In case you don’t know me in real life… or do and haven’t yet realized that all I seem to be capable of talking about these days is either (a) upcoming-marathon jitters or (b) the fifteen bandages on my fingers as a result of kicking off a home renovation… uh, we’re renovating.
We’ve been in our house for nearly a dozen years. When we built, and knowing that we didn’t really know our own tastes well enough at that point, we deliberately selected from the the wee-tiny selection of builder-grade finishing options. Those options sucked, to be honest. They were cheap, and we grudgingly opted for colours and styles and qualities that we knew we could live with for a while. We also knew we were going to want to upgrade at some point, so why invest in high quality materials we sort of liked and knew we would eventually replace?
The fact is that we live in our house. Live in. Enjoy. Use. With all the associated wear-and-tear that comes with such a lifestyle. We cook in our kitchen. We entertain in our living room. We traipse through the rooms and have filled our little space with memories.
So… of course, it’s starting to show some age.
The renovation begins…
Of course, this was supposed to be a summer project… then the dog got sick, and life got distracted, and winter came early. So, having just kinda, sorta kicked off the project by spending some money and filling our dining room with some of the supplies, we were suddenly in a bind: either sit on in for six months and wait until next summer, or just get going.
We got going.
I’m not doing all the work tho. We’ve got help. But we are doing most of the demolition. We are doing all of the painting. We are installing the new floors. We’re probably doing some of the other nitpicky work that anybody slightly handy with some spare time and a few tools can manage to do.
And now the clock is ticking: the weekend, thus, turned into a work-fest. When I got home on Thursday evening we still had a full floor (save for a few tiles I had chipped out experimentally_ but by the time Sunday evening rolled ’round, the painting was 80% done, the floor was mostly bare, and about 20% of the kitchen had been disassembled. We are officially living in a construction zone.
I took a full load of scraps to the ecostation on Friday, with it the tile that used to adorn our front entry (including the plywood to which it had been mounted) and the angular chunk of cheap-o builder-grade carpet that had served as our living room floor for the last decade.
We’ve been plucking nails, pulling baseboards, and I’ve breathed in so many paint fumes from the never-ending painting that I have a permanent headache. But, apart from the fact that the catalyst for all this was the kitchen and we’ve barely touched that, we’re at this point where we can start to see that the new space is going to look pretty good: we like our new colours, the floor is going to flow better in the space (so it won’t feel so chunky) and it will have a lighter, cleaner look when we finish it all…
That finish line may be closer to Christmas time than originally intended, but right now I can live with that.