first to build foundations from poured concrete. To save money, he built the concrete form from 4"x4" lumber, then reused the lumber to build the house frame. The frame is thus concrete infused, which is why we can't drive a nail into the supporting beams in the basement. The foundation is true, no bulges or odd angles. The reason water seeps in at times is simply because concrete is porous. You want that, he said.

I had three basement guys come out, just to be sure. Bill - the most well-known - said we really needed to do nothing. One - who struck me as a salesman rather than a workman - said that the entire surrounding area needed to be dug out, a sump pump installed, and waterproof surfaces needed to superimposed over the interior and exterior walls, at a cost of $25K. The third suggested that it would be a good idea to fill the long horizontal crack on the west wall with concrete expoxy to prevent further cracking. He suggested that we remove the smooth outer layer of concrete from the inside walls, which was spackled on at some point for aesthetic reasons and which risked trapping water against the foundation walls. He also suggested I put an extra jack post down the center wall to provide extra support because of the ballooon construction of this house. The cost for the epoxy treatment would be about $3K.

I chose the middle way, partly as a matter of philosophy (I believe in the middle way!) and partly because I find it intolerable to have a large crack in the basement wall. I spent months with a hammer and chisel, removing chunks of concrete spackle from the inner wall, cursing the former owners, from whom we bought the house. They were kind and well-meaning, but where one nail would do, they consistently chose three nails and superglue, thereby ensuring that all home repair projects are five times as difficult as they need to be.

As far as the $25K job is concerned, I was thankful to have eight years of managing the botanical gardens' historic buildings under my belt. I knew even as the salesman was giving me his pitch that applying a waterproof layer to my concrete walls was ill-advised. I felt no guilt about declining that option.

In the end, although I bought the jack post from Home Depot, I never installed it. We already have a jack post down there, and in my heart, I just don't believe we need another one. I'm wondering, will Home Depot take this one back, two years later, without a receipt?

I'll let you know.