So I lied. I tipped back my hat, put my hands in my pockets, leaned back and said, “Woo-wee, glad that wagon’s finished and I can finally think about something else.” And though I am happy that thoughts about the trash book have space in my head again, looking at all those pictures of the finished product is making me feel all gushy.

I look at those before and after pictures, and I get a twitch in my fingers to tell you all about the little things that have made such a small space just the right size for everything I could possibly need. I want to tell you about which things in those pictures were dumpster dived (brag would probably be the more appropriate verb), and I want to share all the tricks of the DIY building trade that I’ve learned over the last year. And that’s probably just what I’m going to end up doing. No time like the present…

As far as building with scavenged materials go, an active imagination is the most important tool of all. Wow. Helloooooo kitschy-sounding statement. Sounds like the kind of bullshit people spout on about at graduations. But it doesn’t make this particular statement any less true.

Objects tend to get stuck in our perceptions of their prescribed uses. That is, we stick them in a specific role with a specific function (chairs are for sitting, curtains are for covering windows, etc) and once they occupy a certain space in our minds and homes, we don’t let them be anything else, however good of a wall a table top could make (or table cloth a curtain could make, or curtain rod an old table leg could make). Once things outlive the uses we have assigned them, they often get tossed instead of re-imagined into places we might never have expected to find them.

Instead of tossing an item past its alleged prime, it could be re-invented, given a second life, resurrected. Dumpsters are full of the tools for a lifetime worth of mad scientist-esque building projects, and you’d never have to spend a dime. (An entirely over-rated activity as it is. Dimes too, could probably be put to better use in other fields.) I reckon that the people who are going to be the best off come the (apparently) impending apocalypse are going to be those who can re-imagine and re-fashion the waste left behind by our civilization into whatever they find themselves needing–a skill not unimportant in, well, pretty much any situation, time, or place.

There are a lot of examples around the wagenplatz where I live, and in the midst of a picture-taking frenzy, I captured a few examples for your consideration. Take this picture of my wood stove pipe. Can you spot the re-invented bit?

It’s the bit of black metal protecting the wood siding from the heat of the pipe. That’s an old baking pan I found on the floor of one of our kitchens, unused, and covered in dust. I traced the stove pipe on it, used an angle grinder to cut out a pipe-sized hole, and screwed it onto the wall. Coincidentally, the strip of metal holding the pipe upright was also scavenged, though what it was in its previous life I am not sure.

Though I scavenged quite a bit of stovepipe from the Sperrmuell (big trash such as furniture and the like) and was given some by friends, I bought this bit of pipe when I discovered that the opening on my new (old–a gift from a friend moving to an apartment with dial-run heating) was too small for the pipe I’d found. Usually I would have waited for the dumpster gods to grace me with a solution, but the chill of winter was too immediate to wait.

Perhaps the item in the next photo is more obvious (though rather tiny):

If you have a vertical chimney pipe, rain tends to get in it, which in turn sometimes creates a gross ashy goo that is especially irritating if it starts dripping back into your fire. And more so than in other configurations, wind will sometimes blow smoke back down vertical pipes and into your room. This is especially dangerous if you are sleeping in said room at the time and don’t notice, or in the worst case scenario, ever wake up again. Above you can see a small pot lid re-purposed as a solution to those problems. (This is also why you’ll see a “T”-shaped bit of pipe at the top of my chimney.)

Three’s company, and I love company, so here’s one more picture of a particularly spacey chimney-goo/wind solution in the form of an old metal lamp shade.

And don’t let the title of this post mislead you: You can re-invent the kitchen sink too. In fact I have one lying in my shed right now. Anybody got a suggestion for what I should do with it?

After having dragged you all along on this year-long renovation experiment, it seems only fair to share the bounty. I am a bit late to the start, and I have been chagrined by your pleas for photographic evidence. You see, I am plagued with a streak of neurotic perfectionism that greatly contradicts my general fondness for chaos, and I have been scrambling over unfinished, unimportant details in order to make trash house (as I fondly like to call my mostly scavenged diy masterpiece) all the more shiny and spectacular for you before removing her virtual veil.

Frankly, I am astounded that I’m really finished—well, finished enough to be sleeping in trash house, lighting the wood stove in trash house, and gazing around the room looking at the physical reality of what I’ve been imagining for over a year. Technically I’m not really finished—someday soon the pleas of my frozen feet will be too loud to ignore and I will insulate the floor—but as far as daily life goes, trash house is ready to have a bottle of champagne smashed against her snow-bobbled buttocks.

So, though I find her innards more attractive in the detailed photos I posted yesterday as a preview, here are some before-and-after pictures for your consideration. May they astound you the way that comparing my memories of the last year to the present astounds me.

once upon a wagon…

When I first got trash house home from Rüsselsheim after digging her out of the garden where she’d spent the last 20 years she looked like this:

My very own sleeping beauty, given to me for zero euro because sometimes people would rather just be rid of something than to do the work of taking it with them when they move. My first task was to insulate the walls. Below you’ll find her stripped and defiled some months later:

And today, parked in a new spot, covered in snow, and bedecked with a wind chime from the beloved Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles:

The siding in the pictures above was born of an ex-ceiling from the Beard’s mother’s house. The hose carries water from the rain gutter and into the rain barrel that will make watering my garden next summer exponentially easier. The hose is from the trash, the barrel is from the trash, the ladder, the candle holder, trash, trash, trash, etc, usw, et. al.

In the picture below you can see the one side I managed to cover with the original boards (only one side’s worth of boards survived the crow bar’s wrath and my impatience), and the end I sided with boards from Natasha’s ex-ceiling. Most of them were kind of fucked, so next summer will probably see another brief re-siding project. My neurotic side wishes that all four sides looked exactly the same, but since I usually don’t have to look at them all at once, and I like having saved some of those purdy original boards, my neurosis’ twitchy pleas for further symmetry remain quiet enough to ignore.

And, lo!, please note the glass that graces the bed-side window. Oo la la.

So friends, you’ve seen the ads, now let’s take a look inside.

First, the climatic before photo. Summer 2009: shortly after hauling trash house home from Rüsselsheim, I filled her innards with huge Styrofoam bits that I intended to slice into insulation-sized pieces. Those blocks ended up back in the trash where I’d found them after I discovered that cutting Styrofoam is a big messy, pain in the arse. Many other objects have come from (and gone back to) the trash since. I even made 40 euros selling what it turned out I didn’t need at the flea market for 50 cents a pop.

Note the small window to your right, the unpleasantly bland wall and ceiling color, and the cardboard-brown color of the floor for future comparison:

Today: wha-la! Lived in, cheerful, and filled with the crap I call my possessions:

As seen when facing in the opposite direction (with my back to the door), before the make-over:

And don’t forget the big fucking hole in the wall where I had to cut out some scary sponge mold! Wasn’t that a blast! Does the fun ever start?! (Ugh.)

Here today, gone tomorrow. Hot, hot damn.

And there you have it folks, a fugue in wagon minor, a year’s worth of learned building skills, and an incredible amount of timely dumpster dived resources: my finished house. And the best part? The even better bestest of the best part? The whole thing–the house, moving costs, building materials, and tools–cost me under 1000 euros.

Trash house: check. Trash book: pending. Whew. Finally I’ll have time to think about something else.

This post was a part of Metamorphosis Monday at Between Naps on the Porch, DIY Thrifty Thursday at Thrifty 101, Things I Love Thursday at The Diaper Diaries, Strut Your Stuff at Somewhat Simple, Transform Thursday at The Shabby Creek Cottage, Thrifty Thursday at Tales from Bloggeritaville, Fresh Friday at Release Me Create, Farmgirl Friday at Dandelion House, Frugal Friday at The Shabby Nest, Frugal Friday at Life as Mom and Tutorials & Tips at Home Stories A to Z.