Where to Focus On Before Anything Else When Improving an Dated HomeThe Ultimate Guide for a Successful Home Renovation 76
This one stupid tap wasn't even technically malfunctioning. Just slow. You had to twist it slightly left and then back into position to get non-freezing water. If you went too far, it'd screech. Not aggressive, but oddly high-pitched — like a kettle screaming. I let it go for too long. Blamed the plumbing. Blamed the setup. Blamed everything except myself.
One rainy evening, I was home before dark, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I hate this kitchen.
It wasn't a rage fit. More like a background noise that had finally gotten louder. The cutlery tray slid around, the bench was too short, and the top cabinet door kept hitting me every time I opened the dishwasher. I'd started to flinch early.
I pulled out a receipt back and wrote “new tap” at the top. Beneath that: “actual counter space,” then “why is it behind the fridge?” The question mark wasn't sarcastic. The switch really was inexplicably placed.
I told myself I'd start small. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the aisle of chaos three days later, holding a tap, I somehow ended up with paint cards under my arm. And then came check here the point of no return.
I didn't hire a pro. I probably should've. Instead, I watched a video at 1am from my friend Rory, who told me to "be careful-ish" Not exactly the OSHA standard, but I got started.
Taking down that upper cabinet felt like a rebellion. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that made excuses.
The project spiraled. Not badly, just... inevitably. I spent three hours googling “do I need primer?”. Got into a minor argument with a guy on a Reddit thread about “the best tile spacing tool”. I still don't really trust epoxy, but I'm convinced he was wrong.
And the new tap? Still squeaks. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've learned to live with it.
It's not a showroom. The tile near the bin's slanted, and the outlet by the toaster feels off-balance. But when I stand there, I don't feel dread. That alone is enough.
And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, might be the real achievement.