Upgrading for Resale: What Buyers Are Really Looking ForTips to Prepare for a Home Renovation Without Losing Your Mind 75
That tap wasn't even broken. Just annoying. You had to nudge it slightly left and then back into position to get non-freezing water. If you turned it too fast, it'd screech. Not deafening, but sharp — like a rusty hinge with opinions. I put up with it for years. Blamed the system. Blamed the apartment. Blamed everything except myself.
One Tuesday, I was home early, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I am tired of this space.
It wasn't a moment of clarity. More like a feeling that had finally spread to my ribs. The cutlery tray slid around, the bench was barely usable, and the top cabinet door was my arch nemesis every time I opened the dishwasher. I'd started to flinch early.
I pulled out a receipt back and wrote “new tap” at the top. Beneath that: “actual counter space,” then “move light switch?” The question mark wasn't a joke. The switch really was behind the fridge.
I told myself I'd keep it simple. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, holding a tap, I somehow ended up with paint cards under my arm. And then came the point of no return.
I didn't hire a pro. I probably should've. Instead, I watched a video at 1am from my friend Rory, who handed it over with a grin Not exactly the comforting guidance, but I got started.
Taking down that upper cabinet felt like a rebellion. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that made excuses.
The journey spiraled. Not badly, just... inevitably. I spent three hours googling “do I need primer?”. Got into a minor argument with a guy on a Reddit thread about silicone gaps. I still don't really trust epoxy, but I'm convinced he was probably guessing.
And the new tap? Still squeaks. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've made peace with it.
It's not perfect. The tile near the bin's slanted, and the outlet by the toaster wobbles. But when I step in, I don't brace. That alone is enough.
And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. read more Which, honestly, might be the real achievement.