An inquisitive old fart with a camera
The act of making some small changes to something, in an attempt to improve it or repair it.
Another chore put off for the better part of 15 years: for the first time, those doors close properly. What makes it sweeter is that the jack plane wasn’t functional before I started, and I was able to engineer a solution to that. Wonderful tool when it works!
Not long after we moved in, I had the bright idea to insulate the roof above our bedroom. I started with the north (sunny, because we live in the southern hemisphere) side, ripping little 1×1″ strips to support thin tongue-and-groove lambriz pieces, above which I installed fiberglass insulation.
I seems fairly straightforward until you recall this was an owner-built house, meaning that the ceiling beams are not only not evenly spaced, they’re not even necessarily parallel. So I could only cut strips for a foot or two at a time before I’d have to measure again, scramble down the ladder and downstairs to cut more pieces, slightly longer or shorter.
Which is part of the reason I didn’t proceed with the south side as well (which btw still gets plenty of sun in the summer).
The problem lay in finishing each row at the top. They ended with a gap, and insulation showing. After staring at that for far too long, I finally decided I needed a solution. It’s a bit complicated to explain, but required more lambriz, clamping and gluing, a template, drilling and installing screws, among other things.
All while balancing on the penultimate step of an eight-foot folding ladder.
One of those small projects that makes all the difference, if only to me. Oh, and one fun detail. I bought one piece of lambriz – 3.3 meters – and this is what was left over when the project was done 😉
It wasn’t an impulse purchase; it was an imperative purchase. When these abruptly appeared on display at the local hardware store, I knew I had to have one. An extra foot of reach, a convenient way to work in low spots without squatting or kneeling on the ground.
It’s only been a few days, and i wonder how I ever functioned without it.
…my little workshop of horrors is back in business, ready for the next bout of impulsive, poorly-thought-out tinkering with dangerous power tools.
UPDATE – just found a “before” photo:
You could look at these photos and imagine that I was motivated to start painting the barbacoa (which would be a parrillera if still open-sided, but we closed it in) simply because it needed to be spruced up a bit. Just a bit.
In fact, a major motivation was the need to use paint. I bought 20 liters to do the interior of our little house in the country (for sale!), and discovered I could get by with touching-up, leaving me a lot of interior paint in search of a purpose.
We’re in an odd stretch of almost-summery weather, when pressure-washed walls—yes, they need it—dry relatively quickly. So, next: the complete dismantling of everything on the right side (ugh).
And I hate storing almost-empty almost-dried-up paint buckets from jobs done years before.
After struggling with a paint tray—where do you put it so you won’t step in it or knock it over? How do you get paint on the whole roller, instead of just one side?—I consulted the guys painting the front of our house.
Simple, if not exactly easy (bit of a learning curve): use 20-liter can and a piece of wood.
Armed with that knowledge, I tackled the next part of our cochera (carport).
Definitely more efficient. As for my work, the usual: not perfect, but not bad.
Think it might be a good idea to try to clean the discolored plastic that obscures the numbers on the ancient outdoor thermometer? Think again!
On the bright side, we have a new item for the “Things That Should Not Be Taken Apart” category. Live and learn!
In the Faceborg Uruguay “Experts” (Expats) Community group, people complain bitterly about substandard crap sold here. And they’re right. Recently it was vacuum cleaners that last two years before burning out.
However, that is not us in this case: our Electrolux has been going strong for 15 years—with one exception: the filter cartridge, with three little plastic tabs/flanges that secure it in place. One by one they broke. Only belatedly did I discover the reason: my slamming the thing against the top of the trash bucket to shake dust loose.
My original solution involved epoxy and metal washers, but eventually they fall off. I don’t know why I avoided a more invasive approach, but I woke up one morning recently realizing that a mechanical attachment was the answer. A screw. Because there are a gazillion types of plastic, it’s unlikely I’d find a glue that will actually keep everything together. The screw will, and a little epoxy will prevent shear, i.e. twisting.
What to use for material? See top center of the photo above. This is why I don’t automatically get rid of things like a cheap plastic kitchen spatula that was left in the house when we bought it.
Its thickness turns out to be perfect. So, now to replace the other two?
Nah—if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!
You may think you are looking at a rusting dishwasher that has been used mainly as a drying rack for the last 15 years, and is now useless, since the control panel no longer works and water from wet dishes can’t be pumped out.
But, after a more thorough disassembling than was really needed, and some rewiring, it has now become a rusting 15 year old dishwasher with only one function: the on-off power button now turns on the water drainage pump.
And nothing else.
Yea!
14 years ago, we had a New Year’s Eve party in our parilla, which we had turned into a barbacoa by enclosing it. 10-12 people, and LOUD! Unbefreakinglievably LOUD in that little, masonry-walled closed-in space!
So I decided it would work better as a workshop, and added bits of 2×2″ wood to the L-shaped legs of the dining table I had thrown together for the occasion, raising it to workbench height (you can see remnants of legs lower left).
A few days ago I bought some mostly-clear 4X4″ pine, cut to length, and a 1×2″ strip to create a better overlap on the top front for clamping, and 8cm lag screws (imagine – not just smacking it together with nails as I did before!).
Finally, sturdy support for the workbench.
But it raises a significant question: Why didn’t I do this (at least) 12 years ago?