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When we tell people we’re renovating our home, some ask if my marriage is strong, some make the sign of the cross in my general direction and one person cursed and spat on the sidewalk.

What I was not prepared for was the magnitude of minute little details that don’t go right.  Not the major disasters, the little things.  All of these issues require a few conversations, a few phone calls and at least one, but usually more than one, trip to a house of ill repute.  Or a hardware store.

This is what was presented to me over the space of a few hours one afternoon last week.

  1. The organizational system I bought won’t slide in my enclosed alcove.
  2. The matching shelf for the bathroom was too long for intended space.
  3. The hot water pipe for bathroom sink didn’t reach spigot.
  4. The PVC pipe under the bathroom sink drain was too short.
  5. The medicine cabinet blocks half the bathroom lights.
  6. The kitchen bar didn’t come with screws.
  7. The screws that came with the heavy wine rack were too flimsy.
  8. The new toilet sits 2 inches too far away from the hole in the ground.

And this was just on my plate for the day.  Jim was dealing with the leak in the roof, the rotting wood, the door that shouldn’t have been painted and on and on and on and on and on.

So before you make your This Old House dreams comes true, ask yourself this first.  Is your marriage strong enough to get a love letter like this?


I keep pressing the Hide button in the top right corner, but they keep finding me.


I know!  Talk about your white girl problem!

The sheer volume of dirty dishes in my house is an unintended side effect of trying to cook healthy meals at home, aka collateral damage.

I get home from work everyday with a dishwashing intention cascading through my mind, and then I can’t I just can’t.  I have the beautiful opportunity to work part-time, and there is a new expectation that more of the housework should be done in my so-called off time.  I think so too most days.  But when I get home, it just feels like a total waste of valuable free time to spend it doing the endless task of unloading and loading the dishwasher.

Jim is still somewhat taken aback that I don’t relish the opportunity to do dishes.  He said his Mom loved to do housework.  (insert incredulous look here).  Then one day he realized that my Mom worked full time+ (teacher) and had 4 kids and his Mom had no outside job and only 1 kid. Still, that did not mean that she loved to do housework.  She probably just didn’t loathe it.  “Hey, that bowl of pimento cheese is not going to clean itself!”

No more to say about not doing the dishes.

Without looking like a total fool, pretentious bitch, ungrateful, lazy, lame… you know the rest.