Happy Anniversary?

Well... here we are... one whole year since first moving into the Money Pit. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have thought I'd have MUCH more to show for it than I do now... but let's take a moment to reflect on what we do have...

Things I Know Now:

The sense of pride you get from doing something yourself far outweighs the bruises and the muscle pains and the headaches and the "why the eff wouldn't you just pay someone to do this" questions you get from people who don't get it.

Whoever did the last renovation did it wrong. Ask a contractor. The other guy ALWAYS did it wrong.

Pigeon shit is the most vile substance on the face of the Earth. Mike Roe should dedicate an entire show to the superheroes that cleaned our attic for us.

Contractors don't want to talk to women. Good contractors WILL, but they all prefer dudes.

24 hours to finish your kitchen before a surprise inspection on the hottest day in August, a broken furnace in January, and two weeks to fill a 10 ton dumpster will instill a sense of panic and desperation in you like none you have ever known... and an indescribable gratitude for the people that come to your rescue.

Everything takes longer than you think it will. EVERYTHING. Got a deadline? Add a week. Already did? Add another one. Now you've got a chance. Maybe.

Measure twice cut once... usually... sometimes, you cut twice anyway...

Good family and best friends aren't always the same people, but sometimes they are.

You'll feel better if you stop asking yourself the question, "WHY would someone DO something like [fill in the asinine blank]?"

You CAN survive a Buffalo winter without a furnace. But I don't recommend it.

Beers make even the dirtiest job bearable.

Swinging a broom at a bat will only make it angry.

"Good fences make good neighbors," but GREAT neighbors are priceless.

A puppy would much rather chew on a piece of plaster than the organic rope toy you spent $16 on.

A year ago, I wouldn't leave the house in anything less than a 2" heel, had regular mani-pedis, couldn't hammer a nail, and didn't know the difference between a circular saw and a miter saw. Now, it's not unusual for me to be seen coming out of a hardware store in paint-splattered jeans, a pair of work gloves hanging out of my back pocket, with little to no makeup on, loading paint, power tools, and/or lumber into a pickup truck. Oh, and I drink beer now.

But I don't think I'd have it any other way.