Michelangelo and Me: The Joys of Renovating a Victorian House
One night while I was relaxing away, likely watching some mindless video, I heard him screaming “Help” from one of our upstairs bedrooms. As I approached our stairwell I noticed water coming through our dining room ceiling and down the walls. It was a combination of fear and curiosity that forced me upstairs at lightning speed. The many questions that were circling about in my mind were quickly answered when I peeked my head through the door of the room known as the man cave. My husband’s beloved fish tank had collapsed the table underneath pouring gallon after gallon of smelly tank water through the floor boards and to the rooms below. This was not such a surprise when I later learned that the entire weight of the full tank was being held on a table with three good legs and one that’s stability was, at best, questionable. I remember hearing the light short in the room below and my husband screaming out “save the fish.” I remember thinking, get the cat.
We scooped the fish into a bucket of water, and by some aquatic miracle, a few lived. Then, once the initial excitement was over, we went to survey the damage. The electrics in our dining room were gone. That didn’t bother me as much as the large water marks that emerged on our white ceiling. Promise after promise was made to fix the problem but none ever materialized.
My husband and I split about a year later and I was left with a house in a state of disorder and the water marks as a constant reminder of what an enormous amount of work lay ahead for me. My life flat-lined for a few years; I had no social life except for a few online chat friends. I worked to pay off debt and bills but never seemed to gain any ground. Finally, in 2012, I received the kick up the backside I needed to get me going.
I don’t know much about Sweden, only that they have a fairly good history of music and a fairly strange idea of what food is. If this person has anything to go by then I can also safely say their people are brutally honest and direct. My dear Swedish man friend came to visit me one afternoon. I had mentioned to him my idea of turning my home into a boarding house to generate some extra cash. His response was “Don’t make me laugh. You’d have to pay me to live in this place.” He might have not offended me quite so much if he didn’t go into a diatribe of everything that was wrong with the place. Nearly everything from floor to ceiling had an issue attached. He tried backtracking once he saw my reaction. His attempt at an apology was met with “Just get out.”
His words did sting and I didn’t speak to him for several weeks after. However, I couldn’t deny that he was right. I knew I couldn’t work at the pace I was for much longer, so I needed extra income. Rental was a great option but no one would live in my house in the state it was in. Things had grown steadily worse over the years, and if I wanted the decline to stop, I needed to break the viscous circle I was in. Renovation was needed and that required time and money, neither of which I had much of.
My dining room is what taught me the most in terms of skills and the rules of home renovation. The first and one of the most important rules I learned was to look for the good in all the negative things that happen. When you renovate, you can almost bet that nothing will go exactly to plan. Looking for the silver lining will stop you from giving up. It may be hard to find but trust me it is there. The next and one of the most practical rules I learned is, re-claim yards are your friend. If you can find what you need second hand than get it. You’ll save a fortune. This is sad but often true, beware of what lies beneath, one job might lead to several more. Finally, you will learn who your friends really are when you ask for renovation help. Some will say no, some will make excuses, but the few who say yes are worth their weight in gold. Cherish them.
