The Money Pit

NYE looms large in the legend of The Money Pit. Rush signed papers at the closing

Kitchen 2010

to buy the house on the eve of 2010. Later that night a small handful of close friends, clad in parkas, gloves and scarves, bravely gathered for a brief toast, our breath hanging visible in the den’s frigid air as we looked forward to a future party in the soon-to-be-restored home.

On the eve of 2011, although still unfinished, The Money Pit had come a long way. Scores of friends filled the otherwise empty spaces. Heat

Kitchen 2011 with make-do appliances and yet another cabinet color that we hated

and air, electricity, appliances, plumbing, new tile, refinished hardwood, repaired plaster, fresh paint and too many other projects to list had been completed in that year, and the lack of furniture did nothing to dampen our New Year’s spirits.

And just last weekend we ushered in 2012 with friends and neighbors in what finally felt more like a home than a project. An almost completed kitchen, half bath and dining room, furniture in every room, a fully decorated Christmas tree and stockings hung under a new mirror on the mantel, all made the event far cozier this year. And only once in the preparations for the party did I scream, “It’s at the other house!” in reference to a large baking dish. Otherwise, everything we needed was right at hand. Progress indeed.

Kitchen 2012 with tile countertops, cabinet color we actually like, and new tulip light fixtures

So New Year’s Eve remains an important date in the life of The Money Pit. Without such markers, it is easy to feel like nothing is getting accomplished. During such a big project with so many details to juggle, the successes somehow manage to get lost in the shuffle.

For Rush and me, 2012 holds the promise of completion. We hope to finish all the almost-but-not-quite-done projects—handles on cabinets, caulk on countertops, siding on the magic shed, paint and caulk on interior trim and doors, sealer on the sanded dining room walls, glass and the last bit of tile in the master shower, and mud, paint and shelves for the closets upstairs. The only interior project left to begin from scratch is an entertainment center for the den, but that may not make it to the top of the to-do list this year. If not, we’ll just be wonderfully content to spend 2012 checking off all the projects begun in 2010 and ’11.

To all our DIY friends out there—may all your 2012 projects come in under budget and ahead of schedule. Happy New Year everybody!!

Arch between kitchen and laundry in progress

Finished archway

Rush designed and built a new cabinet for a blank wall in the kitchen

Finished built-in with lead-glass doors, tile counter and tin backsplash

We Southerners are quite familiar with the Jeff Foxworthy skit “You might be a redneck if …” My favorite answer is: “you stared hard at an orange juice can because it said ‘concentrate’.”

I decided to put my own twist on Foxworthy’s idea. By the way, folks, this isn’t comedy. This is my reality.

You might be a DIYer if …

• you have to move a reciprocating saw to do laundry.
• your kitchen resides in the dining room, consists of a microwave and a toaster oven, and you have to move an extension cord to use one or the other.
• you have ever cursed at tin snips. And meant it!
• you have ever washed dishes in the half-bath pedestal sink. (Kids, don’t try this at home.)
• you’ve ever played the game If I Were a Loaf of Bread, Where Would I Be? and eaten a stale hamburger bun instead.
• you toss and turn all night from the intense pressure of choosing paint colors.
• you have to relocate the kitchen utensil drawer before you can sit down in the living room.

And my personal favorite:

• you call dinner at Chick-fil-A and a trip to Home Depot date night.

Rush has been hard at work all week on the kitchen. I can’t wait to start painting and tiling—WHO SAID THAT?!?!?!

When it’s finished (hopefully this weekend), we’ll have a new floor-to-ceiling built-in, a nice arch over the sink, new light fixtures, a completed back splash, an arched doorway to the back entry, a sturdier floor, under cabinet lighting, drawers that open and close without difficulty, a smooth ceiling sans nail divots, and fresh paint on pretty much every surface. It should look like a completely different kitchen, which will make the temporary DIY lifestyle we are currently enduring, oh so worth it in the end!

Photos to come!

When Rush and I first started dating, he repeatedly offered to help my friends and me with projects around our houses. He ALWAYS had the right tools and supplies, and they always came from the same place—his shed. No matter what you needed, the shed had it, thus earning it the honorary moniker, The Magic Shed.

When we started work on The Money Pit, most of the tools from The Magic Shed (which resided in the country, half an hour outside town) made their way into the attic for “easy” access. They didn’t stay there, however. Our intense disdain for trekking up and down stairs (far too much like exercise) led to construction materials strewn, stem to stern, throughout the house. The disarray did not pose a problem … until we moved in.

We cleaned up for the New Year’s Eve party, dragging load after load of construction materials and tools up the stairs and into the walk-in attic space. The house felt like a home for the first time. It was great!

After the holidays, when we returned to restoration work, we smartly designated an area in the den floor for more convenient, “temporary” tool storage.

Great idea—poorly executed. Within a couple months our make-shift tool-land was indistinguishable from the rest of the house, and tools and supplies once again infiltrated the entire Money Pit. Like specialized, DIY hoarders, we found ourselves relegated to narrow paths through the house that led to the bed, the kitchen, one bathroom, and the back door.

One day in March, Rush lost it. We were playing our millionth round of Marco-Polo amidst the mess when he bellowed, “I know I said we weren’t going to stop working on the interior of this house until it was done, but I CAN”T LIVE LIKE THIS ANOTHER DAY!!”

At first we hoped a moving company could get the shed up the driveway, but the grade proved too steep, so a determined, if not a little crazed, Rush painstakingly removed the shed’s siding and roof, deconstructed the walls, divided the floor into manageable sections and drove the disassembled Magic Shed up the driveway.

After weeks of re-assembly, although still lacking siding, The Magic Shed now stands proudly in the back corner of our yard, and tool-land has been permanently evicted from The Money Pit. Alas, we will never be invited to star in an episode of Hoarders, but on a positive note, Rush can’t quit grinning.