When Stephen and I were planning the renovation, we reassured ourselves that it wasn’t ‘that big of a deal,’ really just ‘a kitchen and a few bathrooms,’ along with redoing the floors and replacing the molding and all of the hollow-core doors (and ugly brass doorknobs) and so on, etc. etc. You know: mostly ‘cosmetic stuff.’ Which is true in a way, but certainly didn’t convey the amount of work required (and which is quite apparent now that we are into it) to get to the finish line. This kind of self-delusion is often necessary at the beginning of projects, and not just the construction variety (writing novels is another that comes to mind!), otherwise you would never get started.
Nevertheless, progress is being made; this wall is where the kitchen cabinets will go, and all of the necessary plumbing and electricity has been reconfigured.
The contractor also hung most of the new closet and bathroom doors, which even unpainted feel like a big improvement, as well as the bedroom doors, which have single panels of opaque glass, so the door can be shut while allowing natural light to chase away the gloom from the hallways of what is effectively a long, narrow townhouse. I remember an episode of ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ where the designer talked about how ‘gays must have frosted glass,’ and despite a small reservation about adhering to a stereotype (lol), there’s no denying the effect.
For example: this door faces south.
A slightly wider molding has also been installed around the closet doors, another small change that for whatever reason makes it easier to breathe in the house. (Obviously none of this has been finished/painted/etc.)
The bathrooms have largely been dismantled too, and we’re just waiting for the tile to arrive before putting them back together. (‘We’ being the contractor, obv.)
Meanwhile, nearby, the world’s slowest construction project continues to crawl forward on whatever form of life-support it’s maintained. (But at least it hasn’t been abandoned like so many other sites around the city.)
Inside it’s a mess, but there’s something almost edifying in not only ripping out the old and ugly and replacing it with the new and clean, but also taking part in the endless transformation of the city as it evolves into something new and — let’s hope — better. It also serves as a reminder (or perhaps a symbol) of what we can sometimes hope to achieve in our own lives, where change requires a lot of hard work, but can also offer beautiful results.
