Week One - Are we there yet?

We’re a full week in on the house remodel. The cat has accepted her new normal, and the dogs seem to think that every one that is here is here for them and them alone. Terrie and I have adapted to cramped spaces, dust everywhere, bird baths in the kitchen sink, and always wearing shoes. The front entry-way and the living room hold all of my possessions from my room, furniture has been disassembled and placed in every nook and cranny, and the rest of the house contains enough construction equipment and supplies to rival Lowe’s.

One week ago, demolition began. They started in the bathroom by removing the hideous plastic shower enclosure. I’ve mentioned that the owners before me fancied themselves to be quite the do-it-yourself’ers. Well, they weren’t. Instead of installing it correctly (which takes time), they did it quickly and “good enough.’’ Long story short, surprises lay hidden once the enclosure was removed - surprises like just gluing the enclosure to 2 x 4s and a ripe environment for nasties to grow.  Additional fun stuff included electrical wiring that followed no safety code, rusted out bolts, and walls that were held together with nails, glue, and prayers. By the end of the day, you couldn’t tell if the house was being torn down or rebuilt. We had no shower, no sink, and no bathroom door. The only thing useable was the toilet (thankfully!).

Originally the plan was to work on the bathroom, then my room, and then the spare room. The thought was that as each room reached completion, furniture and whatnot could be moved into that room so the work on the next room could begin unencumbered. One thing I’ve learned over the past week is that no plan in the remodeling world is ever written in ink. I think if any plan is written, it’s done in invisible ink – so there’s no proof that there was once a plan.

On the same morning that the bathroom became unusable (save the toilet), I received a text from my contractor, Mike. He needed me to get all of my stuff out of my room and finish emptying the spare room because they were going to remove the popcorn ceilings and begin work on those rooms as well. This led to everything being hastily boxed and moved to the entry room and living room. I was quite proud that I was able to get it all done in about 3 hours and I even managed to keep things somewhat organized. Popcorn ceilings were successfully removed from both rooms (who in their right mind ever thought that it was a good thing to do???) and my closet, my teeny-tiny little closet of about 3 feet long and 2 feet deep was ripped out. By the time the guys were done on the first day, everything, living or otherwise, was covered in a coating of fine white dust.

As the week progressed, we continued to have only toilet access in the bathroom, and every space available to fill had been filled. The dogs still have their beds (god forbid they lose their beds), Terrie’s room is still standing, and we each have a “safe” spot to hunker in the evenings. Yesterday we lost the toilet. But we gained access to the shower. Go ahead. I’ll give you a moment to comprehend the implication.

Every evening after the crew leaves, Terrie and I attempt to reclaim some of the house – either by cleaning something and trying to tidy it up, or rearranging the crew’s gear, so an animal or human doesn’t accidentally chop off a limb or something. It’s a no-win situation, but it doesn’t keep us from trying. Before I can go to bed at night, I sweep and mop a small corner of my room to remove the day’s dust. Then I get out my aerobed (probably the best purchase EVER) and set it up. In the morning, everything gets put away – ready for the day’s activities.

So a week into my remodel, and what have I learned? Most importantly – being able to “go with the flow” is not just a saying, but survival. In the Army, we would say, “improvise, adapt, and overcome.”  Remodeling comes with inconvenience. Remodeling a 117 year-old-house comes with complications. And remodeling an old house while living in it adds so many layers of improvisation that if it were an art piece, it would be a Jason Pollock on top of a Frida Kahlo, mixed in with Monet and van Gogh. Let’s say that the show, “This Old House” is fantasy – nothing ever goes as smoothly as they depict. It is a trying, exciting, exhausting, worrisome, wonderful project that I am fortunate to experience - and I am very glad that Mike Chavez and his crew of crazy-talented craftsmen are in charge of my remodel.