What a relief it was to get that last window into place. The next step was to sheetrock the interior walls and ceiling. I had a little experience with sheetrock from building the studio bathroom. There are a couple of things to keep in mind with sheetrocking a wall. You have to measure precisely where the cutouts are for the junction boxes for the light sockets and wall sockets. If the cutout lands in the middle of a sheet, you use a drill and a keyhole saw to make the interior cutout. If you do it right it's a real thrill to put up the sheet and have it fit snugly over the box. If it's off a little, an oversize cover plate might cover your sins. Otherwise, start over again and be more careful about your measuring. This is another place where having everything square makes the job so much easier. The other thing about putting up sheetrock is the screwing process. They make special sheetrock screws that are about an inch long. You want to make sure that when you screw, the head of the screw just breaks the paper and snugs in below level of the sheetrock. That way when you spackle all the screw holes, nothing sticks up and you get a nice monolithic surface.
After a few fits and starts I got the hang of it and the drill went like this. I would measure the next section to be rocked, I would use my utility box cutter to score one side. I would break the sheet along the scored line; turn the sheet over; score the back and take the cut piece and hand it to Timmy. He holds it up against the stud wall while I screw it into place. I must mention that my brother, at this period in his life, did not use power tools. This consigned him to the exalted position of "special day laborer". He, of course, was invaluable because there are many jobs that need two bodies. He was also very useful in cleaning up at the end of each day so that when we started work the next morning everything was swept clean and all prior day's construction debris and had been bagged. The reason I say "special day laborer" was not only because English was his first language---hell, he'd majored in English at Williams College; his English was impeccable!---but also because I could bounce ideas off him and he always gave me great moral support. Once his initial skepticism had disappeared, he got really excited about the project. More than once I would hear him talking softly to himself, "We're building a house!" Yes Timmy, we are.
Actually, much of the wall sheetrocking could be done by me alone. One time I came in to do some sheetrocking while Timmy was toiling in the soil down in the garden. I went up to a pile of sheetrock that was leaning against the wall. I heard a faint chirping coming from behind the sheetrock. When I went to see what was up, I found a little bird had gotten himself (herself, whatever...) trapped behind the stack of sheetrock. I was able to, carefully, catch the bird. I softly cupped him in my hands and walked out to the landing overlooking the garden. "Timmy!", I bellowed, "Joe-Bob sez check it out!" My brother looked up from his hoeing. I raised my arms over my head and opened my cupped hands and low, the little birdy flew away to freedom. Timmy gave me a rousing ovation. I took that as a good omen.
Installing the six foot sliding glass doors. Nice view of the garden. Notice one of our horses walking the garden fence, looking for an opening.
Studio tenant, Nancy, checking out my handiwork.
Indeed things continued to go pretty smoothly. We had been going at it for some weeks now and my construction chops were in pretty good shape. I wired the building with the help of "The Golden Book of Electrical Wiring" or some such. I learned all about pig-tailing and the use of junction boxes. I wired up light sockets and power sockets and switches. I installed overhead lights that looked like albino mushrooms; perhaps another decorating faux pas. I also installed dimmer switches to provide various stages of lighting ambience. Later, after hearing comments from lady friends, I realized my lighting scheme was more suitable for a high school hallway or perhaps a correctional facility. "Mike" one friend chided me, "today, especially here in Southern Marin, people use lamps to provide lighting. Unless you're going with recessed lighting, overhead lights like yours are not only fairly useless but kind of an insult to a living space; unless you're looking for something small that you lost and you need a huge bath of light to help find it. Don't worry, the new tenants will probably just ignore the lights and use their own. They'll hardly be noticeable unless they look up..."
The installation of the plumbing also went well. I put in the toilet, the sink and the shower stall. I went with a large vanity with a nice counter top and drawers on both sides. I also splurged and got a large vanity mirror with multiple light sockets for the ladies. I also installed a large medicine cabinet and a cupboard to use as a linen closet. The one part of the plumbing I farmed out was the instillation of the hot water pipes. Cold water can be done with plastic PVC pipe which is easy to work with. Hot water must be done with copper pipes and the joints must be soldered. Proper soldering of copper pipe joints is somewhat of an art with which I had zero experience. I found a plumber, (a real plumber) who came in to do the copper pipes. I asked him about what he thought about the rest of the plumbing. He looked around and made a few suggestions about strapping pipes and the like. His final opinion was that he thought my plumbing job should hold up for a couple of years...
The landing leading to front/kitchen door. Open, airy and light on the inside. That's the fridge you see through the open door.
Part of the deck; all done in redwood. Later we had a full grown bob-cat visit the deck while he was stalking our deer.
The next big step was to install a string of outside lights to illuminate the walkway from the road down to the cottage landing. This electric line had to be a double pole jobby with a switch at the top and a switch at the bottom. Tenant comes home from a hard day's labor and it's dark. He turns on the switch at the top, all the outdoor spots kick in, he sashays down the series of landings which lead to the cottage and turns off the lights from the cottage. At the time, this series of landing were "steps" that were packed earth topped with shredded redwood bark held in place by a retainer board held in place with small rebar stakes, pounded into the ground. Real concrete steps, along with other major changes, would come much later, after I had to finally comply with the county building and zoning regulations. But that's another story...
Figuring out how to wire a two-pole switch with a four wire electric line took all my mental acuity. I puzzled over the diagram and descriptions in my "Golden Book of Electrical Wiring". "There's three hot wires and a ground wire." I mused to myself, "One is neutral and the red one and the green one are "hot". Now what?" I finally figured it out and now we had outdoor lights. This was important. There were about forty steps that had to be navigated from our street to the cottage. The tenant couldn't park down below because that was the horse pasture. It was tricky enough for me to get through the gate to the horse pasture in my truck by myself. I had to unlock the gate, bump the gate backward with my truck, drive through far enough so the gate could swing back into place before one of the horses got out. I would get out of the truck, push the horses out of the way and lock the gate again. This could be a tricky operation as the horses often hung around the upper gate. It was just down a bit from our street and often the local mothers would wheel their precious cargos down to the gate in their "Aprica Strollers" to show the kiddies the nice horseys and perhaps feed them an apple or some carrots.
I had put out a sign instructing visitors that it was OK to feed the horses: Stay out of the pasture and feed them over the gate. Keep your hand flat when you give them something so they don't bite your fingers. They will try anyway but as long as your hand is flat they'll just end up gnawing on your palm, which is not an unpleasurable experience. They'll eat pretty much anything from the produce aisles including tomatoes. Please don't feed them sugar. Just like humans, it's bad for their teeth.
Given the fact that Happy Acres, being an undeveloped homestead, built in the thirties which held, in succession: dairy cows, ducks, pigs, horses, a bull and a cow (on the premises when I first moved in) and then more horses, the place was still a touchstone to the rural past of Mill Valley from a bygone era. Our dowdy little "dog patch" was surrounded by multi-million dollar mega McMansions. I was always somewhat concerned what the neighbors thought of the place. That's why I liked having them come down to commune with the horses that I boarded here. Whenever I saw a mom with stroller or toddler in tow, I made an effort to visit with them and explain about the place and how irritating it would be for them if the place were to be sold and to be developed into more McMansions. We would all lose this precious link to the past. Sometimes they bought it... All in all, I lived here with horses for over twenty-five years and I still miss not having them here now. The horses and all their antics will have to wait for another time. Meanwhile, WE'VE GOT A COTTAGE TO FINISH!
The other specialist I hired was a mud and tape man. This was another craft that required some skill. I had done my own mud and taping in the studio bathroom and it took a lot of effort on my part; spackle, let dry, sand and repeat. I knew that a good mud and tape man (ok, ok, or woman...) could do it quickly and with vastly superior results. At this point I must confess to the reader that not all the sheetrock joints came out perfect. When Greg showed up I was a little apprehensive about these little gaps. I pointed out my worst mistakes and asked him, "Greg, buddy, because I like you and I think were going to be friends, do you think these joints will tape?" Greg walked the walls and stared up at the ceiling. He looked at me and smiled. "Mike, it's not the most professional job I've ever worked, but you did really well for an amateur. Sure! These joints will tape, no problem!"
Greg had a hand-held gizmo that spread the tape over the mud and because he had been doing this for years, was finished in two days. "I'll be back day after tomorrow to do a little sanding, will float a final finish coat, wait another day, do the final touch-up then you can paint. When he was finished, the walls looked like one big smooth monolithic surface. Now Timmy and I could attack the painting job. My brother may not use a power saw but he can wield a paintbrush like L. da Vinci himself. Soon the painting was done (some kind of egg-shell off white, as I remember). I managed to install the wall to wall carpeting in the living room and bedroom bays with not too much trouble. I laid down the tack strips all along the walls that would hook the carpet edge. I rented a "knee kicker" to stretch the carpet onto the tack strips and amazingly, I ended up with a smooth, flat 24 X 24 foot wall to wall rug. The final touch was to put the cover plates over the light and electrical sockets. As I was doing this, suddenly I heard my brother bark, "Stop! Look what you're doing! You've left dirty smudges around the cover plates and also where you nailed in the floor molding. Go wash your hands." It was true. The place was no longer a construction project where grubby hands (and shoes) were not a problem. While I washed my hands, my brother sponged clean my smudges. "From now on, you've got to be more careful", my brother chided. He was right.
In a later remodel, I turned the downstairs into another room that is now used as the master bedroom.
A view from upstairs leading down to the master bedroom via spiral staircase.
So finally, the big day arrived with my first perspective tenants, who had seen my ad in the local paper: "Come live with us on our three acre homestead. You'll enjoy the company of horses and access to a large organic vegetable garden. Splendid hiking trials are just up the street. Despite living in a lovely rural environment, you're only twenty minutes from San Francisco. The cottage is cozy and completely concealed from neighboring houses. A unique living experience in Mill Valley. The marine breezes from the ocean that's just over the hill keep us refreshingly cool in the summer months when others are sweltering..." (or words to that effect...). Two women showed up and I gave them my best sales pitch (see picture below). They decided that for various reasons---I think they mentioned the horses that were kicking up dust at the time, the view of the funky barn and the problematic access to the street---the place wasn't quite right for them but thanks anyway.
Over the years, the cottage has seen about eight or nine tenants, and many more have come to kick its tires. Invariably if it's a hetero couple, the guy digs the place because of its rural country flavor and the woman finds fault like the women mentioned above. One day, as I was beginning to despair, (maybe I should lower the rent) a vivacious blond woman with a blond Labrador showed up at the door. "Hi! I'm Kate and I'm here about the cottage." I prepared myself for yet another disappointment. I had included a fenced off yard below the cottage and Kate loved it. "Do you accept dogs?" she asked, hopefully. At that moment, I had a little epiphany. This place was perfect for dogs and renters with dogs always had a problem finding a place that would accept their pet. "You bet Kate!", I enthused, "This place is made for a dog owner! You've got your own dog yard right here, below the cottage." "Yea!" she shouted gleefully and with that she gave me a big hug. "Oh Stevie and I love it. We absolutely adore it. I'll take it, I'll take it!", exclaimed Kate. "I can tell we're going to be the bestest of friends!"
Kate, her second dog and da Mayor hanging out at a friend's place
Kate and Mickey da Mayor, just drinking and smoking and enjoying making fun of each other.
My first and favorite tenants, Kate and Stevie Wonder Dog
And just like that I had my first tenant in the little cottage that Mickey and Timmy built. Kate was right. We became the bestest of friends. Looking back over the twenty plus years since she first moved in, I have probably spent more time with my beloved Katie that I have with any other person, including my girlfriend at the time. In fact, I was probably the last person to see her before she passed away, peacefully, in her sleep. It's been awhile, but still the tears quickly well up as I type these words. I miss her every day. Rest In Peace, you silly.
I leave you sadly, Mickey da Mayor of Happy Acres
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