Okay. So after much cursing, poking, peeking, and prodding. Also after hitting it with a hammer and something that was definitely not a screwdriver being used as a sort of chisel. And spraying it with lubricant… the lift seems to be working again.
However, because it wasn’t working we planned other things. Namely walls. And we got stuff to do them. And now we have a delightfully weird cube butting out into our kitchen. This was expected, but actually encountering it is quite different to “we’ll have a cube sticking out into our kitchen when we’re done”.
It’s quite fun, and very angular. We, it seems, have all the angles.
We’re almost all the way round the bathroom cube, then there’s many cupboards to attack. Well, one and a ‘sitting to put shoes on’ space, and one that I was a teeny bit short on when I was using up spare drywall. We’ll probably go back to me attacking cupboards, and Kathryn and I attacking ceilings now that the lift at least appears to be working.
We stood around today at the end of the day talking about the cube. It’s very odd. We built this. On the exterior walls – so in every other space in the house – there’s some of the original house hiding. It may be patched, it may be modified, but it’s there. But the main bathroom has no walls that existed before we came. It even mainly stands on a sub-subfloor that we put in because the old floor was so rotten. There is no part of it not built by our hands.
From the plywood subfloor, to the studs, to the ceiling joists, to the ducting, to the heating, to the plumbing, to the cast iron bath, to the electrics, to the drywall. It is our sweat, tears, time and effort that have made that little space exist.
It’s quite cool.