Popcorn! Get Your Popcorn!
I have to say….life is lessons. I had an epiphany of sorts on Tuesday. I can’t say that it was a lightning bolt as it was more like a storm and then the clearing. The parting of the dark clouds to a blue brilliance bathed in light. More like that.
I have realized that all of my musings, or let’s be honest shall we, my ravings for the past few months have been terribly off the mark. I shudder at the misdirection of my sword-like pen, because I realize that there is but one real enemy in this country. One true enemy.
Popcorn ceilings.
The sprayed on concoction of coagulated plaster that graces far too many ceilings in this country. It is this type of ceiling that with no effort whatsoever grabs every drop of grease or any available adherent which in turn attracts every hair fiber from every being in the house, spider webs, as well as dust and the bevy of creatures that delight in that environment. And there is no way to clean it. Wipe it and your are covered with popcorn confetti.
I have to say that I came very close to Googling the inventor of popcorn ceiling but I thought that perhaps it would be better if I didn’t have that kind of personal information at my disposal.
I love my house. I think it has become such an expression of us. We have many things we want to do to it, but for now it has been resourcefulness that has added value to our home. However, I hate the popcorn ceiling. I found out through a friend that there is this great treatment that one can do to walls which involved brown packaging paper and liquid starch. Tear up random pieces of paper and soak them in the starch. Squeeze it out. Stick it on the wall. Brilliant.
I decided to attempt this treatment in the half bath downstairs. Incredible. It looked like distressed leather. My eyes, as usual, wandered up. The popcorn ceiling. Blach! I wondered if the treatment would work on the ceiling. I put a couple of pieces up and left. When I came back – wow! It worked! I was so onto something with this! The answer! Inexpensive. Dramatic. Awe-some.
I started ripping up paper and buying up liquid starch. I started in the entry and worked my way back to the kitchen breakfast room and finally the den. I can’t tell you how long it took, but my shoulders and arms were absolutely crazy sore. It looked spectacular. My husband was so thrilled with it he bought crown moulding and our little home was shaping up.
In November we got our first cold snap. I had the windows and doors open because it had been so hot all day. I reclined on the couch and it washed over me – this cool crisp fresh air blowing in from the north. Fantastic. We all took our spots on the various couches and chairs in the room. We were watching TV when we noticed popping. Cracking. Pops so loud that we thought it was gunfire. Fireworks are banned in our area but of course we have boys in the neighborhood so it wasn’t all that uncommon to have different fireworks going every now and then. But this was loud. We all went outside but saw nothing. We came back in and resumed watching TV.
What’s that? My husband said pointing over head. A huge crack in the ceiling. The ceiling was contracting with the cold, and the brown starched paper was not going anywhere. It started pulling away, cracking, popping, ripping, it was awful. The boys said “Mom! Go upstairs! You don’t need to see this!”
I did.
The boys and Lance cleared every scrap of paper away from the house. White crumbs of varying sizes blanketed everything downstairs. The fine dust gets on all glass, into crevices, every eating and drinking surface. The bits are everywhere. It is impossible to get it all. Since November we have had this ceiling that the boys actually don’t mind since they think it looks “ghetto”.
Uh huh.
While they’re at their dad’s house for spring break I have decided to redo the entry, kitchen, breakfast and den area ceiling.
There is nothing redeeming about this stuff. I cannot understand why anyone would think this is a good idea.
I want to know – how did this happen?
How was popcorn ceiling ever allowed to exist?
I am almost to the den. But I have figured out that my attacks on this current administration have been short sighted. Things started going to hell long before W came into office, he just added the oil & gas to get us moving in that direction a whole lot faster. No, the deterioration and inevitable demise of mankind can be pinpointed, historically. It was upon the invention of popcorn ceilings. I’m not planning on researching this, there are some things you just know to be true.
Progress Update: Yesterday, I started painting since I was fed up with the popcorn removal. Lovely orange and red combo with a yellow glaze over. Quite delightful. I cannot paint without ensuring that portions of said paint exist in my hair, on my face and over at least half of my clothing at all times. I got most of the entry done, and I painted the walls a green color that my husband picked out which initially made me think of cat vomit, but it’s actually quite nice. I then went into the den to move everything around and complete the pointless task of covering all the furniture and flat surfaces. Like that helps at all. And again with the scraping.
So you have the image right? Orange, red, yellow and cat vomit green….and now white viscous plaster muck as well as the mandatory white dust is all over me.
Ding…..dong.
Oh. But of course. This stands to reason. I go to the door and look through the peephole. Hells no I’m not opening the door! I have paint and gunk all over me. It’s my house! I didn’t invite anyone over! I have a right to privacy!
It’s two girls with a puppy.
Drats! A puppy! They know me too well, sucker to small animals that I am.
I open the door and the girls step back…a bit horrified.
I feel like one of those crazy neighbors that exist in all neighborhoods, the kind that kids dare each other to ding-dong-ditch or to other such near death experiences.
The two girls are friends of my youngest. Any girl in my son’s age bracket (that would be “teenage”) is considered a friend…or potential friend (wink). They found a pit bull puppy and it just so happens that a neighbor had come by a while ago having lost two of her new puppies – one of which was a pit bull. Cute little guy. The girls knew we had a lot of dogs (just four!) and thought it might be one of ours. We chatted and I pointed them in the right direction.
Nice break.
Back to hell.
I continued stripping this bile off my ceiling until I stepped down from the ladder onto the stepstool and the stepstool flew out from underneath me.
Not pretty.
Could have been so much worse.
I’m gardening at my mom’s today.
I have to say….life is lessons. I had an epiphany of sorts on Tuesday. I can’t say that it was a lightning bolt as it was more like a storm and then the clearing. The parting of the dark clouds to a blue brilliance bathed in light. More like that.
I have realized that all of my musings, or let’s be honest shall we, my ravings for the past few months have been terribly off the mark. I shudder at the misdirection of my sword-like pen, because I realize that there is but one real enemy in this country. One true enemy.
Popcorn ceilings.
The sprayed on concoction of coagulated plaster that graces far too many ceilings in this country. It is this type of ceiling that with no effort whatsoever grabs every drop of grease or any available adherent which in turn attracts every hair fiber from every being in the house, spider webs, as well as dust and the bevy of creatures that delight in that environment. And there is no way to clean it. Wipe it and your are covered with popcorn confetti.
I have to say that I came very close to Googling the inventor of popcorn ceiling but I thought that perhaps it would be better if I didn’t have that kind of personal information at my disposal.
I love my house. I think it has become such an expression of us. We have many things we want to do to it, but for now it has been resourcefulness that has added value to our home. However, I hate the popcorn ceiling. I found out through a friend that there is this great treatment that one can do to walls which involved brown packaging paper and liquid starch. Tear up random pieces of paper and soak them in the starch. Squeeze it out. Stick it on the wall. Brilliant.
I decided to attempt this treatment in the half bath downstairs. Incredible. It looked like distressed leather. My eyes, as usual, wandered up. The popcorn ceiling. Blach! I wondered if the treatment would work on the ceiling. I put a couple of pieces up and left. When I came back – wow! It worked! I was so onto something with this! The answer! Inexpensive. Dramatic. Awe-some.
I started ripping up paper and buying up liquid starch. I started in the entry and worked my way back to the kitchen breakfast room and finally the den. I can’t tell you how long it took, but my shoulders and arms were absolutely crazy sore. It looked spectacular. My husband was so thrilled with it he bought crown moulding and our little home was shaping up.
In November we got our first cold snap. I had the windows and doors open because it had been so hot all day. I reclined on the couch and it washed over me – this cool crisp fresh air blowing in from the north. Fantastic. We all took our spots on the various couches and chairs in the room. We were watching TV when we noticed popping. Cracking. Pops so loud that we thought it was gunfire. Fireworks are banned in our area but of course we have boys in the neighborhood so it wasn’t all that uncommon to have different fireworks going every now and then. But this was loud. We all went outside but saw nothing. We came back in and resumed watching TV.
What’s that? My husband said pointing over head. A huge crack in the ceiling. The ceiling was contracting with the cold, and the brown starched paper was not going anywhere. It started pulling away, cracking, popping, ripping, it was awful. The boys said “Mom! Go upstairs! You don’t need to see this!”
I did.
The boys and Lance cleared every scrap of paper away from the house. White crumbs of varying sizes blanketed everything downstairs. The fine dust gets on all glass, into crevices, every eating and drinking surface. The bits are everywhere. It is impossible to get it all. Since November we have had this ceiling that the boys actually don’t mind since they think it looks “ghetto”.
Uh huh.
While they’re at their dad’s house for spring break I have decided to redo the entry, kitchen, breakfast and den area ceiling.
There is nothing redeeming about this stuff. I cannot understand why anyone would think this is a good idea.
I want to know – how did this happen?
How was popcorn ceiling ever allowed to exist?
I am almost to the den. But I have figured out that my attacks on this current administration have been short sighted. Things started going to hell long before W came into office, he just added the oil & gas to get us moving in that direction a whole lot faster. No, the deterioration and inevitable demise of mankind can be pinpointed, historically. It was upon the invention of popcorn ceilings. I’m not planning on researching this, there are some things you just know to be true.
Progress Update: Yesterday, I started painting since I was fed up with the popcorn removal. Lovely orange and red combo with a yellow glaze over. Quite delightful. I cannot paint without ensuring that portions of said paint exist in my hair, on my face and over at least half of my clothing at all times. I got most of the entry done, and I painted the walls a green color that my husband picked out which initially made me think of cat vomit, but it’s actually quite nice. I then went into the den to move everything around and complete the pointless task of covering all the furniture and flat surfaces. Like that helps at all. And again with the scraping.
So you have the image right? Orange, red, yellow and cat vomit green….and now white viscous plaster muck as well as the mandatory white dust is all over me.
Ding…..dong.
Oh. But of course. This stands to reason. I go to the door and look through the peephole. Hells no I’m not opening the door! I have paint and gunk all over me. It’s my house! I didn’t invite anyone over! I have a right to privacy!
It’s two girls with a puppy.
Drats! A puppy! They know me too well, sucker to small animals that I am.
I open the door and the girls step back…a bit horrified.
I feel like one of those crazy neighbors that exist in all neighborhoods, the kind that kids dare each other to ding-dong-ditch or to other such near death experiences.
The two girls are friends of my youngest. Any girl in my son’s age bracket (that would be “teenage”) is considered a friend…or potential friend (wink). They found a pit bull puppy and it just so happens that a neighbor had come by a while ago having lost two of her new puppies – one of which was a pit bull. Cute little guy. The girls knew we had a lot of dogs (just four!) and thought it might be one of ours. We chatted and I pointed them in the right direction.
Nice break.
Back to hell.
I continued stripping this bile off my ceiling until I stepped down from the ladder onto the stepstool and the stepstool flew out from underneath me.
Not pretty.
Could have been so much worse.
I’m gardening at my mom’s today.
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