Do You Ever Have One Of Those Days?

One of those days where you'd like to put your fist through a wall?

Today, I had one of those days. A frustrated-I-don't-like-that-one-bit day. A you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-where-are-the-hidden-cameras-day. A can-I-have-a-few-words-with-you-as-I'm-kicking-you-in-the-shins day. I was angry. Like, really ticked off. Mad in a way that I hadn't been in a long time.

That being the case, the timing could not have been better. I mean, the name of my blog is Tearing Up Houses, right? And I just happened to have a house that needed to be torn up a bit this afternoon. And it didn't hurt that I happened to be feeling a wee bit violent.

Mix those together, and I had a perfectly good excuse to attack our home with a large hammer.

What was I pummeling?

The wall I pulled my Chris Brown on is the teensy one with the arch above the stairs. It's on the very left in the photo.



(Yes, if you follow my adventures, this is the first peek you're getting at the Living Area in The Historic House By The Water. Some of you may have just thrown up in your mouth a little. It's okay. You're allowed to be horrified. And, yes, you may proceed with your tangerine joke. And your fake and bake Tara Reid tanning joke. And your How-in-the-heck-did-they-manage-to-find-a-ceiling-fan-that-ugly question. Go on.)

In reality, I only swung at it a few times (which was enough venting for my triceps), and then my contractors did a few waves with their sparkly plaster dust wands. And presto-chango, it disappeared. Contractors are magical like that.

So why did we remove it?

Well, depending on who you ask, it's a funny little story.

First, it annoyed me that it was a smaller scale than the arch above the dining room. It left the living area feeling imbalanced, especially since all of the other windows in the room are placed symmetrically, and these openings were not. Second, the arches are not period details. They were actually added later, which I confirmed by the construction once the wall was opened up. Third, you know that Guest Bedroom (which, by the way, I totally owe you an update on) that we've been plugging away at? Well it would be wonderful if it had, say, a bed. Specifically, my favorite bed of all time. My beloved mahogany guest bed that was hand carved overseas and that I adore almost enough to make a member of our family. You know, the one that doesn't fit up the stairwell.

That's right.



The stupid big bed wouldn't fit up the stupid little stairway.

Which we found out as we were holding that HEAVY SOLID MAHOGANY bed frame halfway up the first portion of the stairwell. Did I mention that I was the one holding the bottom part? You know, THE HEAVY PART? What kind of cruel human being carved this bed so that it was not suit case size collapsible? And not able to fit up a 1920s stairwell? The audacity. I'll tell you what kind. The kind of monster who searches for years and years to find the heaviest F------G piece of mahogany in the entire forest and then chips away at it as their tree butchering self cracks up at the thought of us TRYING TO PLAY TWISTER WITH AN INANIMATE OBJECT THAT WEIGHS MORE THAN I DO.

But I digress.

"We can sell the bed," Andrew suggested. No, honey, we can't.

I love that stupid, heavy, mahogany bed.

And so it was decided. And men were hired.

And, apparently, they came on just the right day. And at just the right time. Because it was one of those days. And I was oh-so-ready for them. And oh-so-ready for that stupid wall. And, well, just take a look-see for yourself...




Seeeeeeya, arched wall.



(Don't worry, that awful Scarface style security system is being replaced. And, of course, we're painting. Gawd, are we painting.)

Mr. Mahogany Bed, I'm coming for you. We have a score to settle.