Originally written 15 January 2015
As soon as we moved into the new house, my wife and I agreed that renovating the bathrooms had to be a priority. This should come as no surprise, as one of them was showing significant wear and tears, and the other was being used as a storage room. During the last weekend of September 2014, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work.
Renovating old buildings can be a total journey into the unknown, and the demolition phase is often fraught with suspense. No, perhaps that’s a bit too dramatic—but often, tearing things down reveals that the job is bigger than it initially seemed. That proved to be the case this time. Behind the tiles by the bathtub, everything had turned black with mold.
This fine fungus is very useful in nature, essential, in fact. In human habitations, however, it is a major nuisance. Our first thought was to tear down all the wooden walls, but we soon realized that it might be overkill. Instead, we decided to remove the wall facing the bedroom hallway, the partition between the two bathrooms, and the inner cladding of the wall facing the entrance hall.
Once the inner cladding had been stripped from the walls, we tackled the water and drainage pipes. By that evening, I was feeling quite pleased with myself once the pipes were gone. The old plumbing had been solidly installed, and removing it was by no means effortless—it required nothing less than an angle grinder and a fair amount of racket.
The day after these exploits, my phone rang. The caller ID showed the name of the basement tenant. My blood ran cold; the tenant had never called me before. The only reason for the call, I figured, had to be to report a leak in the plumbing leading down to his apartment. A few years ago, I had been in a similar situation while renovating the bathroom and I’d had to resort to all sorts of maneuvers to loosen an old toilet. That evening, I’d finished installing the new one with flying colors. But the next morning, as the family sat at the breakfast table, there was a knock at the door. Standing outside was my distressed basement neighbor, and she had quite a story to tell. As it turned out, we had ‘delivered’ our morning business from the bathroom straight into her wardrobe. This time, however, nothing of this sort was happening. The neighbor was simply calling to let me know that he was getting a fiber-optic connection installed in his apartment.
The demolition continued. Once the partitions were down, I had to break through the walls and floor for the drainage and water pipes. Of course, it turned out to be a massive struggle, ending with me breaking right through the floor slab and into the apartment below. I was wrestling with this on a Sunday, just before dinner, when there was a violent pounding on the front door.
Standing outside was my neighbor, one of the town’s more ‘refined’ ladies. The look on her face told me she was not amused. She announced she’d had quite enough of my construction work. I told her I wasn’t surprised but pointed out that I had limited my working hours out of sheer consideration for the neighbors. Before I could advise her to look up the regulations and standards regarding construction noise in residential homes, she turned on her heel and sailed away like a frigate at full steam around the corner of the house. I stood there in the doorway, debating with myself whether I should give the jackhammer a real workout well into the evening. Then I remembered that I have other neighbors who deserve consideration.
The project has now reached the reconstruction phase. My spouse and I decided to install recessed LED lighting, which required changes to the electrical wiring in the ceiling. Holes were drilled into the ceiling panels here and there, heat boxes for the lights were installed, the iron conduits were removed, and new wiring was laid. After that, the cables were pulled through, and the ceiling was sealed with moisture-resistant gypsum boards. I am fortunate in this regard, as my brother-in-law is an electrician and provides expert advice whenever I get stuck with the electrical work. My father is also quite handy with electrics and was very diligent in helping with these renovations. Indeed, it is good to have people you can count on.
Next, work began on framing the partition walls. Naturally, that didn’t go without a hitch; while I was drilling into the stone wall next to the electrical panel, everything suddenly went black. I had knocked out all the power by drilling straight into the line heading out to the garage. Now, those cables will have to be pulled all over again. Eventually, though the partitions were up, the wiring inside them was finished, and everything was plastered from top to bottom.
Since the bathrooms are so small they would probably qualify as ‘sample-sized’ bathrooms, and the bedroom hallway is narrow, I decided to clad the walls with particle board instead of drywall to ensure a solid grip. Under normal circumstances, I would have used 12 mm particle board topped with a layer of drywall, but this time I let the particle board suffice. The ceiling, however, I finished with drywall.
Next, it was time for the plumbing. I was starting to think I’d have to do it myself, as tradespeople are clearly keeping very busy these days. In the end, I got Guðmundur the plumber to take on the job. I was relieved, as plumbing is one of those things I prefer to leave to a professional. Guðmundur proved to be meticulous and responsible in his work, deeply concerned with doing things the right way. In fact, he refused to install a toilet I had bought a long time ago, but I believe he did me a favor there, as that model is apparently a source of endless trouble. After all, who wants a toilet leak?
The plumber had to use the jackhammer a little bit to fit the pipes, but it wasn’t much. As soon as the sound of the jackhammer started, the ‘frigate’ from next door appeared. This time, she declared that we were the worst neighbors anyone could imagine. My patience was wearing thin, and I told her I had no intention of speaking with her in that tone. I advised her to look into the noise regulations for home renovations and told her not to come back unless she could prove we were overstepping the limits. She hasn’t been seen since. The fact is, I know these regulations very well and knew that we were well within all limits. In truth, we could have gone much further. Of course, I admit that renovation noise is tiring for neighbors, but there is simply no way to carry out this kind of work silently. I asked the neighbors on my other side if I was driving them crazy, and their answer was not at all—they said they could still sleep soundly. People’s tolerance levels are just different. It was toughest, however, for our tenants in the basement, but they received red wine and cheese at New Year’s as a token of our gratitude for their patience.
Preparing for tiling and installing the fixtures was the next task. First, I had to fill the holes in the floor slab with concrete, and then I used self-leveling compound for the final few millimeters. I thought the concrete would be tight enough, but that wasn’t the case—a bit of the leveling compound leaked through and down into the basement apartment. Understandably, the tenant was not particularly happy with me at that point.
At the same time, the company Litli klettur did some core drilling through the floor slab for me, and after that, I had Blikksmiðjan Vík set up the ventilation system. I handled the tiling myself, but I’m fortunate enough to have a brother-in-law who is a master at tiling, and he gave me great advice on how to go about the job. All the tiling materials were bought at Álfaborg on the day before the Christmas Eve eve (December 23rd), and then I worked like a demon on the tiling throughout the Christmas holidays.
The cabinetry was handled by the woodworking shop Við og við, who have worked for us several times before. The great thing about working with them is that instead of buying ready-made units, everything is custom-made to measure. If a 43 cm cabinet fits best, then a 43 cm cabinet is what they build. Guðmundur at Við og við is also very clever at seeing what works best. For the small bathroom, however, we just took a quick trip to IKEA and Bauhaus and found something that fits well enough. The final stretch of our bathroom struggle was installing the shower faucets and the stall, the towel radiator, and the bathroom doors.
I must admit that although it’s fun to be involved in this kind of renovation work, you are quite relieved when it finally comes to an end. Now, our trips to the local swimming pools will become less frequent; since mid-September, we’ve had to rely on them entirely as we had no bathing facilities of our own.
