How to Prepare for a Home Makeover Without Losing Your MindWhat to Focus On Initially When Updating an Aging Home 19

How to Prepare for a Home Makeover Without Losing Your MindWhat to Focus On Initially When Updating an Aging Home 19

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This one stupid tap wasn't even broken. Just temperamental. You had to turn it just so and then back toward center to get non-freezing water. If you messed up the angle, it'd let out a weird sound. Not loud, but sharp — like a dying violin. I let it go for far longer than I should've. Blamed the plumbing. Blamed the building. Blamed everything except myself.

One afternoon, I was home early, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I can't stand this setup.

It wasn't a breakdown. More like a background noise that had finally forced its way to the surface. The cutlery tray slid around, the bench was basically decorative, and the top cabinet door slammed my face every time I opened the dishwasher. I'd started to brace like it was a reflex.

I pulled out a receipt back and wrote “replace kitchen faucet” at the top. Beneath that: “longer bench,” then “why is it behind the fridge?” The question mark wasn't a joke. The switch really was behind the fridge.

I told myself I'd start small. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, being stared at by brushed nickel options, I somehow ended up with paint cards under my arm. And then came the mess.

I didn't hire a pro. I probably should've. Instead, I watched a video at 1am from my friend Rory, who said, “Don't aim at anything alive.” Not exactly the comforting guidance, but I ran with it.

Taking down that upper cabinet felt like the beginning of something. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that tolerated nonsense.

The journey spiraled. Not in a disaster way, just... naturally. I spent three hours googling “do I need primer?”. Got into a minor debate with a more info guy on a forum about silicone gaps. I still don't really understand epoxy, but I'm convinced he was full of it.

And the new tap? Still squeaks. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've given up.

It's not perfect. The tile near the bin's slanted, and the outlet by the toaster leans left. But when I step in, I don't feel dread. That alone is something.

And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, might be the real achievement.