Renovating Life

Like many homeowners, I am a reluctant remodeler. Not that I mean that I am reluctant about having my house updated. Rather that I am literally a reluctant remodeler of my own house. When I was growing up, and in college, and even after college when I was living in apartments, I would dream of one day owning my own house. I had fantasies about getting a great deal on a place and stripping away years of paint and wallpaper to discover the glory of the original woodwork and the plaster walls. Tearing out carpet and refinishing the hardwood floors. Updating baths and kitchens in the style of the age of the house, but with modern amenities. And after all of the work, surely no more than a year of effort, I would imagine myself reclining near the fire, the warm tones of the wood reflected all around, drinking my tea and reading a book. 


Now you see why I said that I was fantasizing. Sometimes I still do fantasize about the last part, even though I've owned a house for 16 years now, and I am nowhere near realizing that vision. I can't believe that I expected to get all of the renovations done in a year. I actually thought that I would move on to the outside right after that, creating an elaborate garden that would land me on the local garden tour. It was a five year plan, the garden tour. It's still a five year plan except that it's always five years out. 

Who the fuck knew that owning a house was so expensive? Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me not to renovate? All of the home and garden shows lie. It takes way more time and money and planning and zoning and permits and pain and skinned knuckles to achieve even moderate success on large projects. I've come to learn that when they say that a house has charm, what they really mean is that nothing is level, square, or plumb. 

When I finish a project, I find myself going to that area and just...being. It's very calming being in a space that is finished. Especially one that you created. One of my first projects in the house was painting. Putting color on the walls and ceiling that you choose and that you like and that bring you joy. It's the equivalent of pissing on something to claim ownership. Look, I made the room a different color so now it's mine. But then I went further and added shelves and some crown molding and some custom shutters to the spare bedroom to give it a Nantucket feel. Once it was finished and decorated it felt, I don't know, whole. over the years as my other projects progressed, and many times languished, I would walk up the stairs to our guest bedroom and simply stand in a space that was complete. It would help to put my mind in order and to remind me of the possibility of my languishing ongoing present projects. 

The living room was the second major project. Creating a doorway into the kitchen where there was once only a wall. New pocket doors. Paneling under the stairs, new lights, a ceiling fan, and a new fireplace. I didn't do the fireplace, or the radiant floor heat, but I did everything else. I learned how to frame a wall. I learned how to hang and finish drywall. I used a drywall lift for 12 foot ceiling panels. I tore out plaster, framed in a doorway, and spent more time on YouTube, and more money on tools, than I ever anticipated. Yes, I have reclined on the sofa, drinking tea, whilst basking in the warmth of the fire. But it was short lived because there were other projects: an office, a bathroom, the foyer, and finally the kitchen. 

Ugh, the kitchen. I am not a contractor by trade, and as such I realize my limitations. I had no intentions of renovating the kitchen. Sure, I had managed to acquire skills and tools and experience working on other rooms, but this was a serious down to the studs gut and remodel. It was big. It was daunting. It was time to call in a contractor. And just like every other remodel project it didn't work out as expected. I am, once again, a reluctant contractor. This time I am living without a kitchen, and living with a lawsuit for a job that was supposed to take eight weeks and has lasted well over two years. Not that the contractors have worked that long. No. Their engagement ended just after the demolition of the walls and ceiling and tile floor was complete. Shortly after that legal proceeding started, and continue to this day. But that is another story. 

It's probably better this way. Not the lawsuit part, but the fact that I am working on it. I still know my limitations, and there will be subcontractors for things like plumbing and wiring, but I am encountering unexpected things as work progresses, and I am taking the time to address them properly rather than kludging together something to get by and simply covering it up for the next person to deal with. I doubt that our contractor would have cared enough to point them out or address them. But before you get all excited, know that this is not going to turn into a metaphor about peeling away the layers. Finding the past. Seeing the fragility of the framework. Realizing that your house, like life, is built upon unsteady foundations prone to settling. It's nothing so deep or introspective. It's just a story about living with adversity, dealing with it one step at a time, and realizing that the outcome, and yourself, are probably going to be better off in the end. But goddamn does it take a lot of time and effort. 

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