Making a House a Home: Part IV - What's Really Important?

Drama in a drama-less remodel

Thanksgiving was a whirl of family commitments, houseguests, entertaining and trying to keep up on holiday preparations. I'd fulfilled my remodel commitments by making all my selections (appliances, knobs, lights and more). Right after Christmas I needed to box up my kitchen, family room and dining room. Every piece of furniture had to be moved into my living room and study. Construction was due to begin on January 17.

A month before I'd be sequestered upstairs along with my cat, microwave and toaster oven, I got some scary news. I might be facing a life-threatening illness. Or, or course, maybe not. Suddenly I was thrown into a maelstrom of fear and anxiety, tests and waiting amid holiday vacations and mislaid test results. I tried to stay away from Google but I succumbed. There was a tentative surgery date the last week of the month. Throughout most of December I had no idea whether I'd need to cancel the project or not.

It's amazing how a little taste of mortality will prod one into not just asking the question "what's really important" but answering it. I wondered how many more times I'd see my children. How many times I'd feel the sun on my back or sleet on my cheeks. Things came into sharp contrast. I wandered outside at night to ponder the stars and try to find my place among the cosmos. And more mundanely, I asked myself "what the hell do I do about this remodel?" I had visions of me having to climb over the cat gate at the top of the stairs in my compromised post-op condition. I wondered if it made sense to spend a ton of money like that. Surprisingly, it made me incredibly sad to turn it all off. I decided that regardless of the final diagnosis I'd keep it going. I reasoned that it would keep me going. I also reasoned that I was nuts.

At the end of the year the test that would tell me how bad it really was came back...eh, not so bad. I rejoiced! Full steam ahead! Surgery still loomed but not with the same dread.

My studio turned into a cook space. A small room with a pull-out sofa turned into my dining/living room. Huge sheets of cardboard along with a kiddy gate prevented the cat from squeezing down the stairs. Finally, Day 1 of Phase II of my kitchen remodel came. When I came downstairs that day some of the cabinets were gone and so was the wall. The transformation had begun.

Even in the murky late afternoon's winter light I
could really see how great this was going to be. 

Next:  What could possibly go wrong?: Part V - Go Time