Int his economy and being realistic on what you could sell your home for, it doesn't make sense to spend a lot of money. And I think people think if they throw down $10,000 on a bathroom that they are always going to see a return on their money. You might.... but assume you won't. That's my theory. Mostly because I don't have the cash to be throwing around.
But we've lived in our house for six years. We've done a lot to the house (added a bedroom and a dining room, gutted and replaced the ghetto bathroom which only highlight was that we had a garden hose for a shower, and made a larger storage closet upstairs utilizing wasted space), but we have a lot more to go. (No, the laundry room hasn't been touched.) But that brings me to this weekend. On Friday night, while watching a marathon of HGTV (which FYI? Needs to come off the air because it makes DIY-talentless people wield hammers and crowbars when they have no business doing such a thing.), that my living room looks like shit. The walls are cracked, full of weird holes, the weirdo putty shoved into a large hole for no reason (it was there when we moved in), the stairs make awful noises, but mostly? I feel like it wouldn't look like shit if we put some baseboards in, patched the walls (since all four walls had a different size baseboard), painted and put some new carpet in. Mostly because the carpet has an unfortunate smell that I just can't fix anymore. And it all started after I realized that brown walls (though I love this brown a LOT), brown furniture, and brown carpet make me feel like I live in a cardboard box. Except an expensive one.
Now, on Saturday night Matt said that he's happy to help, but that I would have to learn how to do some shit myself because he's not a work horse. (I know, I laughed at that too... it's so sad when dementia hits a person so young.) So I had to learn how to prep a wall for drywall compound or whatever that white stuff is. But guess what? Sanding sucks shit. I got it done though, and he showed me how to apply the white stuff and I have no interest in that.
On Sunday- I went to Home Depot and got us a drywall sanding block because according to HGTV, it's easier to use than sand paper. (Ladies- if your husband hands you sandpaper? Shove it up his ass and get a really snazzy sanding block.) While Matt was skiing, I decided that I was going to sand that drywalll stuff down and take it upon myself to rip up the rest of the baseboards.
Lesson number one is to never let me have a hammer. Or a crow bar. And especially don't let me have the two together because I will make large holes where baseboards should be. After making two fairly large holes that were beyond a "patch job" I decided I should just let Matt do it.
When Matt came home he laughed at me and said was an idiot. I'll take that because I did knock two holes into the wall. When Matt went to look at the wall he discovered a "small room" (his words) and said he was going to the garage. When he came back I was putting laundry away upstairs when I hear a power tool start up. And come down to see this:
And you remember that time I bitched the entire summer about our backyard looking like a home remodel nightmare gone bad? And then Matt was awesome and cleaned it? We've regressed.
So. We now have a hole in the wall, and we can't make the opening and wider because there is a support beam right along the edge of where Matt cut. We have two options: 1. is to repair the wall like we never opened it up. 2. make the cubby some kind of storage (books and movies?), put trim around the door and have it be a weird thing in our living room. Any ideas on what you would do? Have any of you encountered such a thing?
Basically, what turned into a maybe $250 job with new baseboards, paint, trim, etc has grown to a bit more of an undertaking. Let's not even talk about the carpet which is grosser than I feared. I discovered while cleaning up sanding mess with the shop vac that the carpet is actually not attached to the floor. And the best part? When lifting up the carpet to clean out what I could, I found a used condom. That wasn't ours. YAY.