Renovation Errors You'll Hate — and Prevent ThemDo-It-Yourself vs. Professional Renovations: What's Smarter? 86

Renovation Errors You'll Hate — and Prevent ThemDo-It-Yourself vs. Professional Renovations: What's Smarter? 86

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This one stupid tap wasn't even completely busted. Just slow. You had to twist it slightly left and then back into position to get usable water. If you messed up the angle, it'd screech. Not aggressive, but sharp — like a rusty hinge with opinions. I let it go for far longer than I should've. Blamed the system. Blamed the setup. Blamed everything except the fact that I hadn't done anything.

One afternoon, I was home early, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I hate this kitchen.

It wasn't a rage fit. More like a background noise that had finally spread to my ribs. The drawers were loose, the bench was basically decorative, and the cupboard door slammed my face every time I grabbed a bowl. I'd started to brace like it was a reflex.

I pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote “replace kitchen faucet” at the top. Beneath that: “longer bench,” then “this wiring makes no sense” The question mark wasn't sarcastic. The switch really read more was inexplicably placed.

I told myself I'd keep it simple. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, confused by finishes, I somehow ended up with paint cards under my arm. And then came the mess.

I didn't get help. I probably should've. Instead, I watched a video at 1am from my friend Rory, who told me to "be careful-ish" Not exactly the OSHA standard, but I got started.

Taking down that top unit felt like the beginning of something. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that lived with forehead bruises.

The journey spiraled. Not badly, just... naturally. I spent three hours reading reviews about adhesive. Got into a minor argument with a guy on a forum about silicone gaps. I still don't really trust epoxy, but I'm convinced he was probably guessing.

And the new tap? Still isn't silent. 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 a win.

And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, might be the real achievement.