The people who put in this tile years ago were a pessimistic bunch. They obviously could see ahead to some horrible cataclysm, some disaster of biblical proportions, a nuclear event maybe, so they used all their skill to build a sanctuary that would survive any possible earthquake or hurricane or supernova, with tile walls about two inches thick and laced together with wire mesh. Yes, we will need a place to shower in the scorched post-apocalyptic world.
A friend suggested that I try a carbide blade for my reciprocating saw, but it was no use. So I went back to my same approach, using rotating sessions of sledge hammer and crowbar, getting those meager-sized pieces.
I guess I knew what I should do all along but was too stubborn to see it. Each minor success with my hammer/pull approach propelled me mindlessly forward. Way back in my mind, though, I could see it--I knew the wall would almost fall off by itself if not for the corners.
I think I know how a punched-out prize fighter feels. With nothing left you try the rope-a-dope, you buy some time and look for the other guy's weakness. Then you pull out the hammer.
Now I have about a thousand pounds of wall to bag up and carry downstairs and outside...
Hammer time!
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