🧱 THE CRAWL SPACE THAT’S GOING TO BREAK ME

Dec 23

There’s no romance down there.

No cinematic lighting. No triumphant music. But if you’re into dead wasps and mouse turds, then come on over — I’ve got something you’re gonna want to see. Who knows what else I’ll find down there, but I know what I won’t find: a straight board! I’m going down there with a headlamp and a bad dream. This floor has been cold since the seventies, back when disco blasted out of AM radios and every old‑timer on the block yelled “turn that crap down.” This whole abomination of an addition was slapped together over a month of Sundays and enough beer to fuel a full season of bad decisions and weekend‑warrior bravado. That’s how this lean‑to came into the world. Honestly, this thing should be put out of its misery and rebuilt from scratch. But that’s rich‑person talk. I’ll fix it — and I’ll suffer through its misery first-hand so nobody else has to.

Once the crawl space stops trying to kill me, the real work begins:

- shimming floors that haven’t been level since Trudeau Sr.

- insulating a crawl space that’s basically a wind tunnel

- sealing a foundation that’s been politely asking for help for fifty years

- building cabinetry that fits the house as it should have had all along