Zen and the Art of overhauling Geometric German-inspired bathrooms
If I never see a paintbrush again, it will be too soon. Although it’s quite possible that I might not see anything ever again, if I don’t get this fetching green paint out of my baby blues soon…
That’s the thing about DIY. One morning, you’re suddenly struck by the mindblowing bizarre mundanity of your bathroom (mostly the fault of the previous German owners, who managed to create a surrealist triumph of orange-and-yellow tiles, triangular mirrors and sandblasted squares), and the next thing you know, you’re standing in the paint section of your friendly local hardware store, contemplating such delights as Garden By Moonlight (that’s the green one) and Bleached Baobab. It took me a while to focus on the actual job at hand, what with my mind wandering off to mull on who has the job to name paint colours, and what they’re smoking when they do so…
I left in high spirits with a haul of brushes, mosaic tiles, tins of paint, glue and a random Watsonia (Plant indigenous! Get butterflies!) that caught my eye, blissfully intent on finishing this little overhaul in, say, about three hours, leaving me plenty of time to behold the wonder of my work. The theme I was going for: Zen Garden.
It is now day Number Five. Don’t ask me about grout, mosaic tiles dropping like bright birds from their unresisting little glue nests, and suicidal insects intent on drowning in wet paint. Not to mention the extra, unexpected expenses, such as sanding paper, base coat, plasters, chocolate, and tissues. I have, however, learnt a few valuable lessons along the way, which I shall now share with you…
Important DIY lessons to remember
When painting a ceiling, wear goggles. And then, never, ever paint a ceiling again.
No matter what the paint salesman says, steer away from enamel paint. Yes, it’s death to mildew. And yes, it’s also death to your paintbrushes, time, patience, hair, hands… And it will never, ever come off or be covered again.
Want to paint a surface, any surface? Sand it first. Then put basecoat on. Make it two layers. Three, to be safe. Leave it twenty days to dry. Then, and only then, do you paint your chosen colour over the top. I’d suggest avoiding painting any surfaces in general.
Finicky work, such as turning the grout you so blissfully painted green back to white? Use a ruler, and white paint. Fake it, baby.
Stuff being all starry-eyed at the thought of your pretty skylight bouncing rays of sunshine off your beautiful little mosaic tiles. Trash the tiles. Smoke pot instead, same effect.
Glue doesn’t work, ever. Give up now.
It never takes just a day. Take the amount of time you’re expecting to spend on your project, and times it by a hundred.
Never buy a house with a bidet. It’s much harder than you think to remove one and use the space it wastes for a little couch or table stacked with books (it’s my bathroom, okay!) instead. If all else fails, fill it with pebbles and orchids, and credit me for the idea.
Always throw some kind of covering (old towels, sheets, whatever) on any surface you don’t want covered in paint.
Wear your boyfriend’s rattiest clothes while overhauling.
Lock the cat out of the overhauling area: falling over said curious feline leads to unnecessary expenses, such as bandages.
Balancing on ladders: never, ever do it barefoot.
If you can, hire a forklift with plenty of space to balance all the stuff you need while up in the air.
When you wake up the morning after Day 1 of overhauling, move carefully. Your lower back, right calf, neck and elbows will recover.
And no, you’re not blind. That’s just the paint in your eyes…
This blog was originally written in January 2010, for my now-defunct blogsite, dustbunniesproject.com
