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handyman's special
Feb. 4th, 2008 06:33 pmMy parents came over to my house this weekend; we've been in this crazy Catch-22 situation wherein they can't visit me because the dog wants to kill them, but then the dog only wants to kill them because they don't visit often enough for him to get to know and accept them. And so they're trying to stop by more often, in hopes that one day my dog will stop leaping at my father's throat on sight.
That day was not yesterday. They dropped by and after about two minutes I put Leory in the guest room and we walked through the house talking about some of the things I want to do to it, and eventually an uncomfortable realization dawned on me. Which was this: all my adult life, I've been pretty good about fitting my stuff into a given (rental) space, making it look cozy and lived-in and inviting. But now, faced with this blank slate where I can do absolutely anything my heart desires as long as I have the money to afford it, I'm completely paralyzed.
Well, maybe not completely paralyzed. I'm slowly making decisions about things, colors and styles, trying to keep things affordable, trying to fit everything together, trying to make certain I'm capable of doing the work myself as much as possible. It's like putting together a giant 1750-sq-ft puzzle, for me, but one of those tricky puzzles where the pieces are alike enough that you might get 85% finished only to discover that you did something horribly wrong way back at 15%. So I second-guess myself and backtrack and get all frustrated, and I'm never sure how everything's going to work together, and I walk my parents through my house dithering about every conceivable detail, while they are no doubt thinking, Jesus Christ, kid, just get on with it already.
On the other hand, I'm kind of enjoying the ride, too; so who knows how long it'll actually be before I get started on the laundry room (the next thing on my project list)? Using my awesome powers of divination, I predict that I'll still be working on this at age 60.
( more house stuff this way! )
That day was not yesterday. They dropped by and after about two minutes I put Leory in the guest room and we walked through the house talking about some of the things I want to do to it, and eventually an uncomfortable realization dawned on me. Which was this: all my adult life, I've been pretty good about fitting my stuff into a given (rental) space, making it look cozy and lived-in and inviting. But now, faced with this blank slate where I can do absolutely anything my heart desires as long as I have the money to afford it, I'm completely paralyzed.
Well, maybe not completely paralyzed. I'm slowly making decisions about things, colors and styles, trying to keep things affordable, trying to fit everything together, trying to make certain I'm capable of doing the work myself as much as possible. It's like putting together a giant 1750-sq-ft puzzle, for me, but one of those tricky puzzles where the pieces are alike enough that you might get 85% finished only to discover that you did something horribly wrong way back at 15%. So I second-guess myself and backtrack and get all frustrated, and I'm never sure how everything's going to work together, and I walk my parents through my house dithering about every conceivable detail, while they are no doubt thinking, Jesus Christ, kid, just get on with it already.
On the other hand, I'm kind of enjoying the ride, too; so who knows how long it'll actually be before I get started on the laundry room (the next thing on my project list)? Using my awesome powers of divination, I predict that I'll still be working on this at age 60.
( more house stuff this way! )
