Karen and I recently moved into what is possibly the last house in which we'll live until retirement. We bought it from a kindly ninety-year-old World War II widow who, after her husband died, decided to lighten the mood in their home by redecorating. Ordinarily, this wouldn't provoke much comment, as the notion that a change in one's residence to improve the mood is quite typical. To be sure, there are differences of opinion as to what constitutes good taste, and certainly beauty continues to be in the eye of the beholder, but there is probably one decorative accessory that provokes very visceral reactions.
That accessory would be wallpaper.
I've only had one other experience with wallpapering, and it was relatively benign, given that my involvement was minimal. That, in hindsight, was both a blessing and a mistake.
The house into which we moved has four rooms that were, to varying degrees, wallpapered. Two only had wallpaper borders at the tops and bottoms of the walls. One, the kitchen, has a very blasé wallpapering from floor to ceiling, with banners across the tops of the walls. It's unattractive, but nowhere near the eyesore that confronted us in the master bedroom and bathroom. Those who are mathematically gifted will point out that the two bedrooms with borders, the kitchen, the master bedroom AND the master bathroom count as five rooms, and technically, that would be correct from a purely empirical standpoint. The difference with my reckoning is twofold: The master bedroom and bathroom are connected by a doorway, as would be expected, and the same wallpaper was used in both rooms, thus making it seem as if it was one big room and not two separate rooms.
And it's not just the same wallpaper, but the most nauseating, wretched, seizure-inducing floral print floor-to-ceiling wallpaper man ever invented. We warned people not to look too long at it for fear they would suffer dementia or be traumatized to the point of dizzy spells, delusions and/or apoplexy.
That woman was so proud of her wallpaper that she even accessorized it. More of that later.
Anyhow, having now tackled the master bedroom out of not only necessity but urgency, I've learned a thing or two about removing wallpaper. I offer, therefore, free of charge, my suggestions on how to remove wallpaper that may confront a home buyer that isn't enough to nullify the purchase but that requires its removal forthwith:
1. Buy a house without wallpaper. I'm not being facetious.
2. If one cannot avoid my first suggestion, here are some tools that are are indispensable to the successful removal or wallpaper:
a. Scraper. Get the metal one. Trust me. The plastic ones are all right, but not for a monumental task.
b. Tarp. You'll need it.
c. Vacuum. You'll need it no matter how much tarp you put down.
d. Stepstool. Unless, of course, you qualify to play in the NBA. That is, unless you're Mugsy Boggs.
e. Spray bottle. This will moisten the wallpaper making it easier to remove, after you use...
f. Wallpaper scorer. This perforates the wallpaper, allowing the moisture to penetrate it more quickly.
g. A wallpaper steamer. This item is truly the key component to successful wallpaper removal.
h. Patience. An infinite amount of patience.
i. Lacking patience, booze. Not copious amounts, mind you, because one could be scalded from improper use of the wallpaper steamer.
j. Garbage bags. No matter how well one removes wallpaper, multiple bags will be necessary.
k. Liquid chemical compound that is sprayed on the perforated wallpaper to loosen it once it's steamed to make scraping it easier.
l. Spackle. No matter what, it will be needed.
3. Really, buy a house without any wallpaper. If one follows this advice, step 2 and its attendant purchases are rendered unnecessary.
Our task was made Herculean by virtue of the fact that the people who applied the wallpaper (presumably the seller's children, because she was too old to have done this by herself) did so in such a slap-dash manner that they used too much glue in places, overlapped pieces in others and applied it all directly onto the painted walls that were painted without the benefit of primer. When we got done stripping the four walls of the master bedroom, the spackle jobs we had to do to repair the walls prior to painting it made it look like a dog with a horrible case of mange. Given that the faucets were put in backwards, that is, with hot being cold and cold being hot, it's not surprising that the former owners came from a particular ethnic group (with which I share the gene pool) that fosters plenty of jokes, would apply the wallpaper in the most ham-fisted way possible.
Essentially, we lost a week of our lives stripping the wallpaper, spackling and sanding the walls and then painting and replacing the wall plates in the master bedroom. For now, we'll suffer through the rest of the summer and early fall before tackling the master bathroom. The kitchen will also be stripped and painted during the fall. Thankfully, we already have the necessary tools for the jobs. Patience is slowly being restored while we unpack boxes and put pictures on the walls.
Yes, it could have been avoided had we not bought the house, but the lot is wonderful, the location preferable and the house itself otherwise ideal for our needs. Removing wallpaper is no picnic, and it's no fun on any level, but it is possible.
The one nice thing about this is that Karen, upon hearing how much the wallpaper meant to the seller, decided that at the appropriate time, she'd frame a section of the wallpaper and send it to her at the assisted living location where she now resides. We're not sure what that gesture might do to the lady, since she truly valued the wallpaper and how it made her feel.
In fact, it meant so much to her that she told Karen at the closing that she was leaving the hand towels that matched the wallpaper so we'd have the full effect. Needless to say, we were tickled at her gesture, since we'd decided the minute we saw the room of horrors that that wallpaper was coming down. By no means do we intend to insult the seller, rather give her a tangible memory of the home she loved so much. And we certainly can't give her back the towels.
I'd rather use them to wipe the sweat off our brows from having to work so hard to remove the wallpaper, to shield our eyes from the wallpaper remaining in the master bathroom or to use to wipe the tears from our eyes after we've finally removed the last of the wallpaper in the house.
(c) 2014 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
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