Life As A House

If there’s one thing most boomers probably have thought about (even if they haven’t actually done it), it’s a remodel. And why not?!? It eats only a few months … well, maybe six … or maybe a whole year … okay, sometimes more than a year out of our lives. As Laurey Boyd writes, she and her husband Bill went the whole nine yards … and still might not be close to the finish line.

Our family lives in a house built by rugged individuals over time. That is to say that Doober, Goober, and Bubba each got just so far in their jerry-rigged, sub-code sequential renderings before each one put the hill country charmer up for sale. Enter city rubes, Laurey and Bill. We spotted this idyllic beauty in a real estate magazine and were smitten. We stayed smitten for quite some time, even while knowing the place had been built by sparing every expense. Superfluous and otherwise. Such is love.

We approached our rural digs with urban naiveté and enchantment. The surroundings were lovely; hilly green acreage that reminded us of New England. The house itself was really secondary. It was serviceable and with our hope and energy, why, we’d have this place gorgeous in no time.

The initial enthusiasm lasted for several years. Then a creeping jadedness and exhaustion began to set in. This place needed so much and we were so tired of the overwhelming labor and expense. We decided to go back to “residential living,” something that would be move-in ready, updated, and closer to town. We put our once heart-capturing hill country charmer on the market and nervously waited for potential buyers to come to call.

After a few months on a cooled market, an unannounced agent came to the door with some lean and hungry buyers. I looked at Bill. Bill looked at me. Just when what we were waiting for came to our doorstep, we realized that we did not want to sell our Goober, Doober, & Bubba special at any price. No matter its flaws, the house was our home and had imprinted itself into our psyches. We just couldn’t abandon it and go live in a cookie cutter subdivision, no matter how easy it would have made our lives. We called our own agent, paid a small fee to get out of the contract, and celebrated our narrow escape.

When funds did materialize in ample enough supply to really take on the giant, I scrutinized our property with a keen take–no-prisoners dispassion. The rutted, not so quaint country driveway was smoothed. The old blue carpet was replaced with laminate and a neutral loop. A small deck was built off the dining area to finally give us a place to sit and view the hilly vista behind the house. Driveway — done. Floors — done. Outdoor living space — done.

Now we turn to the mother of all remodeling projects: the kitchen. The words are barely out before winces of pain creep onto my husband’s face. The expenses (expected and unexpected), the anticipated time without a sink or stove, the piles of culinary detritus taking up space in another room, the “you better be sure ‘cause you’re going to live with this a lo—–ng time” choices. It can all be too much.

Upon hearing my latest estimates, my husband just stares dourly at me for sustained intervals. I awkwardly wait in limbo for the possibility that the whole thing might be scrapped. It feels like we are riding an old car that is alternately accelerating and braking every few feet. Not only are we getting nowhere but also being terribly jolted as we’re taken for a ride.

I’ve considered the idea of quietly dropping the whole thing as casually as if I were walking away from a trinket at a pricey shop. Oh, that. I wasn’t really interested. “Just looking.” But the thought lasts about two seconds before I am mentally sledgehammering my way through our old cabinets and eviscerating the room in a style reminiscent of Kathy Bates in “Fried Green Tomatoes.” I need more light, more air.

Yes, it is a test of marital strength and perhaps wisely deferred ‘til a later time. But surely we have developed enough in our twenty-six years of marriage to take this step now. Surely we have evolved enough spiritually to undertake even this character-challenging disruption in the heart of our home. Ya think?

If we can just hold the image of the beautiful transformation that our efforts will have borne for just a teensy bit of time … well then, we’ll at last have the home of our dreams.

Except for the master bath………

Popularity: 89% [?]