Before we signed the final papers on each of the three homes we bought over the years, the main thing David wanted to know was, “Is it alright the way it is? I don’t want to have to go in there and do a bunch of work on it.” He’s who the phrase “move-in ready” was created for.
“Oh yeah,” I told him each time. “Everything’s great.”
In the house in Houston, the Sugar Land house, and our current home, nasty carpet stains started appearing within weeks of our moving in. It’s a well-known fact that every seller shampoos the carpet before putting the house on the market, and that the stains always re-blossom. Also, there are more dogs that aren’t house trained than I ever thought possible. In all three cases, though it had been established that David wanted nothing to do with any kind of remodel, I started with a hint—“Have you noticed those dark spots coming out in the carpet?” And his answer would be, “Don’t look.” But once I mentioned them to him, he couldn’t look away.
We repainted and redid the floors in all three houses. As an aside, we never made a single change to the company-leased flats and houses in other parts of the world, though we knew many ex-pats who spent plenty on painting and retiling. Putting money into a rented home never made sense to either of us.
This house in Marble Falls is lovely, with an artsy dome in the dining room, high ceilings, tall doorways, two fireplaces, one with a molded mantle, the other with a stone hearth and hand-crafted wooden mantle. And the bar is also made of rock and topped by granite. Every guest heads there as soon as they’re through the front door.
As with most homes, the heart is the kitchen—in this case it’s literal as well as figurative. The kitchen is at the physical center of the house, with a hall going away from it in one direction and another hall leading away in the other. And the kitchen looks out over the two living areas, so there’s a wide-open feel. I loved this home-heart from the second I entered it. The storage space is phenomenal and the mottled black granite of the counter is classic. At the time, I noticed that yes, the tile and antiqued cabinets were dated; but I truly thought I could live with them. I never deceived myself about the sink, the color of which I crudely named Arian nipple. Anyway, after eight years of looking at a backsplash of so neutral a shade that it offered camouflage to every bit of grit, grease, or sauce found in a kitchen, I began to long for a color that would expose every germ-ridden speck. So when the time was right, I mentioned to David that the tile on the backsplash was dated; and that, furthermore, I was tired of looking at the antiqued cabinetry that had, in the beginning, seemed so charming. Again, once seen, he couldn’t unsee.
We got the name of a tile guy from a friend, met with him, chose a tile, and set a date. Inarguably knowledgeable about tile, Larry-the-tile-guy was our age, older than expected. He brought another man with him; a helper or partner, we weren’t sure. The two of them bickered like they’d been together for years. Once they went silent on each other for an entire day, and the house was burdened by their childish pique. On the whole, they understood that having the kitchen torn up was unsettling and they couldn’t have been more considerate. Larry was big on consulting me about my preferences, vowing that his job was to please the customer; though when he first realized my plan, he voiced an opinion—“This is going to be a really bright kitchen.” Yes, yes, I thought, give me the brightest kitchen known to man. Larry and his grumpy cohort were finished when they said they’d be and they did an excellent job. I’d recommend him to anyone in the area who needs tile work done.
Receiving three bids, David made the decision about who would do the painting. And the decision was exactly right because the price was fair and the finished product looks great. On the other hand, the crew spoke no English, which is the way of things in this part of the world, although usually there’s one worker present who can communicate. Their English-speaking boss only showed up occasionally, so if there were questions or concerns when he wasn’t around, we resorted to playing A Game of Phones—David called the boss, waited for him to call back, which he usually did within minutes; and after discussion the boss called the head man on site, then called David with answers and explanations. Expecting inefficiency, that’s what we got. The guys didn’t show up until late in the mornings. Once they showed up at eleven and went to lunch at twelve. And the job wasn’t finished when we’d been told it would be. We were both aware of what to expect before we embarked on the project; and, knowing I’d brought this on myself, I nevertheless complained. Proclivities aside, they were good men and they did good work, so them, too, I’d recommend.
Next came the sink. I went to Mahjong on Monday at noon, and when I returned the most beautiful shiny white sink had replaced the ugly gross one. It’s too beautiful to hold dishes. I rinse and polish it several times a day.
All in all, I’m thrilled with the new look. I’ll post pictures!
The Bright Kitchen. No nasties can hide from me now!
We got rid of the old-fashioned phone plug. It hasn’t been hanging like that this whole time. That was the result of the tile guy pulling it loose so he could see what he’d be dealing with behind it.
The new sink.
The old sink. It’s not dirty—it just looked like that.
