I finally got fed up with the full-size bed in the master bedroom. Who lives like this anyways?
Imagine me. Jammed in there. 5’9″ body hardly fitting end-to-end. I was too used to my feet overhanging the end. And I had had enough of that.
The master bedroom – my gray, cozy, iron headboard-ed dwelling – had been arranged this way for over a year. It’s no different from what you’ve seen before (like here, when it made it’s grand reveal) except that I removed the down comforter from the IKEA duvet and have only been sleeping beneath the top sheet and the duvet cover. It’s pure light-yet-warm-and-clean fun, I tell ya. A true summertime treat.
But get this: The guest room mattress was queen-sized. I brought it home last winter. How well do I treat my guests? That well. More comfortable than me well.
But don’t focus on how undecorated and unassembled the room is overall. Just focus on the queen mattress, because that’s what I’m swooning over today after spending another night with my ankles uncomfortably resting over the foot of the bed. Visual guest room happiness is clearly not top of mind over here (yet), but I had comfort nailed down. Shucks, I hadn’t even bought or made a bed skirt. Or tucked in the top sheet nicely.
Switching the smaller bed with the larger guest room mattress had crossed my mind before, although last time I played around and made the switch I wasn’t happy with how tightly the queen fit in the much-smaller master bedroom. It seemed too tall given the shorter ceilings, too wide for to all of the windows, and too large for the fit-for-a-full-size iron headboard.
But when I gave consideration to how the larger bed might fit if not for the metal framing and the iron headboard, I thought the queen bed might just work out in my favor. So I flip-flopped the beds and made some executive decisions in another moment of trial (hoping desperately that it wouldn’t be an error because those damn mattresses aren’t easy to move).
When it came right on down to it, the guest room hardly changed at all visually. The only obvious change is that the bedskirt is over yonder now. The bed even aligned just fine under the herringbone headboard (I DIY’ed that, you know, and you can find out how right here).
On the other hand, the master, my new little lair, looks much improved now. A little low-rise swanky room if you ask me. And hopefully you read that right; I said swanky, not low-rise skanky, like some shorts I didn’t want to be seeing at the beach yesterday afternoon.
And I decided that I really should start ironing my bedding before it’s on international bloggy-dom. Whatever, we’re all snuggly, duvet-crunching humans, right?
I’m still fussing with how the bed sits beneath the window; we use enough pillows for it not to be an issue when we’re sleeping against it, but should it directly beneath the window, or am I content to keep it a smidgen off center and balance the variance out with art just because I’m allowed to do what I want? The reason it can’t go further left and perfectly centered (as shown in the next photo) is because the IKEA bedside table is wedged between the bed and the wall where the dresser had been previously. It may need to move to the other side of the bed if centering is the ultimate gameplan.
Did I mention it’s way cushier than the old mattress? Sorry guests. I’ll be working on updating and beautifying your room soon enough if it’s any concession.
P.S. Project Runway tonight!
Damn you, troublesome windows.
See, the foundation of the house is poured concrete, but only rises about 8″ above the surface of the earth. Baked right into the foundation were five windows that I had replaced last November with a more durable glassblock variety. The windows that were there weren’t sitting in the foundation like you’d regularly encounter though; instead, they sat on the base and were wrapped in house framing. Weird? According to Craig, the handy and highly-recommended glassblock man (and my new savior-slash-best friend), only 2-3% of the houses he worked on had this “condition”. And yes, I’ll call it a condition because for awhile after he explained the issues, I felt like my house would never be cured.
Last fall when I quoted the job with him, Craig didn’t even want to treat me. Not me, I mean them. The windows. It’s not that they weren’t ideal candidates for glassblock replacement, but the manner that they’d need to be framed from the outside made it an overly complex job, and while he rocks his own socks off when it comes to the mortaring and glassblocking thing, woodworking wasn’t something he was up for. I negotiated some more (and begged) and eventually he agreed to take on the job if Pete and I agreed to do the woodworking part separately, whether it be with a local handyman, or by ourselves. I don’t think there was eyelash batting involved with this do-my-job-or-else coercion, but there may have been.
Truthfully, his initial diagnosis of what we were going to find sounded way worse than what we were really left with, which looked like this:
Because of how the window needed to be installed, the previous layers of siding, insulation, and new siding were left exposed both to the elements and to anyone’s line of vision. That equals ugly. 8 months of ugly, if you want to be exact. Fortunately, only two of the windows along one side of the house are actually exposed to the everyday passerby, so we turned our focus on neatening those two up (two others look out beneath the deck, and one looks under the sunroom).
The solution, we decided, was to frame in the inset exposed area to make it appear purposeful, tidy, and completed. Oh, you know, like this, which is the completed look. Ooohs, ahhhs, yes. Keep reading to see how we did it.
See, what we did was line the left and right sides of the window with 1″ x 6″ pressure-treated board scraps that we had on hand from back when we built the front porch railings. Each window was a smidge different in depth, so we actually narrowed each board with the circular saw to be more about 1″ x 4.5″. There was enough of a surface with the exposed framing for us to nailgun too, so that’s what we did. You know how much we love that pancake compressor. I still think you all need to own one.
The extra trimmings from the boards we cut down were 1″ x 1.5″, and ended up being perfect to add an outer frame and neaten up the appearance of from the full frontal perspective. Sidenote: Get your mind out of the frontal gutter.
Anyways, nail gunning at it again, and hey, look, a picture of me at my peak of tan-ness. Sadly, it’s also as tan as I’ve been in 8 years. And I live at the beach.
Another sidenote: It was sunny-sunny-sunny by the time we worked on the second window; Pete insisted on DIY shade using the cardboard from the storm door (that has been used for various purposes and not yet recycled). That’s temporary resourcefulness if I’ve ever seen it.
I primed and painted them yesterday (using basic interior/exterior primer and part of the can of exterior Silver Leaf paint that I had bought when I painted the garage door and trim earlier in the month).
And the grand finale, which isn’t really the grand finale because I already showed it to you about 6 photos north:
Another sidenote: These photos also give a little sneakster-peekster of a in-progress project. You probably don’t notice unless you’re intimately involved with the exterior of my house, so stay tuned for another home improvement reveal in the next few days.
Painting a cast iron radiator is annoying, but inevitable if you want to keep up a not-so-rugged radiator appearance. Fortunately, once you do it, and if you do it right, it’ll be a surface that stands up to the heat, wear, tear, dog tails, and butt resting… for awhile, at least. Last week when I was having my stairwell fit about the how poorly the frame gallery meshed with the painted stairs, I was also in the midst of a new project: painting the entryway radiator. Generally speaking, I’ve seen worse; it wasn’t chipping paint or a completely out-of-place color, but it was still obvious that it hadn’t been refreshed in quite awhile.
I guess you could say that the entryway transformation has been a slow work-in-progress. The front door (and storm door) were replaced, and the vinyl floor was removed to leave a stamped cement surface that I painted gray; the walls, trim, and ceiling were painted, as was the hallway and stairwell that extend from the front door, but the radiator had remained untouched. And there it stood. Staring at me in its chipping, dirty, creamy-ivory-complexion state. From the couch in the living room it’s right within your line of sight, and it taunted me nightly.
My mom and dad had painted the radiators in their old house once or twice as I grew up; Mom insists that the last time she did it, she used straight-from-the-can latex paint. That was back in 1992. I’ll vouch for her that they turned out fine, even having taken a beating with us kids jumping around on them, yet only enduring only a bit of paint wear. But when I started planning what paints to use, everything I read and everyone I spoke to suggested using to an oil-based paint to stand up better to the heat avoid chipping.
A few referrals led me towards Rustoleum’s oil-based paint, which offers enough colors of paint to lend some but not all-out creativity (if you want red or yellow radiators, perhaps, which I’m not writing off), but I wanted to stick with gray. Plain white was an option too, but I wanted to try and make the radiator blend in rather than stand out when it came down to it, and against the venetian gold wall, gray compliments the golds, but still takes a backseat to the colorful striped stairs (which also feature a few shades of gray).
I had cleaned off and vacuumed the radiator prior to painting, but left it in it’s spot hooked to the floor and filled with water because you couldn’t have paid me to disassemble one of those once again. If you ever dare to remove one, go for it, but prepare to have about 4 strong men and maybe an elevator on hand. I felt reasonably confident in my decision to leave it put and paint with smaller brushes back inwards as far as I could.
When it came to picking grays, Rustoleum offered two colors: Aluminum and Gloss Smoke Gray. My gut instinct said to go lighter in color given option, so I bought Aluminum first, albeit not realizing that their product was literally shiny, silver aluminum finish.
And even though I only tested it on one section of the radiator, I still managed to get the aluminum finish all over my skin, and if you follow me on facebook (which you should), you probably saw that I looked like the tin (wo)man for a brief while post-sample testing.
I should also point out that ventilation’s obviously important. I realized the strength of the oil-based paint with this sample test alone: this is no nice, green low-VOC stuff. In fact, it seemed like 10x VOC toxicity as I was getting the job done; it was intentionally a summertime project because keeping all house windows and doors open was a must, and the warm temperatures coupled with a healthy lake breeze helped to keep the house comfortable and less fume-y. Although I probably did lose some brain cells, I think that’s inevitable. I’d like to think that people have lost many, many more brain cells and still do just fine.
The aluminum paint went back to the store (although just to quick shout-out for it’s best quality – it applied REALLY nicely and had amazing coverage). I exchanged it out for a can of my second choice, the darker Gloss Smoke Gray. I also took this opportunity to test out a little handy tip that I scrolled past once on Pinterest, that being to wrap a rubber band around the paint can to wipe your brush against (as opposed to wiping it along the edge of the can creating a gooky, sloppy mess). Worked well, gotta say, despite a few near paint ricocheting oopsies on my part.
I had to apply many coats of this, which made me overly conscious about some problems I read about radiator efficiency when too many coats of paint had been applied, but I guess we won’t know about that until wintertime. After just one rough coat along the outermost surface, it looked like this:
It’s hard to tell in those photos, but in addition to needing to go deep within the radiator coils with a smaller, fine brush (for I used both a 1″ foam brush and traditional artist’s paintbrush), I also needed to give the whole outer portion another coat to cover up brush strokes and inconsistencies with coverage. It’s taken about a week to get it to this point, because I’ve needed to allow it 24-48 hours between each of the (3) coats to fully dry given the recent humidity.
After making my way through three coats on the outside and two coats on the “inside” (if you want to call it that) it was starting to look A-OK. But you can see a few missed areas inside, which I spied down and tackled with the last coat of paint and a tiny paint brush.
After the final touch-ups were done and dried, it was looking pretty good. Much improved. The photos don’t do justice to the clean glossiness, which hopefully I will grow to love-love, not just like-love.
The presentation of the entryway is much improved now though, with no ivory-off white competing with the fresh trim and striped stairs. The gray really does blend in.
For $9 in paint (and I only used 1/4 of the quart) and a few hours of painting, it was an easy and affordable update.