Happy April Fool's Day

(Otherwise known as the post wherein I applaud myself for my presumed intellect.)

Among all the other gags online, my last post was my little April Fool's gift to you. There is no TV film crew coming to my townhouse. There is no TV pilot in the works. And, frankly, I'm not suited to TV projects if I have to be in *front* of the camera.

But every hoax needs a kernel of truth. It *is* true I was talking to HGTV representatives during my home search. They were coming to Raleigh to film "House Hunters," but my timing didn't work out for their schedule. That, and my aforementioned lack of front-of-camera skills, probably ended any chance of actually getting on national TV.

My last post did fool some people completely and caused others to further question me. If *you* didn't get hoodwinked, here's what you might have noticed:

• The blog was posted on April 1. I'd almost *never* trust anything published with an April 1 date.
• I wrote the post as an acrostic poem, with the first letter of every sentence spelling out APRIL FOOLS.
• I linked to a Wikipedia article about acrostic poems, my only link in the post.
• The blog post's sole tag was "Holidays."

And some very obtuse references I doubt anyone saw:

• The blog title "A display floor" anagrams to APRIL FOOLS.
• I set the blog to activate the last post at 04:01.
• I explicitly used the words "initials" and "be sharp" in the post.

Thanks, as always, for reading this blog.

My home ... a display floor?

A big cable TV channel wants to film my place after seeing my blog!
Per a legal clause, I can't say *which* channel yet, but a hint: Initials.
Regardless, I'm stoked that they'll come film here for a potential pilot.
I figured this blog would have limited reach, so this is quite a shock.
Largely, I intended this blog to just document my domestic progress.

For now, having a film crew here for days means I have lots to do.
Overnight, I must clean everything -- and hide all of my skeletons.
Old possessions need to go, replaced by the stuff I bought recently.
Looking sloppy isn't going to cut it on national TV -- I must be sharp.
Share in the process with me as this develops, or comment below.
 

Poking holes in my resale value

The title to this post is a little dramatic, yes, but me and the drywall mud will be spending some quality time together when I move out.

For Christmas, I got some nifty acrylic display cases for my Hess Truck collection. (You might remember me mentioning them here and here.)

Well, they're up on the wall now, see? But not without a fight.

Hiding behind the nicely mirrored backing are a bunch of holes with drywall molly* bolts in them. Why? Both display cases were mounted to the wall twice, and it's not even (entirely) my fault.

My father helped me hang the cases, which are more bulky than heavy. Before you think I'm blaming his skills, know that he builds multiple theatrical stage sets a year. He's not unhandy.

Before drilling into my walls, we measured. We did math. We used a level. While mounting the cases, we used the level again. But, somehow, both cases ended up being crooked -- and to add insult, neither case lined up with its mate.

It was so bad we decided to take both cases down and start from scratch ... after we ran to the store, as we had consumed all of the supplied hardware.

The cases still aren't perfectly aligned, but they're MUCH better now. (And for other collectors out there, yes, I still have the boxes.)

* Drywall molly bolts, for folks who want to know, are plastic spreaders that act as anchors, allowing heavy objects to hang from drywall without screwing/bolting directly into a stud. They become permanent fixtures to the wall, unless they are dug out and patched up. 

Surprise! No mishaps.

I promised some grill-related exploits a couple posts ago. Now that the weather's getting nicer and the days are getting longer, I've used my new grill a few times.

I haven't had any mishaps. Not one.

OK, I forgot to close the valve on the propane tank overnight. Once. But that's it, I swear.

In other grill-related news, I decided to pull my grill and patio furniture indoors during the recent tornado watches. It all fits indoors, which is good to know for when I'm ready to stain and seal my deck.

The hard way

A quick note to readers of this blog: Please learn from my mistakes.

When adding this rug and this sofa to a room, it would be wise to place the rug *first,* then bring the sofa into the room. A college-educated adult shouldn't mess this up, but then there's me.

On a related note, make sure the furniture you buy fits into your HOME, not just its intended room. This 9x12' rug and massive sofa had to scale a flight of stairs only 35 inches wide *and* turn a corner.

Before bringing it in, I did measure the sofa -- a sectional -- to make sure it fit. Its smallest dimension is 38 inches, but the overstuffed padding squished down just enough. My movers still were NOT amused.

Make me feel better; share your brief moments of stupidity in the comments section.

Dirty window sills

Raleigh has been given the gift of phenomenal weather this week. To celebrate, I've opened all the windows in my place to air out any winter funk.

The window sills on my west-facing windows are INCREDIBLY dirty. It's not one constant layer of unmolested dirt. It's as if water got in, then evaporated, leaving only grime behind; I think I see water spots in the dirt. This, clearly, will require a good sponge and some continued observation.

In other news, this weather means it might be time for the first cookout of 2010. Stay tuned for grill-related escapades and a general disregard of basic fire safety.

Little sensor, big help

Problem: My TV sits above my fireplace. In addition to the TV, I have four other components to my entertainment system and some assorted speakers. I don't like to see wires, and I'm too cheap to pay an expert to wire the necessary cords through my walls. (I know, I know. ... If only all our problems were this trivial.)

Solution: Stack the components BEHIND the TV.

New problem: The components' remote controls signals aren't powerful enough to go *through* the TV, which means my lazy butt would have to get up and press the buttons on my now-hidden components. (And you thought my previous problem was trivial, huh?)

New solution: I found this transmitter and receiver at Best Buy. Point any and all remote controls at the transmitter and let RF waves do their magic. If it lived up to its packaging claims, the transmitter/receiver combination also could operate my remote controls through walls, floors, multiple rooms, and even politicians' thick skulls.

The packaging claims are greatly exaggerated. True, the devices often work when both the receiver and transmitter are in the same room -- but not always. Luckily, a Best Buy reviewer named mdjiron (who coincidentally also lives in Raleigh) came up with an engineering fix that other reviewers say works great. 

I have yet to try the hack, but if I don't electrocute myself, I'll report back with results. For now, I am just happy to keep my butt planted on my VERY comfortable sofa, channel surfing like a king.

Aw...sheets

I have a queen bed, fairly plush, but by no means ridiculously oversized. I needed a set of sheets for said bed.

I went to Wal-Mart to buy their best sheets, figuring the best sheets from a discount store average out pretty well. I found a color and style I liked, and made sure the queen set hadn't been opened.

You probably know what's coming next... When I got home, I attempted to make the bed with my new sheets. There was no amount of stretching that would have gotten that fitted sheet onto my mattress.

[more after the break -- click below]

Resurrecting a fish tank, part 1

My 29-gallon fish tank has been dormant for four months. It went uncleaned for a couple months before that. My lack of aquatic attention can be blamed on the amount of time needed to search for and move to a new place.

I'm not proud of it, but the caked-on scum in my fish tank developed into a rainbow of colors. There was green scum. There was purple scum. There was black scum. And I kid you not, there was scum that changed colors like the corner of a $20-dollar bill.

Clearly, there are only a few industrial products I could use to remove that scum, none of which would be safe for any future fish residents, which require a narrow range of pH levels and water chemicals to survive.

Or I could take the fish tank to a (manual) car wash and blast it with the high-pressure rinse cycle. Guess which option I chose?

It actually was fun to clean the fish tank at the car wash (obvious note: remove any live fish from the the tank before attempting this), though I got many strange looks from other car wash patrons.

Using the soap setting on the water gun (not the separate soap wand) helped loosen the entrenched scum. And the high-pressure rinse cycle did, in fact, clean everything out, though it sprayed soap bubbles everywhere.

After drying the fish tank off. I brought it home and filled it with some new gravel and decorations. Now I just need fish.

[freshly cleaned tank, with its light off and its light on]

 

 

I can see you

OK, so the title is a bit creepy. But that's kind of the point: My front door now has a peephole.

The architects of my townhouse for some inexplicable reason did not include any side glass or windows near the front door. So I had no idea whether the person ringing my doorbell is a neighborhood girl scout selling cookies or a Uzi-toting madman hell-bent on world destruction. (Yes, I watch a lot of REALLY bad movies.)

I had the idea to install a peephole/viewfinder after I evaluated my new home's security. About a month after I had the idea, a local company sent me an advertisement, telling me they'd install a peephole for what seemed like a lot of money.

I was right, it WAS a lot of money. My local hardware store sold me a peephole for about $10-12 dollars. (Amazon sells them, too.) I already had the drill and half-inch drill bit.

Don't want to drill a hole yourself? Find a Triangle-based security company with this Google search.

Some tips:
Splurge on the peephole: I got the peephole with the largest viewing angle available. I almost can see more through the peephole than I can with the door open. It cost about $2 more than a limited-scope peephole.
Make sure you know your door: If your door used to be a bank vault, you're probably going to need some heavy-duty equipment, or at least some extra drill bits.
Install the peephole at a comfortable height: I'm kind of a tall dude, so the peephole went in a few inches below eye level so others don't have to stand on their toes. If you have children around, consider installing a second, lower peephole.

More good tips and peephole alternatives can be found here. It's alarmist, but useful.

And now, I'm safe(r) from Uzi-toting madmen.

Being sick saps productivity

I haven't forgotten about this fledgling blog. I've been battling a nasty cold for the past week, and that really reduces my ability to get stuff done around the house.

But I have much to do during the next 10 days, so expect some real updates soon. Stay well out there.

Swimming in my money like Scrooge McDuck

In case you haven't looked directly to your right, or slightly up and to the right, I recently became a first-time homeowner. That means I qualified for the original first-time homeowner federal government tax credit* (not to be confused with the original first-time homeowner perk of a no-interest loan.)

*If you're thinking about buying your first home, and you have the money to do so, get it done QUICKLY. The current tax credit opportunity expires at the end of April.

I don't understand *why* the feds allowed this, but I was able to amend my 2008 return to claim the tax credit, rather than waiting to claim the tax credit on my 2009 taxes, when I actually bought my townhouse. Thus, when I checked my mailbox this week, a lovely four-figure check from the U.S. government had arrived.

I actually did a happy dance when I saw the check (luckily, nobody saw me, so there isn't any video).

Before any of my wonderful blog readers hit me up for free drinks or financial favors, know that I've already deposited the money in my bank account. After all, I do have a down payment to defray.

What would you do with the money? Spend it? Save it? Cash it in for quarters and swim in it like Scrooge McDuck?

Trash vs. recycling

During the last few weeks, I'm proud to say there's been more stuff at the curb in my recycling bin than in my trash can. I'm down to about one kitchen trash bag per week.

The difference came after I reread the City of Raleigh's recycling rules, which reminded me all the junk mail I accumulate can be recycled. In fact, I have another foot-high stack of newspaper, junk mail and old envelopes ready to go out this week, plus some cardboard boxes I should have ditched weeks ago.

Two caveats: I *do* create a lot of trash. But I eat most of my meals at/near work, so most of my trash doesn't come home with me. Also, recycling isn't necessarily the most "green" solution, but at least all of my waste isn't going to the landfill.

Plastic cut

You've gotten a paper cut before, right? Last night, I got a paper cut from PLASTIC.

One of my Christmas gifts was acrylic display cases for some old Hess trucks I have. With the mirrored back piece and clear sides, these cases will really show off the collection nicely.

But as I removed the packing supplies, I sliced my knuckle on a fairly sharp corner. No worries -- I waited for the bleeding to stop and resumed unpacking the cases. The problem came today as I got dressed. Doing that reopened the wound, getting blood everywhere. (Oh, sorry ... hope you're not squeamish)

Here's the upside: I originally intended to mount the cases in a high-traffic hallway. I know now that location won't work: Either I or a houseguest (OK, just me) will invariably make contact with the case. And cleaning blood up just isn't fun. So the display cases will be relocated to another prominent location.

Time for a man cave

You might just argue that a guy with his own place can make his entire home his man cave.* I might just agree with that argument. Nonetheless, I bought a townhouse with this specific floorplan solely to convert my ground-floor bedroom into a man cave. The theme? Card room/game room.

And it's almost time to get started.

The room is being used as storage while I unpack and set up the rest of my house. While I'm still knee-deep in clutter, feel free to share some ideas with me:

Guys, what stuff do you miss most from your bachelor pads?
Ladies, which of his items would NEVER make it into your home?

Let me know, below.

Once I get rolling, check back here often, as there WILL be mishaps as I make my man cave.

(*What's a man cave? See some video examples here. And see some photos here, with a little overlap.)

Here, hold my umbrella

Late last fall, Walmart, Target and other stores put their patio furniture on clearance. I happily obliged, buying some chaise lounges and a big patio umbrella at insanely cheap prices. (Related: This summer's going to be AWESOME!) But my store had sold their entire stock of umbrella stands, which made purchasing an umbrella pointless.

Problem: Quality umbrella stands cost between $25-100. Yes, $100!
(And, yes, I checked prices online.)
Solution: Make my own umbrella stand for less than $20.

I was going to do the whole paint-bucket-and-concrete trick, until a helpful sales associate at Home Depot suggested I use a flowerpot when I couldn't find a neutral-colored (empty) paint bucket.

It turned out to be a great idea, especially after I found a length of PVC pipe that fit snugly in the flowerpot's drain hole. I then used about a third of a bag of sand to weigh the flowerpot down and keep the PVC pipe from shifting. I'm proud of the end result:

The umbrella stand is light enough to bring indoors, which I do during the winter to keep any water that has collected from freezing. (At some point, I'll paint the PVC to better match the flowerpot.)

Total cost, minus paint, was about $18, and I still have sand left over for some future project (or icy walkways).

Mind the gap (kitchen edition)

My (former) apartment had short kitchen cabinets. It wasn't ideal for storing stuff *in* the cabinets, but there was lots of space *above* them, which I used as a makeshift bar and beer-stein display.

My new townhouse has tall kitchen cabinets, which I like better, because all my stuff is stashed like carryon luggage on a crowded flight. But there's a small space (about 12 inches) between the top of the cabinets and my ceiling. It's not large enough to put anything useful up there and it's too high up to use as storage for anything I'd actually need.

The gap never really bothered me, until I saw what my girlfriend did with her above-cabinet area. After I mentioned how it made her kitchen a little more classy, for Christmas, she was nice enough to get me these similar supplies for my cabinet tops.

[pics and more after the break]

My collection of hand soap

If you ever visit my place, be sure to notice my extraordinarily robust collection of hand soap scattered throughout my townhouse.

To attain my extraordinarily robust collection of hand soap, I have travelled to many places. To many hotels, actually.

While there, I steal their soap. Then I use my thumbnail to scratch out any hotel logos etched into the soap.

Now I'm *certain* you're impressed with my extraordinarily robust collection of hand soap.