A Hole in My Wall is a Hole in My Heart

When my dad took out the intercom I was thisclose to tossing him out the window. Mom and I had just spent the last two days priming and painting walls and ceiling of the smallest bedroom (it’s really more of an office-size room) and I had specifically told him that I did not want the intercom removed.  At this point I just wanted one single room to be finished, the intercom could wait.

Unfortunately, I inherited my thrill-seeking nature from my father, and nothing gives us more adrenaline than a new project. This would be fantastic if we ever agreed on what project we would tackle, and in this case his project won out since he went ahead without me.

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Just looking at this photo makes me cry a little on the inside. As a renter, a hole in a wall was a, “walls are meant for hanging things on” – as a homeowner though, every time something so much as touches my walls I feel pain and panic deep in my soul.  This photo is from March, it is now May and I still have not hung a discretionary item on the walls. I will need a lot of wine the day we start hanging our artwork…

Ok, back to the story:

This new project thing I share with my dad is not something a spouse or friend should take lightly. You give us a project we’ll spend all allotted time on research; what materials to use, do I need a new book, do I need a new tool, can I do this myself or will I need help? The more things we need from Home Depot or Michaels the more excited we’ll be about it. For this hole-in-my-wall/heart project, there were plenty of materials needed. Thank God too, or else dad would have immediately lost interest in fixing the hole.

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The fixing of the hole with plaster included creating a backing using a piece of drywall cut to fit inside the hole. Dad and Kyle then spackled and plastered to seal it in. It needed multiple coats with a day of drying in-between – which was agony, waiting to see if it was actually going to work. Thankfully, once it was done we just had to sand it to blend with the rest of the wall and be ready for painting.

Look how happy Dad is in this next photo, it was not staged – he was just this excited.

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Now that it’s over, I’m happy we went forward with removing the intercom. But if I could go back in time I still would be trying to stop Dad from ever removing it in the first place.

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