Starting Over

A little over four years ago, my husband and I closed on a house near the University of Houston’s main campus. It was not my dream home, but my husband seemed determined to have the house, and so I agreed. 

 I thought we were paying too much, and I had concerns about the condition of the house, particularly given the price tag. 

 I wasn’t crazy about the layout, or the fact that the house backed up to a parking lot for the university.

But the house was close to the Metro Rail, so my husband could take the train to work. And the neighborhood was – and still is – vibrant and diverse, with a blend of ethnicities, ages, and religions that we found appealing.

It was not a good time for me to be buying a house, emotionally. I was entering a period of serious depression due to many factors. I was struggling with the fact that I was newly declared legally disabled. I had always been so proud of my ability to support myself, but my body had other plans, and I was in a downward spiral, health-wise. There were stretches of days when it was all I could do to drag myself out of bed to get a glass of water. Eventually, I became suicidally depressed.

I had no self confidence, and – feeling that I shouldn’t have as much of a say in how we spent our money as the spouse who was making most of it – I decided that my husband should get the house he wanted.

So we bought the house. Almost immediately, I regretted it.

We had to have the house rewired, and it took forever. Everything we hired a contractor to do, they somehow bungled. I was a constant wreck, my nerves shattered from medication, illness, constant battles with the contractors I had to deal with while my husband was at work.

Almost from the day we moved in, I hated the house. I wanted out.

About two years ago, I told my husband I didn’t like the house and probably never would. I didn’t feel that we should invest more money into a house with the location issues ours had, and wanted to move somewhere else. Every time something good would happen to us, the house would find some way to muck things up: the air conditioner would die and need replacing, the hot water heater would break, or we would find out that the previous owner had simply covered up the tile flooring that they suspected contained asbestos, rather than getting it tested so they could disclose that information. (Spoiler: we got it tested, and it contains asbestos.)

We put an enormous amount of money and time into the house. My husband stripped every bit of millwork in the house (except for the kitchen cabinets) and repainted it. We had the floors refinished from their hideous 1970s golden oak to a beautifully mellow sandy hue. I personally installed the custom door hardware with polished brass rosettes that set off their black porcelain knobs. Custom window shades were ordered for the enormous bay window in the living room, and my husband and father installed them the same day they replaced the front door, which I’d painted a bright cheery red.

But I still hated the house, mostly for its associations with the dark time I experienced right after we moved in. At one point, my therapist jokingly promised not to tell the police if I confessed to her that I’d burned the place to the ground.

On December 21, 2020, my husband came home from work and announced that he wanted to move. He wanted to sell the house, and find somewhere else to live. He wanted it to happen as soon as possible. He declared that he was sure the house was cursed. He’d learned that the University was planning to build a new building directly behind our house, along with two parking garages. The Metro Rail’s nearest crossing was getting a bar that would lower and ding-ding-ding while the trains went by. And he didn’t want to put more money into a house that we were already in over our heads on. I asked him if he wanted me to find someone to buy it, and he said, “Yes.” “When?” “As soon as possible. I want to start 2021 in a new place.”

So I found someone to buy the house from us, in cash. It was literally one of those “We Buy Ugly Houses” companies, with the billboards featuring a caveman. Their offer was less than we might have received trying to sell through a realtor, but there were no realtor fees (the buyer is a licensed realtor); the buyer paid the title fees; and there was no waiting around for potential buyers, no negotiating with them. The buyer’s offer exactly paid off our mortgage.

On January 22, 2021, we moved into an apartment. We’re spend 2021 paying less in rent, utilities, and insurance combined than we’ve been paying every month on our mortgage, and will be able to save up more money as a result. Our savings are healthy – we lived particularly frugally during the height of the pandemic – and we figure we’ll be able to buy a new house, and make a new start, six months from now.

It has been an adjustment. We moved from 1,500 square feet into about 1,100 square feet. We have to walk our dog, Ginger, multiple times every day (though the apartment complex has a large off-leash Bark Park, Ginger prefers not to share it with other pups). A lot of our things are in an off-site, climate controlled storage facility. 

BUT, I no longer spend thirty minutes circling the neighborhood in ever-tightening spirals after running errands, sobbing as I drive, because I don’t want to go back to that house. To me, it was never a home, but just “that house.”

Though we still have about six months to go before we’re ready to buy a new place, we’ve begun touring neighborhoods, discussing whether we want to buy a fixer-upper or something that will just require some tweaking (for example, new kitchen tile and interior paint). We’re debating the merits of townhouses with small yards versus more “Houston traditional” houses with large yards. I’m checking every home address against the Houston flood maps to see where they lie in relation to floodplains, and scouring listings for those magic words: “NEVER FLOODED.”

My self-confidence has improved, my mental health has improved, and I am very vocal about our real estate decisions, now. And we’re communicating about our expectations and desires, which we’ve learned is absolutely crucial. I know it’s still several months away, but I can’t wait to see what 2022 has in store for us.

The Fun Never Stops

I haven’t written in a while.

A very long while.

A lot has happened in our little house, since my last writing. We now have club chairs. We have a wall of artwork in our stairwell. We have a rug in our living room, and a table lamp, and all sorts of things that were missing, as of my last post.

There are still no dining room chairs, however. It’s the only excuse I have to get out of hosting Christmas and Thanksgiving. Hah!

We’ve had grand plans for the house, and intended to start on them in February or March.

We were going to buy a king-size bed, so we could both sleep comfortably. We were going to add lighting and a legit stair rail to the stairs, so I wouldn’t repeat last year’s tumble and concussion, when the wall of our landing “broke my fall” via my head. We were going to enclose and renovate our master bedroom, which is currently open to the living room below, and renovate the master bathroom, too, because it’s hideous. We were going to enlarge our closets, because they’re tiny, useless cubby holes under a sloping roof. We were going to take in some of the attic space and add a skylight so I could have my own little study/migraine room for when I need to get up in the night time, so I wouldn’t have to go down the stairs.

I had everything priced out, down to which knobs would be on the kitchen cabinets, and which toilet seat we’d be opting for (one with a built-in bidet), and which closet system we’d install.

Then my husband pointed out to me that the ceiling above our kitchen – and below our master bathroom – seems to be sagging, at approximately the location of the bathroom wall, above.

We decided to call an engineer, just to make sure everything was okay before we proceeded with the renovation.

And all hell broke loose.

The floor joists supporting our master bedroom aren’t sufficient to support… anything, really, except a ceiling. The structure above the kitchen is messed up, somehow, but we won’t know exactly how unless we rip out the ceiling in the kitchen. We need a beam across the opening between the kitchen and the dining room, because whoever renovated back in the 1960s or 1970s tore out a bearing wall there, and didn’t put in a proper beam, so there’s nothing supporting the exterior wall of our master bathroom, above. (Hopefully, this makes sense to non-building professionals.)

TLDR: We’re screwed.

I brought in a contractor, anyway, to talk through what we would have to do to renovate, and he informed me that we’d have to do the kitchen and the master suite all at once, and the ceiling in our living room would either have to drop, or we’d have to have exposed beams in the living room.

We have 8’-5” ceilings (because construction in 1955 wasn’t as standardized as it is today), and we’re talking dropping down to 7’-10”.

Nope.

I called another contractor to get his opinion, and his opinion was vastly different. He said that a bank would be unlikely to loan us the extra money for renovations that wouldn’t add square footage and possibly wouldn’t get us the desired return on the house (a serious concern of mine). He suggested ripping off the roof and the master bedroom altogether and just building a second story. It would add about 600 square feet to the house, and would vastly increase the value of the home.

But we don’t know if our foundation can support that much weight, because adding walls AND a roof to a house that is obviously under-engineered already is a terrible idea.

As an alternative, he suggested building a new foundation off the back of the kitchen, expanding the kitchen and rebuilding the screened porch, and building a new master suite over that, plus beefing up the structure (which he said wouldn’t require beams and dropping the ceiling, though the floor level of the upstairs would raise slightly, so there would be a slightly lower ceiling upstairs). Our current master bedroom would become my migraine room, and we’d go from being a 3-bedroom, 2-bath house to a 4-bedroom, 3-bath house, which would vastly increase its market value.

I suggested to my husband trying to sell for the value of our current mortgage, and just buying a different house, rather than putting $150,000+ into a renovation on this one, plus the cost of renting an apartment for 6 months while the work is performed.

He wasn’t a fan of that idea.

After some discussions about the house, we’ve come to a conclusion: Everything will be put on hold.

We don’t want to take out a loan for the entirety of the cost of renovation and addition, so we’ll have to save up for a couple of years to make that happen, regardless. We’re just going to wait and see. In two years, when we’ve saved up the amount we hope for, we can decide if we really want to invest more money in the house, or if we want to buy a newer patio home somewhere nearby.

In the meantime, we’re buying an inexpensive platform bed and a king-size mattress. We’re going to paint the master bedroom a cheerful shade of white – it’s currently a hideous yellowish beige that’s dark and depressing – and I took advantage of a bedding sale at Target to buy pretty and affordable linens. We’ll install a stop-gap handrail and motion-sensor light in the stairs so I won’t be in mortal peril going downstairs in the middle of the night when I have a migraine and need to move to a different bed to writhe around in agony.

And I’ll try not to have a panic attack about the house, every week. (I’m not exaggerating. The uncertainty of everything has been incredibly stressful, for me. Hello, Klonopin!)

And we’ll live with the house we have.

For now.

In the Home Stretch

We have now lived in our "new house" for 9 months, and we are so close to getting everything put together.

"Everything" is relative, of course. We have no dining chairs, and no club chairs in the living room. My husband's office is sans desk, right now, and also desk chair, lamps, bookshelves and filing cabinets. Some of these deficiencies will be rectified when my husband gets his bonus in April - "when you get your bonus" has taken on an almost mystical quality, at this point - but others will wait a while longer.

My husband and I decided to go ahead and have the floors refinished before "bonus day", because having the fake fireplace removed left a gaping hole in the floor. And the idea of moving furniture in, and then having to move it back out to have the floors redone later, did not appeal to either of us.

We got in touch with a local flooring contractor, and decided he was our guy (partly because nobody else would call us back, following Hurricane Harvey and the construction boom it caused, and partly because we chatted about what an amazing biographer Ron Chernow is while he measured the house). Initially, we were supposed to have our floors refinished two weeks before Christmas.

But...

Given all the work from Harvey, the flooring contractor had to bump our date back, and he was going to start 4 days before Christmas.

Four days.

Four days when we would have to have the dogs boarded somewhere, and we would have to stay in a hotel, all while dealing with the holidays. And there were no vacancies at our preferred boarding places. And no hotels that would accept two humans and two dogs during that time. Four days before Christmas was obviously a "no-go", especially since we were celebrating in Houston with family from out of town.

Our flooring contractor was elated when I asked if we could postpone things until after New Year's Day.

The only problem was that we found out our start date was being pushed back after we'd dragged my brother-in-law over to the house to move all the furniture outside.

We did the best we could with the mattress from our guest room on the living room floor, serving as a sofa, for almost a month. I'm sure our neighbors think we're strange, or were convinced we'd rented the place out to college students, given the sudden downgrade in seating.

Did I mention our 44" wide dining table had been placed in our kitchen, where the space between the countertops is 54" wide? And that the dining table is almost as long as the kitchen? No?

I should have mentioned that.

We are now some of DoorDash's favorite customers, and now that things are relatively back to normal (and our dining table is out of the kitchen) I daily expect our delivery guy to drop by to make sure we haven't died.

Prior to the refinish, our floors were a lovely shade of 1980s golden-oak (a.k.a. orange), with some areas that had experienced spills which removed all the finish from the surface, exposing the bare wood beneath.

I was not too fond of them.

We had our floors refinished to a beautiful strawberry-blonde color, since the floors are red oak, interspersed with white oak.

The "media center" is temporary, a holdover from my first apartment 15 years ago. The front drawers are goldenrod fiberglass flecked with gold threads, which unfortunately don't show up well in this picture!

I love love love the color (half Dura-Seal "neutral" and half Dura-Seal "Cottage White", if you're wondering). My husband loves the color (and loves that I'm happy with the color).

There's just one problem.

There is a streak in the floor, about 8 feet long and 1/8" wide, as if someone's shoelace dragged through the finish before it had completely cured. It's visible from the dining room, though almost invisible when you're standing in the living room. It isn't in a location where we intend to put a rug, because it's right down the middle of the path of travel between the staircase and the dining room.

We initially thought we could live with it, mostly because we're just tired of "camping out" in our house.

But we ultimately decided to have it fixed. Which means the dogs will have to be boarded (again), right after returning from Dallas, where they stayed with my endlessly patient mother. They'll get to have an afternoon at the house today (Thursday, January 18) before they go to our boarding-place of choice, tomorrow (Friday, January 19).

I feel like the worst "dog mom" ever.

But our dogs will come home (Monday) to beautiful floors, and an unobstructed view out the front windows, at least until 8 weeks after "Bonus Day."

They are also coming home to a house without water, because our exterior water main burst, at some point in the past 72 hours, and our pest control guy alerted me to it around noon. I have purchased bottled water for "plumbing" purposes, and my mother will have to stay at my sister's house for tonight, at least (though I'm sure she won't mind seeing her non-dog grandchildren).

Also, after the days of freezing weather we've had, I returned home from buying the bottled water to find that we'd won the emergency trash pickup lottery, but hadn't put our trash out. I sprinted down the driveway with an overflowing trash can, and decided afterwards that a medicinal glass of muscato was in order.

I mean, there's no water to the house, right? Got to stay hydrated somehow.

Home Is Where the Construction Is

This past Monday, our contractor's demolition team showed up bright and early to begin ripping out walls. We're in the process of turning three small closets into one small-ish laundry room, but one that will pack an efficient punch. Prior to Monday, the ground floor of our home looked like this:

Lots of small, inefficient closets grouped around the downstairs bathroom, and no laundry facilities. Desperate for clean underwear, but it's raining outside? Too bad! You have to run outside in the rain to get to the washer and dryer located in a small lean-to next to the garage apartment.

Also, the fake fireplace in our living room is gone, which is very exciting! Although I'll have to find a new piece of furniture to hold the TV, once everything is put back together.

Once the construction is completed, the floor plan will look like this:

The top blue rectangle is where our stacking washer and dryer will reside, and the blue rectangle on the left is the cabinetry that will house our dog food container, laundry supplies, and (possibly) household cleansers. 

My hairdresser thinks I'm nuts for ripping out 3 closets, but she doesn't have to go outside in the rain to wash underwear.

When I last wrote, I mentioned that our initial bid for the project seemed high, and that we had a second contractor coming to give us a quote. His bid was even higher, but we ended up going with the highest bidder, for multiple reasons. Namely, his estimate was itemized, whereas the first bidder just dashed off some approximations, which meant he could potentially tack on tons of "change orders" and claim we didn't tell him about them previously. Also, the higher bid included a building permit, but the first bidder didn't mention that. We need a permit for the project, because we're dealing with plumbing - both for water and gas lines - and lots of electricity.

As for my lighting quandary, I ended up with one of each of the fixtures I noted in my last entry: the bell-shaped fixture from CB2 will go in the laundry room itself, while the gilded acanthus leaf fixture from PBTeen will be in the hallway. 

And I still might order the Hogwarts fixture, for the day down the road when our attic becomes my migraine sanctuary, which would be appropriate, given the number of times Harry Potter has helped me through bouts of poor health.

You Light Up My Life

This past Sunday, a contractor came to our house to give us an estimate for turning our three closets into a laundry room.

It was a bit more than I expected, but that's why we have another contractor coming to give us an estimate this coming Thursday, as well.

For now, I'm emailing my sister and mother, desperate for help in selecting light fixtures for the laundry room, as well as the hall immediately outside the laundry room. The current hall fixture is old, and makes an unsettling buzzing noise when turned on. It probably needs to be rewired, but I'd rather have a more modern fixture than the frosted glass mid-century traditional light the house came with.

The cabinets we're putting into the laundry room are IKEA, because custom cabinets in a tiny laundry room don't make financial sense.



So I'm trying to decide if I want to coordinate with the dining room fixture...

Like so:

Or if I want to use more casual lighting.



And then, of course, there's the Harry Potter collection at Pottery Barn Teen, with their bronze-finish Hogwarts pendant lamp, which I think could be amazing.

Anywhere.

No, I'm not kidding.

Please don't hate me.

Designing Woman

We've been in our home for almost six months, now, and it is slowly coming together.

The living room and dining room are both painted (Walls: Benjamin Moore's Distant Gray; Trim: BM Wedding Veil), and the vintage Chin Hua dining table I ordered six weeks ago is now happily ensconced in our dining room. With the exception of a random chair from the now defunct Heights restaurant, Shade, it is chairless.

(I purchased the chair from the restaurant when they were renovating. The morning we became engaged, my husband and I ate brunch at Shade, and I am sometimes sentimental to a ridiculous degree!)

Vintage Century Chin Hua dining table. Chairish.

About two months ago, he suggested we go ahead and get the floors refinished, rather than waiting until April 2018. I agreed happily. The sooner the floors are finished, the sooner we can bring in the rest of our furniture and really start to nest.

A couple of weeks after the flooring decision was made, he suggested we go ahead and move the laundry into the house, while we're at it.

I am over the moon.

When we first toured what is now our home, and I saw that there was no laundry room indoors, I told my husband that was a deal breaker. We had a tense little standoff in the kitchen, because it was really the only thing about the house we didn't like.

After some consideration, my darling husband made me a deal: he would do all the laundry until we were able to install a laundry room in the house.

Of course, I jumped at the offer, and we now live in a laundry-less house.

As time has passed, I think the world's most patient man has realized just why that unattached laundry room was a deal breaker for me, particularly this summer when you get sweaty just stepping outside, never mind while carrying a basket of laundry!

There is a little cluster of three closets, all adjacent to the bathtub/shower in our guest bathroom, and we've decided to turn them into a laundry room. The linen closet in the bath will be closed up, and will house the stacked washer and dryer. The hall storage closet will serve as the entrance to the laundry room, as well as standing space. And the third closet, which opens into my darling husband's study, will become space for cabinets, a countertop, and open shelves.

The bedsheets that would have lived in the bathroom will live in the guest bedroom closet, instead. We'll lose storage for towels, too, but the space beneath the guest bathroom sink is underutilized, and there's room for a larger vanity, if it comes to that.

Frankly, I'm hoping it comes to that, as the current vanity is of poor quality and has no aesthetic appeal.

In addition, we're removing the false fireplace and patching the wall, so we will no longer have to have a TV sitting four feet up in the air, and a bunch of useless trim protruding 12 inches into the already scarce floor space.

Hopefully, we'll be able to get everything wrapped up before Christmas. And, Oh! What a Christmas gift that would be!

"The Money Pit" is Real

After all the drama of the rewiring and poorly executed retexturing of our ceilings, we still had some plumbing problems to be resolved: a leaking sewage pipe beneath the house, the stoppers in both bathrooms didn't work, our kitchen sink had been hideously "resurfaced" with what looked like flat latex paint, and our kitchen faucet's sprayer was faulty: it worked perfectly well, but it wouldn't stop working until the water was turned off, and even then, it came on again once the water was turned back on.

The plumbing company's owner came to the house to give us an estimate, and announced that the drain from our bathtub was lead, and we should probably get that replaced. We agreed, and that was added to the growing list of services to be performed. It's amazing all of the things that your supposedly top-notch inspection company misses when they inspect your house. Lead pipes!

We were told by the plumbers who arrived to perform the work that it would take two days: one day for everything inside the house, and one day for the work performed in the crawl space beneath the house.

For two days, I stayed upstairs in our Master Bedroom, trying to keep the dogs calm, and failing. I hated to have to kennel Ginger, since she was already upset that we had strangers in our home, but had to do so after she jumped over the second-floor banister and onto the stairs so she could chase the intruders out of the house.

By the time I removed the mound of boxes forming a blockade to the top of the stairs, two of the plumbers were outside, and one was standing on the kitchen counter. She's not a giant, but she can be scary, and she's fast.

I apologized profusely and dragged her upstairs to her bedtime kennel, where she stayed with a rawhide "bone" for the remainder of the day.

I should also note that our air conditioner wasn't exactly pulling its weight in our Master Bedroom, that first day.

The second day, I at least had the moral support of my husband to help me deal with Ginger's frustration at not being allowed to chase the plumbers away. We groaned at how hot it was upstairs, but survived.

Until the plumbers left.

And we realized that our AC was no longer working.

We called a 24/7 HVAC repair company, and their technician arrived within 30 minutes. He also informed us of a fact we already knew: our AC was 20 years old, and it was a miracle it had lasted as long as it did. We needed one, and stat.

A previous consult with a different HVAC company had given us two options, one of which involved keeping our old unit where it was, but making a structural change in the attic. The other involved placing the new AC in an area we'd hoped to turn into an office and rerunning all of the ducts.

To our surprise and delight, the 24/7 HVAC company said they could put in a new unit in the same space, without having to replace or relocate any joists, that our ducts could mostly stay where they were, and that they could do the job for less. On a Saturday, of all things!

AND we were able to have our new AC set up to be zoned, so our upstairs Master Suite would be every bit as cool as the downstairs spaces.

Granted, we weren't thrilled about paying for a new AC - we'd hoped ours would last through the summer - but it was something we'd seen coming.

We stayed the night in a pet-friendly hotel nearby, and by the end of the day Saturday, we had a working HVAC system that blasts cool air when we need it.

We've had our fill of contractors, this past month, but fortunately, we'll only have to have one more in our home before we can really move in: the plasterers who will make our ceilings pretty, again.

In the meantime, my dear husband has been repainting some of the downstairs rooms and discovering that the previous owner painted the trim work with latex paint over oil paint, without properly preparing the surface, first. So he's elbow-deep in stripping the latex from the woodwork throughout the house (except for the kitchen cabinets), so it will be properly prepared for the oil-based paint we're using for our trim.

I help out, a bit, by standing in one place and peeling the latex off the woodwork in the biggest strips possible, a bit of meditative renovation work that I highly recommend.

It's cathartic.

And if you're curious about its soothing effects, I'm perfectly happy to brew some iced tea and let you go to town on our staircase. Or the mantle. Or....

Living In, But Not 'Moved In'

I write this from the comfort of my orange velvet sofa - sitting squarely in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a sea of golden oak flooring - while our pup Ginger lies on... the guest bedroom duvet. {sigh} The only other furnishings in the room are dog beds and a wire kennel, along with some shelves that need to travel upstairs to my husband's closet.

My dear husband and I are now living in our "new house", and the old one has been handed over to its new owners (who will use it as a pied-à-terre in Houston, since they live in Austin).

We have not, however moved in. No, most of our belongings reside in the garage apartment at the back of the property, piled into towers according to their relative importance and relevance to everyday household functions.

"Why?" you ask.

Because a homeowner can't yell at a contractor the way an architect for a fancy schmancy firm can. Though she can enlist her husband to play "Bad Cop".

Just prior to moving into our new home, our contractor - already lined up to replace the roof and the fence, and to install gutters - heard me saying something about rewiring the house. He informed me that his guys could do it, and gave us an amazing price, explaining that it would only be possible to do it at that price if we didn't have all our furniture moved into every room. It would only take 3-4 days to rewire the house, he said. My husband and I agreed it was a good idea, even though the seller's realtor told us part of the house had been rewired. The electrician would start on the day of our move.

Once rewiring began, we were informed that the only new wiring in the house was in the master bath, which had been remodeled. None of the GFIC outlets in the kitchen or downstairs bath were actually wired to be GFIC, which also explained why none of them worked. Some of the wiring in the master bedroom had actually been done with speaker wire, which explained why light bulbs used in the fixtures connected to that wiring would make a POP! when the switch was turned on, but no light shone.

Ten days after our move-in, the house's rewiring was finally finished, including several days of no-shows and having to be called back over and over again because he'd missed outlets, or light fixtures, etc. In the meantime, we were also dealing with the fact that our new metal fence had a large gap beneath it, and our darling Ginger could slip out, if left to her own devices. This took an inexplicably long time to remedy.

And the icing on the cake, after installing a brand new roof: our kitchen flooded during the first rainstorm we had!!! We had to have the roofing foreman return to replace the old flashing above the kitchen, since his crew had decided not to.

That was one hell of an afternoon.

Once all the electrical work and repairs to our brand new roof were made, our contractor's plasterer came and repaired the holes left in a few places where the electrician had to create access points. We no longer had gaping holes, but we were now stuck with untextured walls. I'd repeatedly asked the plasterer and the general contractor to try to match the existing texture, but was met with "we can't get that exact texture."

I was perfectly aware that an exact texture match was out of the question - I didn't spend 10 years in the construction and design industry without learning at least that much - but could they at least try to get close? After a couple of days of hemming and hawing, the plasterers returned and did their best.

On the walls.

The ceilings were left untouched.

When we asked why, we were informed that they didn't have the materials to try to blend the patches on the ceiling with the old texture.

WHY??? Why would you not bring the materials to do walls AND ceilings when BOTH walls AND ceilings need to be done?

We discussed our options with the contractor, who informed us that it would be better if we retextured the entire ceiling in the living and dining rooms (the only ones with patches in the ceiling). We agreed, with the stipulation that we wanted a smooth-ish texture: not orange peel, but a brushed on or rolled on finish. We discussed the whole thing with the plasterer and his assistant, too.

When it came time to do the retexturing, one would assume the plasterer and/or his assistant would be the ones to do it, right? Seeing as they knew exactly what we wanted?

WRONG! Dead wrong!

Our GC brought a member of his roofing crew - who occasionally painted, too - to do the ceilings.

My husband was at a work function when the texturing took place, and I was upstairs in bed, with a migraine, and didn't realize the 'painter' had begun texturing the ceiling. When I went downstairs later in the evening - migraine raging, and just wanting to be shot of the constant presence of contractors in the house - I saw the 'painter' using a hopper to spray orange-peel texture all over the ceiling, which he then smoothed it a little bit with a knock-down knife.

He was almost completely finished with the dining room, and was using a quick drying formula so we wouldn't have to wait as long to paint. Which meant that the corners where he'd started were already starting to set up.

So we had slightly smoothed orange-peel texture all over the ceilings, which was exactly what I'd said I didn't want, seeing as the 8'-0" ceiling would be painted blue, and would be a focal point, to some degree.

I was furious, and sad, and felt terrible, so I simply turned around, went upstairs, and lay down with my two dogs on the bed next to me. The painter was gone by the time my husband got home.

He was furious. Not with me for paying them, (it was $350, and I decided it was a fair price for getting my GC and his subcontractors out of my house for good), but for the fact that a bona fide plaster specialist hadn't done it, that the materials he brought wouldn't have even worked for the finish we wanted, and for the fact that we'd now have to wait longer to be able to paint, seeing as we would definitely be having the ceilings retextured again, albeit by someone else, this time.

So our living room is awaiting retexturing again, which is why there's almost no furniture in the room. The specialist we've hired to fix our ceiling can't start until May 2, which mercifully gets closer every day, because he has a waiting list. He's charging four times what our GC charged, but it's worth it to us to have it done properly by someone who knows what he's doing.

In the meantime, my darling, dearest husband has been painting other rooms: the hallway, the guest room, and soon, the downstairs study. I've devoted my time to installing TP holders and towel bars, clothes rod brackets, and kitchen hardware, along with freaking out over the color we'll paint the living room.

We decided, last night, to just paint it white, for now, despite the fact that I'd all but decided to paint the walls soft apricot or wheat. Eventually, it will probably be painted apricot or wheat, because I've decided that our living and dining rooms - and kitchen! - will be mostly monochromatic, but for now, white is the easiest to deal with, particularly as I'm not 100% attached to the monochromatic idea. It seems like a restful idea, though, which appeals to me, right now.

At some point a few years down the road, we'll completely gut the kitchen - except for the 36" gas range and enormous hood! - and install new cabinetry, flooring, counters: the works. We'll also update the dining room decor at that time, and I've decided that blue grasscloth wallpaper will still work, so long as the kitchen and dining room are dressed up a bit, too.

Our little home is beginning to get homier, little by little, and, someday, it will be stunning.

For now, I'll just settle for having a decent texture on the ceiling.

Back for a Brief Visit

When I last posted, I was 1) having horrible migraines; and 2) in the process of finding a larger house. The first hasn't changed much, but the second is all but accomplished: my dear husband and I close on a "new" home - the 3rd we've tried to buy! - on March 30.

It's a nice little cottage-style home near the University of Houston, in a neighborhood called University Oaks. It's home to many of the school's professors, and I'll actually be living down the street from one of my favorite professors from the Master of Architecture program.

In theory - and according to my November 14, 2016 posting - I have my design ideas all worked out because I've already defined my personal style.

Let me tell you, the crow I'm eating right now tastes horrible.

The problems I'm currently experiencing in figuring out the interior design are many.

The Living Room

The living room is also the foyer, and there are 4 individual points of entry to the 14'-0" x 14'-0" room, located more or less at the room's four corners: the front door, the doorway to the kitchen, the stairs leading to the attic master bedroom, and a door beneath the stairs leading to the main hallway and kitchen. There's also a false fireplace, and a bay window that's large and deep, just not large or deep enough to hold an entire sofa. My beautiful orange sofa will most likely be too large for the living room.

So, do I eventually stick with orange, and just buy another orange sofa (while relegating the current one to the study)? Or do I go for a gray or natural linen sofa? Or a caramel leather sofa? There are so many options it makes my head spin. For now, we plan to try to make the orange sofa work, along with the false fireplace. If it just isn't possible, we'll rip out the fireplace, and maybe buy a new sofa.

The Dining Room

The dining room is open to the kitchen, so the two spaces need to work together, but the kitchen is currently SUPER cottage-y, with white Shaker-style cabinets, white tile countertops (so. much. grout. Shudder), and a white bead-board backsplash. Eventually, we'll have the countertops and backsplash replaced - and maybe reconfigure the sink - but I'm at a complete loss as to how to integrate the decor of the dining room and kitchen, since I want the dining room to feel at least a little special and a little more dressy than the average breakfast nook.

At the first house we put an offer on, I'd planned to wallpaper the dining room in blue grasscloth, have a glossy white Strut Table by BluDot beneath a brass chandelier, and throw a sisal rug on the floor. This was also my plan for the second house we put an offer on. This house, though, with its open dining/kitchen doesn't want grasscloth, it seems. Unless we enclose the kitchen when we change the countertops - which I'd hate to do - I'll have to find a happy medium.

Should I paint the cabinets bottle green? Or navy blue? Or do I plan for my dining room to be "Modern Farmhouse Chic" and just run with the all-white business?

I'm not prepared for finding a happy medium.

The Master Bedroom

The Master Bedroom is currently open to the living room beneath it. The stairs that lead up to the attic bedroom end at an open landing, with a very low wall separating the attic space from the open stairwell. Essentially, the master bedroom is a mostly enclosed loft bedroom. Eventually, this - like the kitchen countertops - will change. We'll build a real wall with an actual door to separate the landing from the Master Bedroom, which I'm definitely looking forward to doing.

We'll also eventually annex part of the 18'-0" x 19'-0" Master Bedroom to the existing (unworkable) closets. There are two closets for the Master Bedroom, each tucked under the eaves, with a rod about 6" long for hanging long items, and another 36" rod for hanging short items. 

One of the closets also contains a pipe and an electrical box. 

Neither of the closets is painted, or useful. 

For now, we'll purchase a couple of rolling clothes racks from Target, and use those for clothing storage until we take in the northern 6'-0" of space for a walk-in closet.

The Master Bedroom is also almost entirely beneath the slope of the roof, with vertical walls giving way to sloping ceiling/walls about 34" above the finished floor. Our enormous gilded and linen upholstered Rococo headboard won't even fit upstairs, so it will be sold in one hell of a garage sale once we've moved.

For the first house we tried to buy, I'd developed the design scheme below:

© Copyright 2017 by Megan Kidwell for CuratedHouston.com

My dear husband had even consented to the pink walls, since the rest of the decor would be more masculine. Everything was perfect! And the second house we tried to buy would have worked well with this scheme.

Our "new" home, however, doesn't seem to me to want this scheme. That, and my husband has made it fairly clear in the past few weeks that he dislikes the navy bedspread we bought when we got married, along with the beautiful lavender linen bedsheets we purchased. And pink just doesn't seem right, to me, when it's on attic walls. I might change my mind on this, but this is an entirely different house, so I think my husband will also change his mind.

We've had more arguments over furniture and wall colors and future laundry rooms in the past month than we've had in our whole relationship up to the beginning of this past month. It's insane.

We're holding off on buying anything for the Master Bedroom, for right now. We eventually want a king bed, so there's no use in buying a queen headboard when we don't intend to stay in a queen bed forever. 

When we move into the house shortly after March 30, we'll be sleeping on a mattress and box springs sans frame and headboard, with our current bedside tables (which we'll also eventually sell) and current bedding, which is a mishmash of old sheets from the pre-marriage days, and the bedding we bought after our wedding. Until we figure out exactly what we're going to do, upstairs, we'll hold off on painting, too.

[Ed. Note: I also hate the navy blue bedspread, but for different reasons: the batting is coming out through the fabric, so our bedspread constantly appears to be covered in dust and/or dog hair.]

The Study

The house has two bedrooms downstairs, in addition to the Master upstairs. I'd planned to put all three of my custom built bookshelves in the study, along with our white twin desks from IKEA, which we bought because I really loved their design (no joke).

Alex Desk by IKEA

Come to find out, my husband just wants one bookshelf in the study, because the large quantity of books on their shelves makes him feel claustrophobic.

I am learning so much about my husband.

I pointed out to him that the study at the "new" house (12'-0" x 13'-0") will be considerably larger than our current one (9'-0" x 9'-0").

Nope. He still only wants one bookshelf.

We can arrange them so there won't be as many books on them, I explained. We can stage them properly, with only a few books, and a few carefully chosen decorative objects from our collection, like the Oaxacan ceramic pot I bought him for Christmas.

In his words, he "strongly protest[s]".

So one bookshelf will be in the study, and one in the guest room, where it will serve as a nightstand for the two twin beds we'll eventually buy for the room, as well as providing a place to store books, and a few decorative pieces.

The third bookshelf... will probably go in the study for now. Maybe, I can stage them with fewer books and he'll change his mind?

He also dislikes the desks we currently have. He suggested we get one (1) bigger desk to share. The problems with this idea are that 1) he likes to have a neat and orderly desk, and I constantly have a small pile of things to file on the desk (tax stuff), along with pens, random bits of paper or images torn from magazines, legal pads (multiple) with lists (multiple, and sometimes overlapping), along with random tchotchkes, like antique butter-pat dishes and a Beanie Baby polar bear of emotional significance; 2) we sometimes need to use the office at the same time, and the type of desk he's envisioning isn't big enough for that.

So far, he's compromised on this one, saying that we can have separate desks, so long as there's only one bookshelf in the office, whereas I developed a layout incorporating both bookshelves and a single desk, along with a sofa or daybed. I think this furniture situation is going to be an audible, to use a football term. For those who don't follow American football, we'll play it by ear.

Eventually, we intend to finish out part of the remaining upstairs attic (about 10'-0" x 10'-0"), and maybe that can become my own little study with as many bookshelves and books as I want. (It would also make a great retreat for those nights when I'm restless and can't sleep, if we include a daybed.) A little insulation, some wood panelling, a skylight, and I'm all set.

Of course, I'd have to figure out how to decorate that room, too. Honestly, I smell a lot of pink in my imaginary study's future.

The Laundry Room

The laundry room at the "new" house is not, actually, in the house: it's attached to the detached garage, which is, in fact, no longer a garage, but an efficiency apartment. (We plan to renovate the kitchenette in the efficiency and rent it out ASAP, allowing us to pay off the mortgage faster and/or speed up the timeline for repairs and alterations to the house). 

When we first saw the house, I told my dear husband that the house was a no-go if we didn't move the laundry room to the house within 18 months of moving in. He agreed, since I originally suggested we build the laundry room in the current unfinished attic space.

I realized, after we'd put in an offer, that it would be impossible to move the laundry room, upstairs, because there was no way to put a door larger than 24" leading into that space, and full-size washers and dryers are wider than 24". I suggested, instead, that we take in about 56 square feet of the MONSTER screened porch to create a Laundry/Mud Room. There's some push-back, but hopefully he'll come around.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

I write this post with a heavy heart, because it's the last for CuratedHouston.

I've had some form of chronic illness for almost as long as I can remember; my sister lovingly calls me 'The Shit Magnet' of our family, because if shit's going to happen to one of us, it happens to me. We have a somewhat dark sense of humor in my family (it helps in dealing with the stress of illness!).

Over the past six or seven years, I've fought against chronic migraines (where you have 15 or more per month), as well as several autoimmune problems that appear to be at least partially genetic. During the past month, my migraines have worsened to the point where I can no longer post reliably, and the energy I had for calling on new shops, photographing them, and writing about them is dissipating. To no one's surprise (except mine), the problems I had in an architecture office - too much exposure to computer screens, causing or worsening migraines - haven't lessened during the hours I spent learning HTML coding.

But in all this bad news, and sadness because my dream is dead (for now), there are some good things: one of my Christmas wishes - to have a larger home for my husband and our two dogs - is coming true!

So, adieu to you, and best of luck in your design endeavors!

All I Want for Christmas Is...

It's that time of the year: the time when a large proportion of the world gives and receives gifts in their community, some thoughtful:

Family Tree at Württembergisches Landesmuseum, Stuttgart / Wikimedia Commons

some not so much:

Oh, look. It's a cheese fondue set. via Wikimedia Commons

It's supposed to be a joyful time of year, when family and friends come together to celebrate the holidays, but it often ends up being more stressful than not! So, for this first CuratedHouston Holiday post, we've rounded up a collection of gifts that would ease the stress of the season so we could enjoy it as we should!

Image via Amazon.com

1. Handbag Organizer - It's a seemingly insignificant gift that we think could be life-changing. We practically live in our cars, and it's almost impossible to manage the large numbers of coins, pens, emery boards, and lipsticks inevitably buried beneath that layer of Starbucks receipts and dry-cleaning claim tickets. A handbag organizer would help, seeing as that one interior purse pocket always fills up quickly! This leopard print option from Periea is calling our name!






2. Cosmetics Compact - Okay, so we already use at least one of Laura Mercier's brilliant custom compacts to keep our blush and eyeshadow corralled, and it definitely cuts down on countertop and makeup bag clutter! These Laura Mercier compacts are available at Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom, which means you have a perfect excuse to eat at Bazille or Mariposa. Also, we're trying to figure out how to apply this bundling principle to everything in our lives. Ideas gratefully accepted!

Amazing Charger Available Here.

3. Charging Hub - With a limited number of outlets in our office, it would be a godsend to have a handy charging station for all of our gadgets: iPhone, iPad, and MacBook Pro. Also, if it could be made of an attractive material that's made of renewable resources, that would be great, thanks. Enter this beauty of a charging hub that would solve all my problems:

4. Desktop Scanner - Organizing all the forms, contracts, and bills that are an inevitable part of business and household management, and what better way to keep track of them than by scanning them straight onto that MacBook. A small one, like this one from Epson, would fit the bill perfectly!

Doesn't It Just Make You Want to Prepare Your Income Taxes?

5. Trunk Cargo Organizer - While buying groceries to make food for a sick relative, I started to daydream about having one of these. It would mean the end of wondering if that container of cubed cantaloupe from Whole Foods will make it home in one piece.

Available in Multiple Configurations here.

6. A Dog Walker - It's difficult to fit in exercise for ourselves, never mind for our pups. A dog walker - and I don't mean a robotic dog walker, but a human - to take the dogs for a trek around the neighborhood when our schedules mean it's just not in the cards.


7. Customized Meal Plans - We're tempted to try a service like platejoy, which creates meal plans for specific tastes, goals, and allergies, and plans your meals so leftover ingredients from Monday night's dinner are used up in Thursday's breakfast. Sure, you still have to do the grocery shopping, but that's what Instacart is for, right?

8. Gorgeous Office Supplies - Paperwork isn't known for pleasing the senses, but that doesn't mean the office essentials you need can't be! We love love love Cynthia Rowley's collaboration with Staples: think moody, floral, and luscious!

Find It Here....

Here...

And Here.

9. J. Crew Endless Shirt - Our capsule wardrobes - a few select items that all coordinate - could become a single uniform with about 10 of these wonderful shirts hanging in our closets! All we'd need to finish the uniform: 2 pairs of jeans, 2 pairs of J. Crew's Pixie pants in black and gray, and LOTS of chunky jewelry.

Dear Santa, I Seriously Just Want Ten of These. Please!

10. 1,000 Square Foot Addition (or A Whole New House) - Editor-in-Chief Megan currently shares a 3-BR/1-BA house with her husband and two dogs.

It's 985 SF.

Why she wants another 1,000 square feet of space is pretty obvious: it's a little cramped (the largest bedroom is 9'-0" x 11'-3")! And, of course, more square footage means more spaces that need to be designed! And who wouldn't want that?

What are your 10 most desired Holiday Gifts? And don't worry about being realistic, because WE certainly aren't!


Note: The companies whose products are listed above did not pay to be in this posting. We just really like the products!

Far Pavilions: Far From Ordinary

Name: Far Pavilions

Double-Arched Mughal Compound Doors with Brass Studs

Owner: Ritika & Sumit Bhasin

Address:         20425 Katy Freeway
        Katy, TX 77450

Website:         www.farpavilions.com

Price Range: $$ - $$$

Trade
Consideration: Yes





What You’ll find:

One of a kind furniture, accessories, linens, and art imported from India, Nepal, Peru, and a host of other countries. Many of the pieces are antiques or are assembled from salvaged elements to Ritika’s specifications by artisans, while others are restored to their former glory prior to sale. Ritika travels to India and beyond multiple times each year in search of treasures to bring home to Texas.

Toss Pillows in silk and patchwork fabrics atop a Kantha Quilt

Large bookcases and armoires are often constructed from the lintels of an antique Indian doorway, or the arch of a compound’s gates, combined with fine carving salvaged from doorways, windows, and pieces of furniture. Most of the pieces incorporate peacocks and sacred lotus flowers, two of India’s national symbols. Indian linens include place mats, table runners, toss pillows, bedspreads and kantha quilts, and embroidered silk curtains in bright jewel tones. The toss pillows’ fronts can be assembled from multiple dresses from various regions in India, or wool paisley scarves and blankets; paisley blankets in high-quality wool are also on offer.

Hand Carved & Painted Jharoka w/ Brass Chains

Other nations are represented alongside India’s wares. New Peruvian pieces include wooden dining tables and dining sets that are coated in gesso and hand-painted. Ritika imports traditional ceramics from a potter in Spain.


Why You Should Go:

Ritika and her husband, Sumit, know everything there is to know about their wares, whether it’s the provenance behind a pair of doors waiting for you to install them at your home, or the portion of the bodice used to construct a toss pillow. You can also buy a pavilion from Far Pavilions, purchase intricately beaded tapestries to add a jolt of color to your walls, and know that no one else will have the piece you’re purchasing.  The artisans that once created the carved doorways and window shutters are long gone, and their current carvers are nowhere near as talented, especially since the craft is dying out in India.

Pair of Large Hand-Carved &
Painted Horse

Antique Teak Temple &
Statue of "Good Luck" Ganesha

Antique Teak Temple &
Armoire of Carved Antique Door & Lintels