I've been stalling. Most of the rest of the house has been renovated. After this, I'll just have one more considerably smaller project. The other rooms had been altered many times by owners before and I was mostly tearing out office-style drop ceilings and bad wall coverings, and installing mouldings to match what must have been there before. No one had really touched the kitchen though. The powder room and the closet were add-ons by some do-it-yourselfer of yesteryear. There were several layers of flooring and wallpaper, but previous efforts had been cosmetic.
There is nothing "surface" about what I've already done.
People called me crazy. Many told me that they could never do what I've done. Everyone believes that I've taken on more than I can handle. Even me.
I'd like to tell you that demo feels good. And I suppose that it does at times, but mostly this has been a cycle of fear, feeling overwhelmed, perseverance, getting reassurance, and digging in again. I am in no way qualified to tackle this project! But I can't afford to have it all done for me, nor can I go it alone. So I got help - professional help. (at long last!) A very competent contractor, plumber, electrician, carpenters, drywall hangers, and a tile expert. The tasks that terrify or baffle me are commonplace for them. We are a team. And we will get this done. Together.
Sometimes, there are little surprises along the way. Little things that keep us engaged - committed to completing the work ahead. This week, we found a card behind a baseboard. From a laundry - in 1927. Our own tiny archaeological treasure.
As it happens, I've finally started the process of putting stuff back in the kitchen. Last week, it was the floor. I can no longer stand in the kitchen and see into the basement through old pipe holes. I can walk in there with bare feet, at least until work starts up again. It's a start and I'll take it.
I like to think that I got my "fuck it, let's do this" attitude from my mother. I've seen her take a circular saw to a wall to make a pass-through from the kitchen. She and my stepdad sailed around the Caribbean, vising new places, gaining experience and new friends along the way. They built their own shelter on an island in Panama. She certainly has a few large endeavors under her belt. She's currently assisting her husband through cancer treatments, having managed their relocation back to the U.S. practically overnight. No doubt she often feels overwhelmed, afraid, unqualified, and yet she perseveres because she has to. What is the other choice?
She's not the only one, I'm afraid. So many others face seemingly insurmountable obstacles - tasks so large as to seem impossible. An unexpected diagnosis, a reduction in force, an accident, a crime, a disaster. Just this morning, many neighbors in Ellicott City woke to devastation from flash flooding last night. The photos are mind boggling. It would be easy to quit in despair, after all, these situations are clearly too much for one person to handle. But none of us - no one - is alone. We are among professional help everyday. They are our family, our friends, our colleagues, our friends. Sometimes they are our doctors, our nurses, our counselors, our confidantes. Each of us carries our own unique experiences, our own expertise. Be sure to share it when the need arises. Be generous if you can. So many are plugging away at a task too large for them, one baseboard at a time.
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