Renovation shines a light on many flaws that we would like to keep hidden…
I have an older house. Built in the mid-70’s, it represents an odd in-between period of American suburbia: the time before big bathrooms and open floor plans, a time when a sunken living room was not uncommon, but yet a time when bedrooms and backyards had not yet become the size of a postage stamp. My husband and I felt drawn to the house for several reasons, most notably the basement, the ample yard and rooms that were truly roomy. We paid asking price knowing full well that almost nothing in the house had been updated in the previous 30 years.
Enter me: the obsessive procrastinating perfectionist with a touch of laziness. Enter my husband: mostly oblivious to the state of things, content to ignore certain matters of disrepair. It’s a terrible combination for renovators. We started with small changes such as new paint and minor cosmetic fixes. Two years later we (I) tackled one of the biggest home renovations I hope to ever oversee; a complete renovation of the kitchen. It was long, it was costly, and it was not without occasional tears on my part.
The slow renovation of a home teaches one many lessons. First there are the obvious lessons of prioritizing, planning and budgeting. Fortunately I haven’t had many stumbles in this area – my kitchen project happened fairly seamlessly in retrospect, and in the end we were only 10% or so over our budget. The second lesson is one that has very slowly permeated my thoughts: will I be happy when (if) my house is completely up to my standards? What will I do with my free time then? This thought process made me realize that I will never be happy if I am always living in the future. “Things will be great once x, y and z are done!” has long been the mantra I use to make it through another busy day or another busy project. But the truth is that things are not great even after z is complete. The completion of one task always coincides with the start of another. As it turns out, I never allow myself a moment of peace during a project OR while I am in-between tasks. I’ve tied my fulfillment to the idea of getting it all done – a moving target that I will never reach.
This past week I knocked a few more items off of my house to-do list. It was nothing major; we replaced some doors and a light fixture. These are things that have been on the list for quite some time and I’m glad that they are now complete (or I should say, almost complete – I still have to paint the new doors). I am already thinking about the next project; a bathroom renovation. Following that we will replace a sliding glass door and fix up the basement. These things all desperately need to happen, not to mention that I also need to fix a few lingering things in the kitchen, I need to paint the family room, we need to clean out and fix up the garage, and we are talking about replacing the deck with a porch and/or patio. I’m beginning to realize that I simply do not have the resources to do everything that I want to do when I want to do it.
It’s hard to be happy and content in the present when the very sight of your home reminds you of an eternal to-do list. I’m working on that. I want to retain a sense of peace even when I am within sight of a task undone. I fully recognize that even if my house was completely up to my specifications, I would find something else to obsess over. Instead of letting my to-do list run my life, I am trying to sit back and enjoy the process of turning this old house into my family’s home. I’m thankful for the discovery that the life I am living is often not the life that I want to live.
What are some ideas for embracing the idea that “the journey is the destination?