Clever Remodeling Ideas That Deliver Long-Term ValueThe Surprising Investment of Renovating Your Whole House 99
This one stupid tap wasn't even broken. Just temperamental. You had to turn it just so and then back toward center to get non-freezing water. If you messed up the angle, it'd let out a weird sound. Not loud, but sharp — like a dying violin. I put up with it for too long. Blamed the pipes. Blamed the apartment. Blamed everything except the fact that I hadn't done anything.
One rainy evening, I was home by accident, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I am tired of this space.
It wasn't a rage fit. More like a feeling that had finally forced its way to the surface. The cutlery tray slid around, the bench was basically decorative, and the top cabinet door slammed my face every time I grabbed a bowl. I'd started to flinch early.
I pulled out a notebook and wrote “replace kitchen faucet” at the top. Beneath that: “actual counter space,” then “this wiring makes no sense” The question mark wasn't a joke. The switch really was behind the fridge.
I told myself I'd just fix that one thing. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, confused by finishes, I somehow ended up with tile samples under my arm. And then came the point of no return.
I didn't hire a pro. I probably should've. Instead, I watched a video at 1am from my friend Rory, who said, “Don't aim at anything alive.” Not exactly the comforting guidance, but I ran with it.
Taking down that ugly shelf felt like a win. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that tolerated nonsense.
The journey spiraled. Not badly, just... inevitably. I spent check here three hours googling “do I need primer?”. Got into a minor debate with a guy on a Reddit thread about epoxy grout. I still don't really understand epoxy, but I'm convinced he was full of it.
And the new tap? Still isn't silent. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've given up.
It's not perfect. The tile near the bin's crooked, and the outlet by the toaster leans left. 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, might be the real achievement.