Stripping the Wallpaper

When Scott and I moved into the first house we bought, the dining room was wallpapered with a ghastly dotted pattern: blue dots on ivory above the chair rail and ivory dots on blue below.

We had grand plans for the house, so we rented a wallpaper steamer and a doo-hicky that looked like a bunch of serrated pizza cutters put together to pierce the wallpaper so that the steam could get underneath the paper and relax the glue.

We plunged gamely into the task. I rolled the poky thingy and he steamed. When my arms got tired we switched.

Then we started peeling.

But the paper didn’t come off in sheets. It didn’t even come off in strips. It came off in bits and pieces the size of postage stamps.

We picked. And picked. And picked. For days, for weeks, for months before we got the first layer of wallpaper off the wall.

In spots, though, there were several layers. The house was 110 years old, after all, and had been wallpapered several times over.

Some of the under-layers were real paper, so the picking became shredding. Dainty Victorian roses shredded off the walls. Scraps got lodged under our fingernails. We scarred the wall with our trowels.

The renovation seemed to last an eternity.

Finally we got down to the cool plaster. But the surfaces of the walls were so pitted, so pockmarked from our ministrations that we couldn’t paint them directly.

No, in order to paint them, we needed to apply a neutral base — unpainted flat paintable wallpaper. Once completed, the walls were in pristine shape; the base paper performed superbly.

These days life has been picking and peeling away my coverings, exposing me to harsh daylight, changing my circumstances through painful effort. Just when I think I haven’t got another layer to lose, I find that I do and the pulling and ripping starts all over again.

I don’t have a base paper, don’t have a way to cover the imperfections, to start healing. I am worn raw from the constant picking, the incessant rubbing and chafing.

I am a plaster wall. My surface is forever etched, forever marred. I am naked.

And I’ve got to hold up my house.

I’m linking this post to Yeah Write. Please visit the site to read some of the best writing on the web.

32 Comments

Louise Ducote February 19, 2013

I love this portrait of a young married couple taking on a home project that seems easy but then jumps up and bites. Think of all the things those walls must have seen over 110 years! You’ll be okay, Courtenay, because you’ll keep the telling the stories of whatever it is.
Louise Ducote recently posted..I’ve Been Looking for You

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Natalie the Singingfool February 19, 2013

Beautiful analogy! I had to steam off decades of wallpaper once, so it rings especially true for me.
I’m sorry you have to go through a “stripping” process. I can’t think of anything worse.
Natalie the Singingfool recently posted..A Dancing Fish

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Renee Schuls-Jacobson February 19, 2013

I know that feeling of having to hold up the house. I feel the exhaustion in it all. I remember the Paper Dragon (pokey paper thing). Dipping my hand in Diff and swirling around the water, Peeling and peeling and washing. We called it the de-scumification part of moving. But it was so tiring. Who knew that would be nothing compared to what was to come later.

This is a masterfully crafted piece.

I’m here from Yeah Write.

And it’s my first time.

Nice to meet you!
Renee Schuls-Jacobson recently posted..Rules of the Road

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Vernetta February 19, 2013

I love your writing, and I love you.

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My Half Assed Life February 19, 2013

Your comparison between stripping off layers of wall paper and peeling away your own layers really captures the way I feel about my twenties. That decade more than any other formed me into an adult. A sometimes flawed adult, but I know my base layer now.
My Half Assed Life recently posted..Real Friends Don’t Play The One-Up Game

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Erica M February 19, 2013

Nice snapshot, Courtenay. I dare say one day of getting your toenails painted would be very similar to your metaphorical base paper than you’d imagine.
Erica M recently posted..discounted

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Marcy February 19, 2013

I was drawn in to your analogy right away. I have stripped wallpaper before and, yes, there were what seemed like never-ending layers underneath.
Marcy recently posted..Driving Lessons

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Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom February 19, 2013

You are just such a brilliant writer. I mean, I was drawn into the description of the wallpaper demo and you know, you’d think that would be about as interesting as watching paint dry. But no, you had me. I found myself saying “No! No! Oh, no!” aloud with each layer and then? Then you turned it into a beautiful analogy of life and it’s harsh effects. Gorgeous writing.
Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom recently posted..Que Sera Sera

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Samantha Brinn Merel February 19, 2013

This is a gorgeous metaphor, and the writing is exquisite. Even though they can be frustrating, there is something so special about old houses and all of their secrets.
Samantha Brinn Merel recently posted..Running at Dawn

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Robbie February 19, 2013

Such fabulous imagery. I know the feeling of trying to hold your house up. Sending you strength.
Robbie recently posted..Something More

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icescreammama February 19, 2013

you need a neutral base pronto!!!
lovely post

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Jared Karol February 19, 2013

Oh, the joys of home ownership! It *is* a perfect metaphor for life, and you conveyed that well. Picking away the old to build back up the new that will one day be the old. . . very cyclical. . .
Jared Karol recently posted..Put the Computer Down and Walk Away Slowly

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Kathleen February 20, 2013

This is some beautiful writing, Courtenay. A perfectly executed metaphor.

On a more personal level, I feel for you and the struggle you are experiencing. Hoping there is peace and happiness on the other side of it.
Kathleen recently posted..The Ride

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Mary @ A Teachable Mom February 20, 2013

Deftly executed, Courtenay. Your writing moves me. Thank you. And Godspeed on the stripping. In my experience, it takes a brave soul to open herself up to the level of stripping you’re describing. And only good comes from it (or at least that what I tell myself!). Hugs to you.
Mary @ A Teachable Mom recently posted..Do You Pursue Friendships with the Opposite Sex?

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Jester Queen February 20, 2013

Two funny stories, one my own, and one my Mom’s.

Mine is similar to yours, though the house was much younger. The wallpaper peeled away in messy globs and it was slow going in those bathrooms.

My Mom’s is even closer to your experience, though with less equipment. She was a hippie. She and Dad happened upon a house for rent and moved in with not so much as a goodwill plate between them. She walked into the middle room, which had once been a kitchen, but was now ostensibly a dining area. (There were only three rooms downstairs; five if you counted the bathroom and laundry area/pantry. Two more upstairs were unheated and only sort of counted.) She was confronted with red wallpaper adorned with gold busts of Caesar. The house had a cistern, rather than a well, and the water was not, in fact, actually working at that time. So she went out back and scooped muddy water from a puddle into an old whiskey bottle and used it to scrape the paper off the walls with her fingernails. Underneath, the walls were horsehair plaster. I grew up in that room, where the walls were never flat and the plaster always peeled.
Jester Queen recently posted..Of speaking and silence

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Stacie @ Snaps and Bits February 20, 2013

That sounds like such a nightmare! But didn’t you wonder about all of the layers, who put them in, how each pattern was chosen, what they’re lives were like. Such rich history and beautiful details. As for you, you won’t crumble!
Stacie @ Snaps and Bits recently posted..Rescue Me

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Chrystal February 20, 2013

I love your analogy.

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Christie February 20, 2013

I love you for using the word doo hicky. And for writing so beautifully.

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Ken February 20, 2013

It’s always the projects that require the most work, that hold the most meaning when they finally get finished. Whether it’s walls or fixing who we are.

I liked the way you wove this story.
Ken recently posted..#144. or, The Dog, The Door, and The Dummy

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kirsten oliphant February 20, 2013

Oh, the wallpaper. I wrote an open letter to the hangers of wallpaper some time back on my blog after doing just that with a few rooms in our house. Not as hard, as most came off well–but then there was all this under stuff that also had to come of that did peel in tiny strips. It’s the worst. Except when compared to the wallpaper of you. Great comparison, and also, sorry.
kirsten oliphant recently posted..Just Beet It

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Carrie February 21, 2013

Stripping wallpaper does not sound like fun! It sure sounds like a lot of work but in the end it turned out alright, maybe not perfect, but what is. I think the same will happen in your life. Hang in there, and keep stripping away.

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Ericamos February 21, 2013

I love your comparison. **Hugs!**
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Jen February 21, 2013

Wallpaper is one of the few truly evil things in this world. I hope you find a way to spackle up your dents and push onwards.
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RFL February 21, 2013

Beautiful analogy.
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Michelle Longo February 21, 2013

This piece is perfect. I don’t know what else I could say about it.
Michelle Longo recently posted..I Am Now A Believer.

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Esther February 21, 2013

Excellent ending!!
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Lady goo goo gaga February 21, 2013

Beautiful imagery!!!
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Eric Sipple (@saalon) February 21, 2013

Damn, is the writing on this piece gorgeous; so much so, that I floated right the heck into the end, and caught me completely off guard. This is wonderful. Really, truly wonderful.
Eric Sipple (@saalon) recently posted..The Consequences of Not Being a Wallflower

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Kristin February 22, 2013

Oh, wallpaper. What a fitting metaphor. I liked how you used it here though I am sorry you feel picked raw. Perhaps the times will turn and you will begin to put layers of paper back on…beautiful, soothing, paper full of happy.
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Erin O February 22, 2013

A lovely, deftly made metaphor. We’re all trying to hold up a few walls in spite of our weak spots, but I loved the way you said it.

The previous owners of our house took care of this chore before us, but there is still evidence of the old wallpaper in the closets. I am grateful to them every day for stripping, texturing and repainting what they did.
Erin O recently posted..The girl next door

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Laura March 25, 2013

I am the same stripped wall as you in this story. How to write about these last several months has eluded me. Thank you for connecting the dots for me.
Laura recently posted..A Little Winter Magic

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- IASoupMama March 27, 2013
  
  Thank you. I’m sorry that you see yourself in this, because I’d rather no one did. Too much struggle…
  
  Reply

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