Lies, Damn Lies, and People Who've Tiled

No! I will not set the float down and step away from the tile saw! I am going to stay right here until I am heard dammit.

"Tiling is easy" they said. Who is they, you ask? Everybody I've mentioned this little project to, that's who. "I'm tiling the bathroom," I would say. "Oh, tiling is easy. I did a wall/floor/basilica," they would reply. I believed. Why would they lie to me?

So I went and got books on how to tile and the history of tile and tiling made fun for the whole family. And I read these books and I believed. I could not find the lies. The books showed pictures of tiling done correctly. A few photos even showed what not to do. I thought this was great. I thought the books were on my side.

I still wasn't sure, though. I would stand in the bathroom and study the tub surround and then look at the books and then ask people questions and then go back to stare at the tub surround. It seemed the two worlds were not connected. The books were of one universe and my tub surround was of another. I was apparently the link between the two but I could not see how.

For example, the books said "mix the thin set according to the manufacturer's instructions." I looked at the package and read only "mix water and mortar for 5-10 minutes. Let stand for 5-10 minutes." No info on how much water or how much mortar. Back to the book for: "not too watery and not too dry." Swell. You know what? I'm not stupid. I understand extremes. I get it. But where is the in between? What is good enough?

I covered the floor and the tub with plastic and cardboard to protect everything for inadvertent mortar droppings. And it's a good f*&#ing thing I did because the mortar wanted to be anywhere but on the wall. You know what else is missing from the damn books: how to get the mortar from the bucket to the wall. What tool does that? Is it a tool I've already been loaned by the liars? The books show mortar on the wall, being smeared then combed. Books show no method for getting mortar on the wall in the first place. The bathroom looks like I'm trying to replicate the pyramids minus the large stones.

After day one of 4 hours and about eight tiles I stopped. I know myself. I need a day to process what I've done here and think about it and look at the books again and–Hey! I'll check out YouTube! Great idea!

Bullpucky. Will somebody please post a video showing the reality of tiling a wall? Nothing but f*&#ing success in those goshdarned videos. Nothing showing how to deal with really small spaces or tile orientation in interior corners or saving space for the corner shelf. Only big smooth walls being tiled by women in short shorts at double-speed or large floors being tiled by men who keep flashing their bellies (wtf?) when the camera is on them. Nothing showing how the damn mortar gets from the bucket to the wall without making a detour on the floor or a leg or other random object.

So to all you people who have said "tiling is easy" I say go jump in a bucket. You lied by omission. I'm calling someone who has the skills and understanding to bridge the gap between these fictional books and the reality that is my empty wall.

Put the water down and no one will get hurt

Here's another cycle of three, gang, and it involves the mother of all chemical bonds: H-2-O.

Item the First: we did some recreational plumbing and created quite a display here at Meanwhile Manor. We call our installation "Water on a Perch."


Check back for a very detailed—i.e., possible boring—post on the creation of said plumbing contraption. The purpose of this project was to collect rainwater for the garden and flowers. The barrels are all connected and there is a hose attached that goes off to the veggie beds. We worked on it the entire 4th of July weekend. The date stands out because it hasn't rained since and all these barrels sit empty. I believe Poseidon must be giggling his gills off. We hustled to get all the pipes connected and checked for leaks for what? For three solid weeks of nothing but sun. Remind me of this whining when I'm sobbing about being soggy during the winter.

Items that overlap the First: I'm reading Bottlemania, a pleasant little tome about the privatization of water. If you think the battles over oil are a little extreme, just wait a smidge longer for the water wars, gang. Humans can't live without water. So why do we allow corporations to own it? I can own this piece of land but, Mr. Nestlé, what happens when your well over there sucks our common aquifer dry? Do I have any recourse? How far underground does the law reach? Is it actually "my" water in the aquifer that you have stolen/borrowed/slapped a label on and sold? What are the surrounding towns going to do when the public water tower is dry and you have all the water sitting in little plastic bottles, available for over twenty times the price?

I'm eagerly waiting for my barrels to fill while I ponder the moral tangle that is the right to not be thirsty. I'm feeling all righteous with my bad ol' self. I'm waiting for a drizzle in which I can do a happy dance. I'm calculating just what it is I will be collecting: the Monolith garage is about 30x30 feet and one inch of rain results in 561 gallons of water coming off that roof. Gee, if I only had a barrel to store it in. Well, I now have five barrels and see the system increasing to 12 barrels for reasons of symmetry and volume. The T then brought this article to my attention and therein lies the rub.

Item the Third: Washington state has an "archaic" law that is poorly defined and may result in my next posting coming from the Big House, thanks to my barrels. From the state Dept. of Ecology site:

• (link) The waters of Washington State collectively belong to the public and cannot be owned by any one individual or group. Instead, individuals or groups may be granted rights to use them. A water right is a legal authorization to use a predefined quantity of public water for a designated purpose. This purpose must qualify as a beneficial use. Beneficial use involves the application of a reasonable quantity of water to a non-wasteful use, such as irrigation, domestic water supply, or power generation, to name a few. An average household uses about 300 gallons of water per day.

• (link) Washington State, like most of the rest of the western United States follows the Prior Appropriation Doctrine, the major tenet being first in time, first in right. State law defines water resources as “all water above, upon, or beneath the surface of the earth, located within the state.” RCW 43.27A.020. Rainwater is therefore legally considered a water resource of the State.

Where things really get fuzzy is when you ask "how much water can I collect to stay off the radar of The Man?" At what point do I go from doing a resourceful thing that is within my rights because it is beneficial to committing a crime because the water belongs to the state? Is it the addition of the sixth barrel that will bring the authorities? Granted, the measurement may be different for me here just east of the Hoh Rainforest than it is for the farmers in central Washington where the land is irrigable only because of the Columbia River. I see now the difficulty in writing a single state law when the state is split like Sybil.


Well, I'm off to check the forecast. Other link(s) for your perusal:
HarvestH2O

My, that plant is green

Our little garden plot is FINALLY a success! After three years of planting seeds and starter plants only to watch them shrivel up and die, we are at long last eating veggies we have grown ourselves! Woo-and-Hoo, baby!

So what did we do different this year as compared to other years? Well, for starters, I have it through my thick head at long last that my own level of thirst is in no way related to the need of the plants for water. Just because I am lounging on my stoop enjoying the cooling of the sun and listening to the twittering of the birds in all comfort and ease, I should not project this feeling of calm and peace onto the plants who may very well be gasping for water. So, tips #1 and #2 and #3 for all you aspirant farmers out there: Water, water and then water some more.

The other thing we did different this year was add our own compost to the soil mix. We started the garden box three years ago with a bag of compost, a bag of (something else I cannot remember now) and many purchased bags of soil/dirt/potting mixture. We needed to haul in all the dirt-type stuff because our entire 50'x150' city plot is nothing but backfill from the foundation hole. My little joke yesterday about mowing the lawn in my barefeet? Ain't gonna happen, folks—at least not until the high priest teaches me how to walk across burning coals with no shoes on. Now that I think about it, it is probably a good thing I use a non-electric sheep to mow the lawn. If I was running something with an engine, I might very well be flinging projectiles from my lawn through the neighbors' windows. A lush carpet my yard is not. Where was I? Oh yes! Our compost.

Our compost is a lush rich mix of all the veggies from years past that were lovingly selected, purchased, transported to our home only to be abandoned in the veggie drawer to rot. In addition to these former plants, the major ingredient in our compost comes from our morning mugs: coffee grounds and tea leaves. A little mental math tells us that it is too early in the morning for me to try to compute anything so let's go with the round figure of tons of coffee and tea sitting in the compost bin. We have some happy, happy worms in that bin. They only have to crawl over to the next deposit of kitchen refugees and they get a jolt of chemical glee that keeps 'em gnawing and digesting and excreting with a sparkle in their eye ... eyes? ... do worms have optical organs?

Anyway, I believe that the main reason our veggie patch is doing so well this year is because the plants are caffeinated from the compost!! The broccoli is HUGE—and it hums! The spring peas are multitudinous—and I swear the buds wink at me when I walk by. That unknown root plant is monstrous—I'm afraid to pick it. Could it have limbs? The lettuce plant is trying to keep up with the broccoli but I fear the broccoli have formed a gang and beat up on the lettuce when my back is turned. Actually, we were so caught off guard by successful plants that we crammed things in a little too tightly when planting. Honestly, I didn't know broccoli could get that big so I think we planted more in the box than we should have. Thus, I now have guilt over setting up the lettuce to be the runt of the garden. sigh

I'm off to water the veggie patch and admire the results thus far and keep my fingers and toes out of the reach of the broccoli gang.