Beech Tree News Network

Have you ever attempted to strip wallpaper from a wall that has been in place for over twenty years?  Don’t.  If I hadn’t started already, I wouldn’t continue.  As it is, there is a gaping section of wallpaper-less wall against a paint color in stark contrast to the color scheme in the paper itself, so here I am.
    The problem is the person who put the wallpaper on the wall knew what she was doing and did an excellent job in the process, hence my difficulty in removing it.  I started the task a week ago, working steadily each day, and I presently have less than a quarter of the room completed.  I knew I was in trouble when I handed my granddaughter a plastic knife and told her to tear into the paper on the bottom half, beneath the chair rail, while I worked on the top half.  She is a three-year-old who can tear up a steel ball with a rubber hammer—you know the type.  She barely made a dent in the paper removal before becoming frustrated at her lack of progress, and moved on to easier tasks, like rotating the tires on her tricycle and untangling the kite string that was wrapped around the kitchen chairs.
    I’m not sure what the active ingredient is in wallpaper paste, but I feel the chemists who invented the adhesive underestimated the invention’s possibilities when they limited the glue to a household application.  They could have sold the patent to NASA for a fortune.  It would be a wonderful adhesive for the heat shield tiles that protect rockets and space shuttles upon their re-entry into earth’s atmosphere.  I know the paste withstands heat, because I have both ironed and steamed the paper, and it clings to the wall like a bald man to his toupee on a blustery afternoon.
    I’ve tried the professional products: DIF, TSP, Goo-Gone; and the non-professional products: vinegar and water, fabric softener and water, baking soda and water, ammonia and water, and just plain water, for good measure, but nothing apart from very sharp razor blades has made much of a difference.
 I have toyed with the idea of a flame thrower and fire hose with increasing frequency, but maybe it won’t come to that.  I will have to say I am acquiring more patience and resourcefulness than I’ve had or had to use in days past.  If Mr. Miyagi had made the Karate Kid strip wallpaper instead of paint, he would have accomplished the desired discipline in half the time.
My husband, Garey, walks past my ladder as I steam and scrape and mutter my complaints.  He shakes his head and says very little.  He told me before I started the process that he liked the room the way it was—it’s the one time in my life I wish I’d listened to him.  Garey is a big “way it was” person.  I’ve always leaned toward the “way it could be” camp.  I blame it on my Victorian ancestors and their need to improve everything. 
I can’t turn back now.  The good news is I started in enough time to have the job completed before the Christmas holidays—if I put in ten-hour days and don’t take lunch breaks, that is.