I have this habit of wanting to get into a project gung-ho once I decide said project warrants execution.
I tend to dwell more on envisioning the finished project than on the necessary steps and precautions that should be taken. By golly, I want my brilliant idea executed yesterday.
My most recent brilliant idea involved do-it-myself furniture rehabilitation.
My husband Dre and I have several pieces we love. Two of them, a chest of drawers and a drum table, are Duncan Phyfe-look pieces I bought years ago at antique malls. The third is a massive, carved coffee table I fell in love with at Dillard's, also years ago -- a piece whose top has a lovely burled wood design.
Because we've moved a few more times in my adulthood than we expected or cared to, the Duncan Phyfe pieces have taken their share of beatings. The coffee table's surface took its hits from (sigh) a sad lack of beverage coasters and my lack of foresight concerning using nail polish remover anywhere around it.
Our recent move didn't enhance the furniture any, so I decided the coffee table and drum table needed restaining, along with a short, wide, two-shelf bookcase whose blond wood didn't fit in with our darker pieces. I was buoyed by having watched enough HGTV and DIY network shows to think I could have tried to build a house single-handedly.
What I didn't decide to do was go on the Internet first and research the ins and outs of such an undertaking. I bought a can of mahogany stain and a brush, grabbed some newspapers to protect the floor and, one Sunday afternoon, happily slathered the stain onto the furniture. It wasn't until later that I read I should have lightly sandpapered the furniture before staining it.
Somehow I'd blocked it out of my mind that our ability to withstand strong, noxious odors disappeared somewhere with our youth. And that the little white masks you can find at the dollar store, and whose elastic bands always come unattached on one side, don't help us much, even when we wear multiple ones at one time. During the initial staining of the three pieces of furniture plus a pair of shabby-chic dining chairs over whose existing finish I decided to rag-roll some stain, I forgot to run the fan or allow for any ventilation. Another hard reality: Sitting on a hardwood floor at a certain age means a sore and sensitive tailbone for the next couple of days.
It soon became obvious that I needed to apply finish atop the stain. I took the easy way out and went for spray-on finish rather than brush-on. The can of finish barely lasted the two recommended coats apiece for the restained furniture, but at least this time I turned on some fans and ventilated the place.
The end result could be worse. The coffee table has a beautiful sheen, too, albeit blotchy in the light ... and of course the scars are still there. The bookcase bears an uneven staining job that gives it a distressed/shabby-chic finish that looks intentional. The delicate-framed rag-rolled chairs probably came out the best -- they required the least amount of work and look as expected.
The drum table? It's quite beautiful if you ignore the gob of wood filler near the bottom that I forgot to sand. (Matter of fact, I forgot to sand the wood filler in the other places I put it.) The gob now faces the wall. And, hey, there are experts who say you don't want your antique furniture to look too perfect anyway, right? It'll have to stay like it is. The job took its toll. I'm too old for this stuff.
"I think after this I'll quit while I'm ahead and leave future furniture restoration to the experts," I told Dre.
He made his usual "Yes, dear, I think that would be wise"-type response that translates as, "Um, thanks. Yes, please stop trying to kill us both."
Yes, sirree. Having dodged a few biological and environmental BBs -- if not bullets this time -- I'm prepared to cool my Rehab Addict jets.
As soon as I get that bathroom storage unit repainted.
Do-it-yourself email:
hwilliams@arkansasonline.com
Style on 02/01/2015