When we finally finished the last of the renovation work on the Tree House (my pet name for our highrise condo,) we swore up, down, and sideways we would never get another place that needed so much updating. Bathrooms, the kitchen, flooring, deck resurfacing…. on and on it went. (Not to mention we change paint colors on a pretty regular basis- The Mr. and our painter had a bromance of epic proportions. )
Ugh.
We are not good at it- we usually spend the timeline of the project trading who wants to mow who with the car…. so far we have both missed decided against going through with it.
So far.
The suck of it all?
It turns out we are attracted to places like that because nothing, no matter how “done” it is, ever actually feels like us until we rip it up a little.
We are so NOT Mr. and Mrs. DIY. You won’t see us trolling Home Depot with one of those uber-carts piling up sheet rock and lumber and power tools together.
We hire it out, prep the space and go into reno-mode.
This involves martinis, take out, and lots of barely talking to each other while spending every moment we possibly can on the patio and NOT inside the war construction zone.
We have almost notoriously bad reno-karma.
So when this morning’s start to the kitchen cabinet refinishing went from zero to insane-crew-member creating a scene in the street and then peeling out of the subdivision, twice, I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised.
But we still were.
If I’m going to live in a freaking soap opera, can we get some shirtless hot dudes up in here?
FFS, anything that involves more than the big box carpet installer dudes seems to mean 3 of The 4 Horsemen will most likely be the workers who show up (Or at least stop by for a material drop to make sure shit is going adequately off the rails?)
COME ON!!
Also – it’s fine to call a pint glass a “stemless martini glass,” right?
Because I need to upsize the drink like we upsized the house that needs work.
Reluctantly Suburban 
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