Me, being just a tiny bit impulsive
There have been times in my life when I've thought things through before doing them. Not many, but it has happened.
This was not one of those times.
Me, being just a tiny bit impulsive
There have been times in my life when I've thought things through before doing them. Not many, but it has happened.
This was not one of those times.
Hellooooo before and after!
The hall bathroom - a small space with lots of opportunities for easy fixes - was another of the first projects I tackled when we moved into our new place, just because I already knew what to do (and also knew that it would be low-cost, high-impact).
Moving day!
We're moved in!!! Mostly. Our kitchen is still a construction zone, the toilets and showers are giving me sass, and I've been wandering around at 3am every night hanging things, so I am a puffy exhausted mess - but all of the bedrooms are more or less set up, we have a usable dining room, I know what day the trash gets picked up, et cetera. And the Wifi is functioning (!), hence my ability to write this post.
(BY THE WAY. 99% of the reason I've been able to do all of this while also being a working mother and maintaining a marginal degree of mental stability is Duckbill. It's a personal assistant service. Go get your free month with code RAMSHACKLE and thank me later.)
Move-in day; also an excellent approximation of my feelings about my kitchen floor
I hate my kitchen floor. I have hated it from the moment I moved in, when it consisted of paint-splattered linoleum in a shade that could generously be called "vomit." I hated it after I tried to fix it by covering the linoleum with peel-and-stick tiles, which - as it turns out - reallllly aren't the best choice for this large or well-trafficked of a space.
I've gotten pretty handy over the years, mostly thanks to the presence in my life of a few Superwomen who have taught me how to do things like lay tile, resurface brick, and even demolish concrete (not the best idea for the old neck muscles, but surprisingly fun). And lord, do I wish those women lived near me still, because the house that I'm currently renting has alllllllll the project opportunities (yes, I fix up houses that I rent - you can read my rationale here).
In the course of my efforts to fix up certain elements of this house that I wasn't into, I've had some wins - painting my daughter's room, securing some maybe-going-to-fall-down ceiling panels, retiling my entryway step, suffocating weeds and replacing them with lavender and blueberry bushes, that sort of thing. But I've also had oh my god, some misses - like, for example, the linoleum kitchen floor that I covered (poorly) in stick-on tile that is MUCH better-suited to small spaces and apparently turns grey with any wear whatsoever.
Another fail: I used that same tile to cover a gross wall in the bathroom. I discovered that its stick-on powers did not extend to use on bathroom walls (or at least not somewhat uneven ones) around 2AM later that night, when I was awoken by the huge "bang" made by twenty tiles all falling off the wall and into my bathtub simultaneously. But was I to be deterred?!