Alicia McKay
I've had a hell of a time with my house lately. After an initial few years of primarily uneventful occupation, she's turned on me in the last couple of years. Things keep exploding, wearing out, getting tired and breaking down. It's expensive, exhausting and a source of constant stress.
Part of the issue I've discovered in the last few weeks is dodgy plumbing. She was set up to fail from the beginning. The house was cold-plumbed in DuxQuest - a product that started failing almost as soon as it was installed in the late 80s and early 90s and was pulled from the market in haste. This pipework, despite its inferior quality, has held up admirably. But it's finally reached its limit and started busting leaks left, right, and centre, destroying my ceilings.
My house was born the same year I was, and I can't help but see the similarities. The first 30 or so years went alright. Wear, tear and drama were absorbed, and we rocked on regardless. But eventually, we reached a tipping point. The load got too big to carry, and things started to break down. The dodgy construction finally revealed itself, and while we'd done pretty bloody well considering, it all started to catch up as we hit our mid-30s. The consequences couldn't be escaped forever.
I have a lot of sympathy for her - I get it. But I'm sick of her sh*t. I imagine my friends and family have felt similarly about me in the last few years. With one drama after another, I've had to patch things up and fix things as they appeared, and I'm in what feels like a perpetual state of reconstruction.
Whether you, your life, your career, your relationship, or your work had a handicapped start or not, you might find something similar happening to you eventually. Wear and tear takes its toll. The shiny, bright start of any idea, job or marriage dulls over time, and you realise that if you're in it for the long haul, you will have to do some work.
Renovation is fun at two points: the beginning, where you set your intentions and pick things out, and the end, when it's all done. The in-between part is expensive, messy, annoying, and feels like it will never be done. It's what Brene Brown calls the messy middle.
Anything worth doing for the long haul will require renovation at some point. Life, home ownership, a fulfilling career, a meaningful relationship, and anything else worth having don't promise smooth sailing. We would all benefit from treating ourselves a bit like our homes: keep a maintenance budget, expect things to go bust occasionally, and cross our fingers the equity we're building in the long term makes it all worth it.
Til next week,
A
Bonus pic: I have awful old UV film on all my windows. It was a good idea in 1988, but it's now discoloured, hazy and ugly. I've started the onerous job of scraping it all off, but I Googled for a way to do it faster last week. The internet suggested using a heat gun, so I went to Bunnings and dropped $43 on a hand-held steam machine.
After 5 minutes of trying it out, here was the result. Not all renovation attempts make things better; some make them worse. Happy renovating, everyone.
