And on the 8th day, we got Robbie LeCompt. What a lifesaver. Our contractor, now that we are legit, told us we might get along and that maybe we could get in touch. Well, you listen to me right now, if you want to test whether or not you get along with somebody, you work on a tin ceiling together. It is frightfully tedious, and gross, and frustrating, and dirty and precise, and probably fairly toxic. We spent the first few days with our new employee moving out all the legacy crap that we had in the way of progress. Our storage hero Randy Windle stepped up and offered us some extra space he had. That was great, I had called the curbside storage unit places about ten times to price it, and it just wasn’t acceptable. This alternative, for futures in pizza, was just right.
After we cleared the space, we had to test out all the tin, that involves poking it with an ice pick to see what is salvageable and what needs to come down. Taking down the tin tiles (which are actually steel by the way) involves pulling tiny nails, about 18 per square, if they were put in correctly, and those guys back in 1925, they did things correctly. (you can help yourself to the math on the amount of nails required to put them back up) Then there was wood to repair (if you have paid attention, you will realize this is the hole in the ceiling that had a tarp the size of an elephant diaper channeling the water into a 5 gallon bucket when we bought the building), and a few ceiling rafters, and just general awesomeness. Like when you dislodge a tile and take a face full of raccoon shit and leaves. That is awesome. Which is why I wear the most expensive respirator money can buy. We bought Robbie a respirator on his first day of work. These are absolutely mandatory on this worksite. Yick!!!
After we replaced all the compromised tiles, we cleaned off the tiles with lots of pressure and particulates which forced the paint off. Then it was a race to paint, because rain was in the forecast, and with an increase in humidity comes rust on unprotected steel. If it rusts, you have to clean it again.
And that is a wrap! That is all you have to do to have your own tin ceiling! It practically hangs itself. I have no idea why such an efficient simple process isn’t practiced today.
Enjoy these photos.
- This was the room when we started.
- Scaffolding Ballet
- Are we there yet?
- This is where the two rear bathrooms once stood.
- Action Jackson beating the wall. Zac can just pretend this is an SBA Loan Officer asking swarmy questions, and he gets all the energy he needs.
- I’m so sorry for your loss.
- The beam, holding up the rear.
- The stash of tin for the repairs.
- All you need is a tack hammer and tin snips. And an insane amount of patience, ritolin, or meth.
- We literally bought every box of nails like this in Hot Springs.
- Here is the ceiling, pieced back together. Like the wildest puzzle I have ever done.
- Even at this point, the neatness and lack of ceiling holes was overwhelming.
- All the mismatched tin. If it didn’t rain paint in there, I might have been tempted to leave it. But we can’t serve paint pizza.
- So to clean the tin, with sustained amounts of pressure and particulates, you rent one of these bad boys.
- And you protect the master.
- Here is the tin, starting to get a good cleaning.
- Here it is, totally naked.
- Painting! Hallelujah!
- The shiny silver, making its way to the front.
- All shiny!
- This is over the future rear bar area.
- The future bar area.
- The dining room.
- What happens when you mess with aluminum paint all day. Just another day at the office!