Bathrooms, noggings and trailer trash

The Masters continue to labour away at the house, and away from the house.

It took a week, eight revisions and much messing around but the Master's finally pinned the bathroom/kitchen supplier down and got a quote out of them. I'm amazed these clowns stay in business (they should open a Clown College). Case in point, despite providing them the exact product numbers of the shower mixers and in-wall units the 'Corporate Consultant' still ordered the wrong part! But the Masters are diligent and saved the day, the correct part successfully arrived Friday. Well, 5 of 6 parts, still waiting for the shower divertor.

But it is quite awesome finally seeing the boxes and the products (right). Ooooh shiny!

Side story: several years ago The Shadow and I were travelling through Germany and spent a few nights in the Black Forrest in a gorgeous town called Schiltach. Schiltach is around 1,100 years old, supposedly built on an old Roman road. It also has an excellent witch-burning story that is told each Walpurgisnacht to keep young kids in line. It is also home to Hansgrohe. The large factory in town sports a Bathroom Museum, where you can follow a chronological history of bathrooms through the ages. It was excellent! And it ended with a range of Hansgrohe's modern bathroom technology. Needless, when we were finally able to buy our own stuff it had to be Hansgrohe.

In typical Australian fashion much of the awesome Hansgrohe stuff is not available here. This is true not just of Hansgrohe but other companies too. For example, at pretty much every hotel in Europe The Shadow and I have lodged in the shower taps are not taps in the traditional sense, nor divertors. It is a long bar with two dials. The first dial sets the temperature, in degrees centigrade, the other dial sets the pressure. That is, I can have a shower at exactly 38oC at the exact pressure I want it at, every single day. No fiddling, no messing around, no scalding. I've never seen one of these devices available in Australia.

And when you compare the price between here and, lets say the Mother Land, we pay a very large premium for a smaller range and terrible customer services. Go us!

Saturday afternoon we loaded more crap into the trailer and filled it up good. Sunday morning we strained, push, cajoled, threatened, kicked and abused the heavily loaded trailer out of the backyard, down the right of way and left it in the ROW for the truck to back into and haul away. Stupid trailer. Stupid ROW. Stupid giant bruise on The Shadow's leg.

The Master's continued their assault on the noggings. 'WTF is a nogging?' I hear you say. Well, let me explain firstly with what nogging is not.

Nogging (adjective): a poorly crafted, essentially meaningless insult, typically used in an outer-suburb, or maybe the Hills. As in, 'You stupid nogging [bro].' Bro may be excluded.

Nogging (verb): a violent downward-arcing motion. As in, 'I'll nogging you good, [bro]!' See above re bro.

What a noggin is:
Nogging (noun): the piece of wood nailed in horizontally between studs that does something something.

It was about that time I tuned out to the explanation, I preferred the first two options, you stupid noggings!

A good house needs loads of noggings. And each nogging needs to be measured, cut and nailed individually, as each is as unique as snowflake (I expect). It is long, tedious work, nogginging.

Nogging.

Great word. Reminds me of Enid Blyton, somehow. Big Ears and Noggins great adventure in Story Land! Only three more sleeps until the Great Nogging Hunt. Jane and Harry ate all the noggings put before them.

During the week we received a telegram from the Master's advising us that the new bathroom was being delivered this week. We were very excited, as you could understand: it's not everyday you get a telegram! And the bathroom news! Sadly, the bathroom did not quite live up to expectation :(

The Master's have a sick sense of humour. They'll get their noggings!

This is journalism? Give me a job!

I try to contain my commentary on this blog to my house building. But I am making an exception today.

The Age posted this article: "I bought a house and regretted it". 

I assume it was supposed to be a moral or pat-on-the-head-it's-ok tale that renting is totally ok, buying a house is not the be-all-to-end-all and just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean you need to, too.

If that was the intention: fail.

One cannot provide a moral tale for society based on one's stupid individualistic decision. The author could have said "this story is not unique, 3 out of 5 23 year olds make the same mistake" or whatever. It either a) speaks volumes of the authors narcissism that her story of stupidity somehow has a broader reach or b) speaks volumes about The Age online's audience that this story is trying to appeal to. In fact, I don't think its an OR, I'm going to say both.

You could easily replace house with car (The car market sucks because I bought a lemon car and regretted it boohoo), house with discount designer shoes (the discount designer shoe market sucks because they looked a bargain but when I got them home the heel broke boohoo) or whatever you want and this story could still run effectively at a two-bit online media outlet like The Age.

Choosing a crap apartment with crap walls and noisy neighbours is not a reflection on the housing market, the renting market or anything, except one persons poor decision making. This is made even worse as she had a choice not to buy that apartment, had advice not to do so and still failed.

Many people have limited choices when renting and still have to deal with those situations, along with asshole landlords, ever increasing rents and can't just move to Byron to live happily ever after while her tenants, locked into a 12 month contract, are stuck in her hellhole. Chances are, all those people she hated on were all renters.

Edit:
With further consideration, what the article is actually arguing, although it is not aware of it, is that apartment buildings are garbage and governments and councils should be actively protecting both tenants, residents and asset owners against the shoddy workmanship. Contrawise, councils and governments share enormous blame for the terrible state of apartment complexes, both old and young. An enhanced regulatory regime is required to prevent the problems the author of the article had. The moral of the story has nothing to do with buying v renting, it's be careful what you buy or rent, if you can, because the people that build most apartments, and most houses for that matter, do not have your interests in mind.

Caveat emptor, suckers.

Goods and services - a play in One Act

To properly explain my previous post's discussion of the post-modern revenue source of a major household supplier I thought it worth while to transcribe the conversation that took place in said store. To protect the lazy I have omitted the stores name and changed the name of the guide.

The below screenplay may contain some embellishments, but if it does they serve only to assist the story and not the outcome:

INT - MAJOR SUPPLIER OF HOUSEHOLD GOODS STORE IN A NORTHERN SUBURB OUTLET STORE CENTRE - LATE MORNING

Two intrepid, fearless, attractive, smart and funny explorers enter the brightly lit showroom of the store.

DAN, casual in jeans, sneakers and a Washington Redskins RG3 t-shirt, looks around for a local guide to assist with their search for the fabled tapware of power. Legend has it, whoever possesses this tapware will unlock fluid joy and liquid harmony in their bathroom.  THE SHADOW, a cloud of dark shapeless smoke reminiscent of a powerful ninja when the ninja has entered smoke-form, spots an idle guide sitting at a table under an umbrella sipping an exotic looking cocktail. His pose suggests he has been idle for some time. He tries desperately to avoid catching the raised eyes of The Shadow, but her will is stronger, her gaze fierce. The name tag on the guide's chest says in bold letters and colors: JIM.

JIM

(looking sadly up from his idleness)

Is there anything I can help you with today?

THE SHADOW

(eyes narrowed, focused, channeling a little bit of Jedi power)

We have come for the fabled taps of Baden-Württemberg. You will take us to them.

JIM

(A final look at his drink, water beads and runs down the outside of the cocktail glass. His eyes find the fierce gaze of The Shadow and he wilts underneath them. No! This is his land, his rules. He reaches deep for fortitude and for a moment finds some he lost several years earlier. In a slow, meandering voice he asks)

Who told you I can assist with such a long, difficult, dangerous and often fruitless venture?

THE SHADOW

(she cares not for his feeble attempts, she dismisses his question with a quick retort)

Is it not your livelihood to assist those such as I?

JIM

(Trapped in a logic bubble he cannot but assist)

Follow me.

Jim leads the explorers through the cavernous aisles until they reach that which they came for, tapware from the Black Forrest.

JIM

Here are the wondrous taps of Baden-Württemberg. 

DAN

(Bored after spending 30 minutes walking the 10 meters behind this meandering turtle-man)

Good, we want this one and two of these.

JIM

(Lazy by nature he has the ability to wield powerful black magic when required. Dan has just unlocked the magic, Jim is now empowered by Dan's express interest)

Oooo Kaaaay. Let's see here. This has two price tags, you know why?

DAN

How could I possibly know why?

JIM

Sooo, the first is the tap, the second is the taps internals. You need both.

THE SHADOW

(She cares not for details, she came for taps dammit)

Ok, how much for 2 of these, 1 of these and the necessary internals

JIM

(He has all day to f**k with tourists, he gets paid an appearance fee, not a commission)

Whoa, slow down. You actually want these things.

THE SHADOW

(the exact nature of the transaction is slowly dawning on Dan and The Shadow, they are now playing his game according to his rules. It is a confusing game)

Err, yes. That's why we came all this way.

JIM

(Loves stupid tourists)

These ones?

DAN

(Trying to butter him up a little)

Yes please, Mr Guide, sir.

JIM

(Eats butter for breakfast)

These don't just grow on trees you know. When do you want them.

THE SHADOW

(Doesn't care about butter)

Right-goddam-now

JIM

(Rolls on the floor laughing)

(This continues for some time)

(DAN and The Shadow set up a small campsite and wait the night.)

(About 18 hours pass before the ROFLing stops. JIM stands up and snorts derisively)

You can't just get these things immediately.

Dan and The Shadow look confused.

JIM

Dammit, we're a showroom, not a factory outlet. We don't actually carry any...

(DERISIVE SNORTING) 

...stock. 

Dan and The Shadow look confused.

JIM

If we carried stock we would need to house it. Do you know how expensive it is to house stock? It's much better if we sell things we don't have, then we don't have to pay for it. We'll take your money, then buy what you want from a real company with a great big warehouse and lots of stock. And we'll charge you a teensy bit...

Indicates a way big bit

JIM

...more than we pay. And it will take anywhere from 4 days to 4 years. 

Now, would to like to give me your money?

The Shadow

(A little stunned at this turn of events)

Can you tell us how much it will cost?

JIM

(Retrieves a small pocket notebook from his pockets. This book is his magical power source, when it is open only dark things can happen and tourists need to be wary.)

Suuuuuuuuuuure I can. First I need to screw around on this computer, like I know what I'm doing. See, this computer here can tell me what the product id's are.

DAN

(Confused and a little dazed from the black magic Jim has unlocked)

Don't the price tags next to the items have the product id's on them? You just wrote them down.

JIM

(Senses victory)

Maybe. Maybe not. We'll just have to see what the computer says. It's the boss after all. Now...

stretches out, cracks knuckles and grabs the mouse

JIM

lets see... is it this website... 

Time passes

JIM

...no. Maybe this one....

Time passes

JIM

no...

THE SHADOW

(Murderously bored and clueless as to she is waiting for)

Maybe I can find it, why dont you go find the price list.

JIM

Sure.

Jim meanders off and returns three days later

JIM

My colleague found the site, its here...

Jim screws around on the computer for an hour but can't duplicate the website his colleague had open at another computer.

JIM

Maybe we should trek to his computer

Jim wanders off into the middle of the jungle. The ex-intrepid explorers hesitantly follow, wondering just what the hell is going on.

Jim screws around on another computer for three hours and writes down three product numbers into his little notebook. The product numbers match those previous written.

JIM

Alright, got the numbers. Let's get some prices.

Jim wanders off deeper into the jungle to yet another computer terminal. He ponderously and meticulously enters each product id into the computer and it spits out a price. The price is remarkably similar to that found on the wall next to where the products were actually placed.

JIM

Shall I put that into a quote?

THE SHADOW

(Not really paying attention anymore her brain has long since shutdown and gone somewhere else. Her mouth operates on auto-pilot)

Sure.

JIM

Ooooooo kaaaaaaay. 

Jim randomly presses some keys for a while.

JIM

(Smugly)

Oh, looks like the computer has crashed and needs to reboot. We'll just wait here a little while.

The Shadow and Dan look at each other, they mentally agree on a course of action.

The Shadow picks up the computer monitor from the desk and beats Jim into unconscious submission with it. She lords over the bleeding mess of skull and skin and brain and screams like a banshee into the night a bloodcurdling scream that frightens the other guides and they scurry off into little jungle dens. Dan grabs the pieces of paper with the product id's and the prices. Leaving behind a bloodied mess they run use a series of old goat trails to find their way out of the jungle and vow never, ever, ever to return to that particular jungle.

Rhomboids and f*&!#$g lathers

As the rebuild of the walls and ceiling continues so the bizarre building practices of the past continue to surface. It would appear prior to about the Year of Our Lord 1979 society was not aware of the set square, nor that a rectangular house is supposed to be, well, rectangular. But maybe the adherence to and worship of the almighty 90o angle is over-rated: RHOMBOID FTW! 

As the house extends to the back, so the house flares out like a pair of worn 70's jeans. In reality its minimal, but when rebuilding walls and planning for things that are cut square, like wood and plaster sheets and flooring, it makes a difference. In practice, it's keeping the Masters occupied.

We arrived on Saturday morning to find the front roof over the verandah being demolished. So long sun protection! I expect that if we do not put another lid over the house's forehead by summer it will break out in freckles. That could be adorable. And the front window will develop a rather nasty squint, looking into the northern sun. Not so adorable. 

More time spent looking at and for taps, tap-ware, tap-things and tap-doohickeys. I am a little bored of taps. I dont really even want to type the word tap anymore and will now just type ta- to signify a ta-. Especially as we have already selected the ta-s we want, stores seem somewhat unwilling to actually assist in the purchasing of the ta-s. A little weird, but I suppose companies prefer to lobby government for assistance than provide actual service. Who wants to deal with irate customers, better to yell at a public servant. What an age we live in, so far removed from traditional selling and buying. 

Some time was spent Sunday morning freeing yet another wall of its restrictive lather coverings. Well, it is now breathing freely, and after letting loose a rather long string of expletives in having to touch another goddam lather my lungs too were breathing freer, albeit angrier. The Shadow is considering starting up LEXCORP, Expert Lather Removers Corporation (bare with me, I wanted to use Lexcorp in a sentence) as she can now de-lather a wall in the time it takes a mortal person to ask, what the hell is a lather and why do I care? Ahh, once I was that mortal person, so carefree and my RSI came exclusively from computer mice and ps3 controllers and not from hammers.

The roof over the entrance has been torn down, poor house will need sunglasses now to protect it from the harsh northern sun.

Dirty weekend is electrifying

You may recall the rather large pile of dirt in the backyard? The one that was the excavated soil and what-not from the re-stumping? Two weeks ago the extra large pile was reduced to a large pile when we sent the wood and trees to the big backyard in the sky. This week, it was the dirts turn.

With a little help from a Dingo the dirt pile was loaded into the truck and then 'taken to the country' where it can run and play and chase sheep to its hearts content. Return, reload the truck, trash another load just before the tip closed at 1pm on Saturday.

Thankfully I had thought ahead and arranged for two skips to be delivered Saturday morning, and the two skips were filled Saturday afternoon. The end result, a rather small pile of dirt on the east fence and a mostly flattened backyard.

I'm still not entirely sure whether the backyard looks bigger or smaller now than it did before. In any case, its looks different.

No, I did not try the Dingo. Despite my pleas, screams, tantrum and threatening behaviour (I dont know who left the crowbar lying around but it probably won't happen again) I could not pry it from the Master's fingers - so engrossed in shifting dirt from A to B was he.

While dirt was moved in the sunshine, the re-electrifying of the house continued. There are now power cables everywhere. Anyone would think we were power junkies.

Taking dirt to the trip like a Boss - how it felt:

Mostly cleared backyard:

Another backyard shot:

Even more backyard:

Looking north from the fence line. Look closely to see an old friend:

Power!

New fuse box, now with cables:

New outdoor fuse box moved from head-height next to the front door to the side passage. No more banged heads!

Cables waiting for the Stage B component - the extension:

Bins of dirt are dirty:

Zzzzzzz

A quiet weekend for The Shadow and I; no labourious house stuff.

We took Saturday off to visit a friend. She recently moved from living 50m away to about 50 kabillion m away. To reach her new abode we had to travel by car, rail, buggy, camel, balloon and a short trip in the belly of a whale, to whom we were very grateful, and still not entirely sure how we ended up there. Lets just say that The Shadow's experiments with whale-song paid off. All the while stopping every so often to orient ourselves using a compass, sextant, the stars, and an 1882 Melways (most up-to-date roads for the area). But it was worth travelling from the cbd to The Middle Earth Middle Of Nowhere Outback Patch, it was a grand afternoon.

Sunday we spent resting and shopping. Still trying to track down the perfect tapware for the bathroom. The hunt continues.

While The Shadow and I enjoyed our quiet weekend we left The Master to continue [re]building the internal walls. The electrician also started his work: re-wiring the house for electrifying awesome.

By the time we finally got to the house, between early and mid Sunday afternoon, both Master and Sparky had packed up and gone. We shrugged happily and ended our Sunday restfully.