All I Wanted Was A Little R & R

All I wanted was a little R & R this summer. Rest and Remodeling. Nothing more than a simple project completed well before school was back in session. The kids and I would spend our days at the beach while simultaneously revamping our house. I knew exactly what we were getting ourselves into.

After all, I watch HGTV.

The look I was going for was “Montage Spa and Resort” without spending $450 bucks a night for the privilege. Amid a flurry of pages torn from home magazines, I patiently explained to my husband it was mostly a matter of adding a dash of wainscoting and molding to give the house that luxurious built-in feel.

He was dubious, but he didn’t say no. So I started bidding out the job before he could come up with a hundred excellent reasons to leave well enough alone. I promised to do the hard work; he wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.

I imagined the construction workers. They would be powerfully muscled and wearing only jeans, boots, and leather tool belts. I would have plenty of fresh squeezed lemonade on hand. After working all day, maybe we’d indulge in a little touch football in the cul-de-sac. That’s how it works on “Trading Spaces.”

Now I am thinking they fake all that for tv.

Nothing has worked out how I envisioned. It is now September and I can show you plenty of Before pictures but not a single After. I have an uprooted toilet on either side of me as I write, but no floor to speak of. There may be ancient civilizations buried under the drywall dust on top of my fridge and still not a single worker has initiated an impromptu football game.

I hate to admit this is out of control. It was sort of like a late night eating binge where it all begins as “just one bite.” Initially we were just going to remove ugly wallpaper.

But what to do once the paper was down? We’d have to texture the walls. Then paint. And if we were going to paint and have the house torn up anyway maybe we should go ahead and replace the perfectly serviceable floor with something a bit nicer. And if we do the floor, we’d need new baseboard to go with the wainscoting. Of course the windows need to tie into the wainscoting so we better trim them out and replace the slider while doing the floor. So the list got longer.

Not a single thing was easy. Turns out the wallpaper was practically tattooed to the walls. The Removal Guy complained bitterly that his fingers were bleeding by the end of the day. I guessed that meant football was out.

When the three-day job was going on nine, he hit me up for another thousand bucks. Do I look employed to you, I wondered? I very politely declined his request. He very politely declined to paint my ceiling. I politely shoved the bid under his nose and pointed to the words “paint ceiling.”

He said that only meant the family room. I asked if he included paintbrushes in his estimate and it is safe to say things deteriorated from there.

Strangers were manhandling all of our valuable stuff. Every item cracked, dinged or damaged was conveniently “already broken” when brought to their attention. The kitchen was taped off. There was nowhere to sit. Everywhere we stepped, we tracked wallpaper glue goop. This was not love; this was war.

At least I had a husband who understood how upset I was feeling. I knew he would be able to smooth out these little “communication issues” for me. Our marriage was way strong enough to handle a little home improvement.

Surprisingly, his response was less than enthusiastic. Something to the effect of “you got us into this, not me.” When we “discussed” the escalating costs, I was afraid he might slip a disc. Even the “housing bubble” card did little to appease him.

Like a soldier, I trudged on. I signed a contract with Koala Flooring down by Costco and crossed my fingers. My tile demo was a 17-day nightmare, but they never asked for an extra dime. I was cheered. They gave me carpet remnants to cover the subfloor while awaiting my new hardwood. I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I’m thinking the guys at Koala may even be up for a game of touch football.