So long skylights

In early 2006, we began talking to architects. In February 2007, the architect we hired was already letting us down. In February 2008, when it was time to get a new architect, I embraced the ranch house vernacular.

There was one key driver for this project and five months ago, the hated feature of this house was finally removed.

“I thought I’d miss the skylights,” Alison commented after walking into our great room on a January afternoon. “But I don’t. It is plenty bright in here.” Aunt Theresa said the same thing on Saturday, when it dawned on her that the 20 holes in the ceiling were now replaced with, well, ceiling.


Matt and I agreed that the room was plenty bright. So bright, in fact, we had to order window treatments (on sale, free shipping). We put up the GreenGuard Certified Solar shades from The Shade Store on Valentine’s Day.

When construction began in August 2008, we decided to turn off the air conditioner to protect the system from all the dust caused by jack hammering concrete and other related activities. We picked up a window fan at Target.

I’m a big fan of the environment and of open windows, but this was August. Although it is said that women don’t perspire, they “glow,” the heat captured in this terrarium of a house didn’t produce a glow, or even sweat, it covered me in a slime coat. That is right. You heard me. Slime coat.

We had tried to mitigate the terrarium factor earlier that summer. After submitting our permit, we figured it wouldn’t be long until construction starts. So we went down into the utility room and brought up a staple gun and the bin marked “fabric and scarves.” Three pieces looked like they would do the trick, a blue table cloth remnant with flowers, a chartreuse tablecloth remnant featuring fruit and a purple silk scare featuring the “ohm” symbol.

Each swatch was then used to cover a skylight over our couch. And it did give us peaceful feeling to be able to see our TV screen before the sun went down. The result was evocative of a circus tent. Or a trailer park. We honestly didn’t care.

When our personal trainer, Tiffiny, saw window treatments, she said, “Oh, I really like that—it looks so cozy.” This is from the same woman who reminds us, “There is no wrong in yoga.”

It helped, it really did. Yet it wasn’t enough. About a month later, during the mid-July heat wave, I obsessively kept checking the weather station in our kitchen to learn that the 84°F temperature indoors was only 10 degrees lower than outdoors.

On Sunday, September 28, chunks fell off of the ceiling. The previous Friday, we had to move the couch to save it from getting wet from the drips of rain.

But no more. No more skylights. No more holes in the ceiling for sun to beat through and rain to stream through. One of the best features of the renovation is the part of the house that is no longer with us.

Aggressive solar

My husband brought my over-sleeping to an end this morning at 8:50 a.m. by informing me that the Imaginary Chipmunk was back. The striped critter occasionally scurries through the great room, easily entering via our faulty foundation.

Usually, only I see him. Once he stopped by when my Mother-in-Law was joining us for lunch. Now Matt “imagined” him, too. Where he is now? No clue. I’m guessing he came in to escape heat only to learn there really was no escape. Like us, he probably fled outside to survive the 96°F weather.

I’m a lover, not a hater. There is one thing that does, however, negatively inflame my passions: the 20 skylights in our great room. I assure you that this feature is hate-worthy. Oh skylights, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways (with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning):

1. I hate thee for your length and width and height as you disrupt my morning and ruin my sight. Let me explain. I wanted to ease into the day before tackling my chores. Get properly caffeinated, see a few home shows, eat a bowl of cereal and chat with my husband… Tough to do when you are blinded by the light. Glaring sunlight. Through each ridiculous skylight (as shown in the Photomerge™ image above; click to enlarge).


2. I hate thee for the level of every day’s most uncomfortable heat, by sun and into night. For example, during the winter, it was 80°F in the room on a day when there was snow on the ground. Today at 3:40 p.m., it was still 95.5° outside—and 80° inside after a full day of running the AC and keeping the shades down. At almost mightnight, it still 76.6° indoors. Balmy! These skylights do not provide the eco-benefit of passive solar—they radiate at us with aggressive solar! How much environmental damage have these roof windows wrought? How much money have they cost us as we try in vain to condition the air in our home?


3. I hate thee purely, as ye let in the rain. With the setting of the sun, we saw the storm in “stereo” on both the local weather channel as a green blob and out our windows. Across the lake, neighbors presented an impressive fireworks display, with thunder as applause and lightning as the crescendo. Then came the rain down—and the rain came in.

Hopefully, it won’t be too much longer until the builder slays my nemesis; Matt dropped off the permit application at the municipal building department on Friday. Sonnet 43 says it best: I shall but love thee better after thy death.