The pipes, the pipes

It was such a stinky day yesterday that today I consoled myself with gardening: Prying up weeds in what remains of the front flower beds, heeling in some rescued foundlings from the garden centre, and hoping they take root. My arms are sore from attempting to remove the old vinyl on the kitchen floor yesterday. A discouraging experience that had me wondering what the hell I've got myself into. The kitchen cupboards refused to be demolished under my feeble flailing, and there was a disturbing rim of dark dampness all along the edge of the plywood subfloor where it meets the walls. Where was the moisture coming from? I felt sick with thoughts of the possibilities. I could hear Mike Holmes in the back of my mind, saying "I've decided now to gut it." I told myself I would only lose my RRSP savings, and I never expected to retire anyway.

This grey morning our friend and neighbor John stopped by. He'd offered to take a look and see if he could offer some advice. What a great relief it was to see him work through my questions, room by room, outside and in the crawl space where I had been delaying the inevitable task of turning the water back on to see if any pipes had burst.

The upshot:
-No burst pipes.
-Moisture upstairs (most of it, anyway) probably due to the fact that there's standing water in the muddy crawl space, evaporating up through the vents and floor. The crawl space needs gravel and plastic sheeting over the dirt to seal out the moisture, and a vapour barrier and insulation between the floor joists.
- A sledgehammer would help with the cabinets, and a bit of strategic sawing. (I thought the sledgehammers on the decorating shows were just set-ups for the cameras.)
- Various other things that are too boring to tell but much less dire than I feared.

Thanks John.

Oh, and here's the house with windows. Still needs a back door. I'm working on it.