Vanessa and I, Amazons that we are, ripped out a plaster ceiling this weekend. Actually, it’s more accurate to say that we sawed out a plaster ceiling this weekend. We’re renovating the middle bedroom. As soon as my body decides to cooperate, it’s going to be the baby’s room, and I just couldn’t stomach the idea of our child waking up every morning to an ugly dropped ceiling and sponge-painted paneled walls. I used to get depressed every time I walked into the room. Apparently the previous owners had a roof leak over that part of the house at some point and decided to drop the ceiling rather than repair the damage to the plaster after they got the roof replaced. Then someone had the brilliant idea of paneling over perfectly good plaster walls. As if that wasn’t enough, they painted the paneling two revolting shades of Royal and Robin’s Egg Blue.
About a month ago, I decided I couldn’t take it any longer, and I busted out the ceiling grid, dragged the ceiling tiles out to the garage, and started ripping out paneling. The paneling was both nailed and glued, so I then began the pain-staking process of scraping (sometimes gouging) the glue off the plaster below. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I resorted to an evil-smelling adhesive solvent. This weekend Vanessa got up in the attic and started pitching two layers of insulation (one cellulose and one fiberglass) while I hacked away at the plaster ceiling from below with two different saws. It took us the better part of two days, but the ceiling is gone.
Next, we’re having a handyman put in a beadboard ceiling and ceiling fan. Then we’re getting a professional plasterer to come in and repair and reflow the walls. We’ll put the finishing details on the room ourselves with crown molding, paint, and a nice area rug. I hope this little urchin who refuses to get in my belly is grateful. Maybe s/he’s just waiting for the room to be finished.