no pictures, because I can hardly sit up at the computer to write this for you (all 10 of you – hi Mom! hi Andy!)
I woke up bug eyed and managed to persuade my patient husband that we needed to remove the wallpaper from the room that is our shared workspace. I rented a steamer, and got good advice from the grizzled veteran behind the counter, and came home to address myself to it. Patient Al came in and helped, and it turns out that with patience, the steamer is a magical and faintly zen tool. When you move slowly enough, the wallpaper peels off the wall with the ease and grace, and hardly any scraping. We had giant swatches of paper (many of which reglued themselves to the floor). We thought we'd be lucky to get one wall done. We managed to move EVERYTHING and get three walls done, which is better than it sounds because the 4th wall had no wallpaper.
The walls are plaster over lathe, and I can see some horsehair in the plaster. The house isn't that old – we think 1917 – 1919 roughtly – but apparently it predates sheetrock.
We still have to wash (and wash and wash) the glue off, and prime and paint. And half the room contents are on the floor of my bedroom waiting to be put back once paint and new table and new shelves and drawers are installed. I have gone from a torn apart room that was workable, to a completely blown up room that is utterly unusable.
And yet, I am oddly cheerful. And exhausted.