Now that I’m finally in the last stage of the big home renovation project—the project that (with the help of the pandemic) upended my life for over three years—I’m wondering what I’ve learned from all of this. I know it’s changed me, but how will it change my fiction? I decided to sit down and make a list the lessons learned during this process. I sincerely hope that some of the better ones will stick with me and, perhaps, improve my storytelling.
One, when people say “things just work themselves out” what they mean is that YOU get that task done, you hire someone else to do it, or you change your plans so that the task is no longer required.
Two, ask for help sooner rather than later. When I know that I’m overwhelmed, confused, and starting to overheat with anxiety, I’ve found that asking for assistance before I have a meltdown saves time and makes life happier.
Three, calendars and deadlines are amorphous. I was brought up to arrive on time for appointments and, as a freelance writer, I never miss deadlines. The cliché about renovations taking longer than planned is not a joke. It’s as if the calendar that contracting companies use has extra days, weeks, and months built into it. Delays are the norm, not the exception. Not one tiny task on the long list was done on time. Not one!
Four, take a walk. Yes, take a walk! Get outside and out of the situation. It works. The change of scene creates a change of mind and a new perspective. Often, the time spent away invites a new approach or a new solution. This is part of my writing process, and it landed squarely in my renovations!
Five is a big one. Be prepared to accept, embrace, even love Plan B (Plan C, D, E, F…) because the initial plan is unlikely to be where you land. We got close to Plan Z a few times and I was preparing myself to use the Greek alphabet, mimicking the way the NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) finds hurricane names in a season with more than 26 storms.
I already know that my love of precision in language has been challenged by communications with the project manager, architects, and everyone else involved. In my quest to reduce these problems during the last phase I’ve taken to repeating back EVERYTHING as if I’m confused. “It’s Okay,” is no longer sufficient as I learned again last week when “It’s Okay (to move the toilet temporarily to change the access panel) was misconstrued into, “It’s Okay to not replace the access panel.” I also send as many “confirmation” text messages as my dermatologist’s office. Going to send a few now, to make sure that the last few things are really getting done this week!
I’m glad you made it through to the other side. Completion always feels so great! I’m still contemplating building a tiny house. Time will tell.
I’ve learned so much!
The process has been awful and the pandemic as a backdrop is especially awful. If/when you build your tiny house, be careful about who you hire and then go for it. I have a great architect team—a married couple with individual areas of specialization. My mistake was in hiring the contracting company… oh my … It’s almost the end of this story and I want to get back to feeling like myself and focusing on WRITING!
Has it really been three years? -gulp- I’m amazed you’re still sane. Do you have a move-in date yet? And how are the cats coping?
The one good thing about experiences like these is that you’ll be mining them for your writing for decades to come. 🙂
I moved in on May 11——when it was still a construction site. The toilet was installed, the shower was installed (but not the shower door), the kitchen appliances were on site but not installed, … basically, everyone thought I was nuts but I was on my way to selling the small apartment and I knew that the crew would move faster if there were two anxious black cats and a sleep deprived woman on site every day. Did it work? Did they go faster? I think so, but there were still mistakes and re-dos and this incredible level of confusion. Just a few last touches to go! YAY!
As soon as the men stopped coming every morning the cats became HAPPY! They can handle normal visitors, but not men with noisy machines, loud voices, bad taste in music (really, I’m with the cats on this), and the general agitation that comes with construction. They were always yelling, arguing, bickering… So for the last month or so—since we’ve been in the final “punch list” phase with limited visits usually one carpenter or just the project manager, the cats think they live in paradise and I agree. They do!
The place is beautiful. There’s one more window that needs curtains and some boxes that need to be sorted and possibly stored. I’ll start hanging ART on the walls soon. That’s when it will be my paradise, too.