What to Start Initially When Improving an Dated Home10 Signs It is Finally Time to Revamp Your Property 86
This one stupid tap wasn't even technically malfunctioning. Just temperamental. You had to twist it just so and then back into position to get non-freezing water. If you went too far, it'd let out a weird sound. Not deafening, but sharp — like a rusty hinge with opinions. I put up with it for years. Blamed the system. Blamed the apartment. Blamed everything except myself.
One Tuesday, I was home early, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I am tired of this space.
It wasn't a breakdown. More like a slow itch that had finally spread to my ribs. The drawers were loose, the bench was basically decorative, and the cupboard door slammed my face every time I grabbed a bowl. I'd started to brace like it was a reflex.
I pulled out a notebook and wrote “replace kitchen faucet” at the top. Beneath that: “longer bench,” then “this wiring makes no sense” The question mark wasn't a joke. The switch really was inexplicably placed.
I told myself I'd keep it simple. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, holding a tap, I somehow ended up with a brochure for splashbacks under my arm. And then came the demolition.
I didn't call a tradesperson. 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 ran with it.
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 forum about silicone gaps. I still don't really trust epoxy, but I'm convinced he was probably guessing.
And the new tap? Still isn't silent. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've made peace with it.
It's not perfect. The tile near more info the bin's crooked, and the outlet by the toaster wobbles. But when I step in, I don't brace. That alone is a win.
And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, feels good.