The source of my sore muscles, bad attitude, and pessimism

We’ve been toying with the idea of putting our house on the market for over a year now. Truth be told, it isn’t because we have specific alternate plans concerning our residency. The only definite we have is the feeling that this house likely isn’t in any potential plans. We met with our realtor in May to get an idea of just how pathetic the market currently is and when we could expect to see some improvement. We learned that while the market is currently at the highest level of suck, it is likely that next year it might be like suck on steroids, and the following year projections included forecasts of posting your house on Freecycle.

We did what any irrational couple unwilling to postpone moving for four years would do, we decided to put our house on the market. Such a simple statement. Such an ineffable undertaking considering the house was about 90% renovated and 10% organized at that point in time.

Heading into June, I told Craig that we’d likely have the house ready in a couple of weeks. That is sort of like me saying, “I’ll be ready in FIVE minutes”, which really means crack open a beer and turn on a re-run of Two and a Half Men and I’ll be down in 45 minutes. Incidentally, a couple of weeks meant seven; seven weeks of nonstop work. Spending seven weeks of summer subject to such torture should be illegal.

Those weeks enriched my brain in the following ways: Helpful hint #1: If it is still in the box from when you moved in 5 years ago, just throw it away because you obviously haven’t missed it or the other 15 boxes just like it. Helpful hint #2: Washing the outside of your windows is overrated. Learning how to use a combination of a pressure-washer and dish detergent = priceless. Helpful hint #3: It is a sign that you’ve neglected your fridge too long when you find a jar of pickles that expired in 2007. Helpful hint #4: It is amazing how much a playroom gets used when you take the treadmill, itinerant furniture, and boxes of clothing out of it. Helpful hint #5: Hiding mountains of paperwork in Tupperware bins and labeling them “office supplies” only sounds like a good idea until you have to move said bins.

On Friday we officially put our house on the market. A co-worker looked at our listing online and couldn’t stop exclaiming over how clean, organized, and show-room perfect our house looked in the pictures. I’m all, NO SHIT, that is because I got so delirious I donated, Craig’s Listed, or threw away most of what we owned.
Oh and whatever you do, don’t look in the closets until some time next week.

Kate's Bathroom Take-Two

We started the renovation of Kate’s bathroom the weekend of November 5th. I swore it was sometime in April, but when I searched my blog archives, I was promptly proven wrong. Even worse was the fact that my intention was to complete the renovation the weekend I posted. So, the plan was for it to be completed Nov 7th and we finished it last weekend, May 31st. Instead of explaining the discrepancy, consider yourself forewarned that my deadlines have a 7-month grace window. My husband calls this the Lyndsay-Factor, which means if I say I’ll be ready in 5 minutes, he multiplies it by 7, and viola – I’m ready to go.

In my defense, the bathroom presented many challenges I did not anticipate. I sort of thought attempting to renovate a bathroom was challenge in itself. Couple that with the goal to make it guest and toddler friendly, along with gender neutral, and I thought I had enough to keep me busy.

The drama started with the wallpaper. I hate wallpaper. Obviously people who hate wallpaper and have never used wallpaper are not capable of wallpaper ordering. The one double-roll of paper I ordered wallpapered approximately ¼ of the bathroom. I do not excel in the art of wallpaper and apparently also not in mathematics.
After the wallpaper was reordered and installed, we moved to the next drama. The one thing that I insisted on removing from Kate’s old bathroom was her bathroom vanity. Don’t you judge me, I’ll come install it in your bathroom and see how you like it. The problem was that the vanity was 43” long, which apparently was totally normal circa 1978, but not so much in 2008.

After weeks of searching, we were able to find a 43” vanity, but no 43” vanity top. At that point, I told Craig that Kate could brush her teeth in the tub; sinks are overrated. We finally found a place where we could order a 43” vanity top, it would simply cost us $500. At that moment, I could see Craig mentally jumping on the sink-boycott bandwagon.

Instead, we decided to buy a new vanity, one in a more socially acceptable 37” size. I am using the term “we” a little loosely here. On the surface, replacing a 43” vanity with a 37” one doesn’t sound all that dramatic, does it? I will point out the possibly not so obvious here and fill you in on a little secret: that leaves a 6” gap of subflooring visible on the floor. And what’s the answer to that? Well, a new tile floor of course!

Craig LOVED that project, let me tell you.

So, I ascertain that I had some reasoning behind the project that fell oh-so-slightly behind schedule. But it is done and although it isn’t 100% my style, it’s cute, it’s clean, and it’s fully functioning. Oh and it’s done … D-O-N-E, done.

If you didn’t click the earlier link to view the “before” pictures, I implore you to now. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

With that, here is the completed bathroom:



Photographing a bathroom with a blazing vanity light on is horribly difficult, so I apologize for the odd urine-tint to these photos. It has nothing to do with my cute yellow wallpaper.





Aren’t these pieces darling? A colleague’s daughter (who was just accepted into THE Art Center) did these acrylics just for Kate. When she's uber-famous, I'll try to sell them on ebay.

I am sort of missing the whole Wonder Years decorating scheme we had going on here though. I just killed the last piece of the 70's that remainded in this house. Next up, our bathroom, which should be done next weekend. Errr, or possibly next month.

Kate's Bathroom: Take One

Whenever I see pictures of Kate's old bathroom, I envision Winnie and Kevin in the background. You know, singing what would think if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me. Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, and I'll try not to sing out of key. Oh I get by with a little help from my friends, I get high with a little help from my friends, oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends.



If you read about our last bathroom and corresponding renovation, this one pretty much follows the same formula. Take the ugliest bathroom wallpaper available, match with the gaudiest hanging bathroom lights, and top with the nastiest bathroom vanity known to mankind. Before you go calling CPS for subjecting our daughter to such disastrous design taste, I can at least affirm that it’s clean. That counts for something, right?



I’ve always been a wallpaper hater. I’ve removed more wallpaper from our last two houses than I care to talk about. I still have flashbacks of Dif and bloody fingernails when I think about it. However, and I shudder at saying this, we are putting wallpaper BACK up in Kate’s bathroom. See, when we took the old wallpaper off, this is what we found.



This is 28 year old wallpaper paste that isn’t going to go anywhere. Those bathroom walls and I have those two things in common; we are both 28 and stubborn as hell. Quickly our options became wallpaper or new drywall. All of a sudden I felt a little guilty that I have been such a wallpaper hater. Hopefully it doesn't hold a grudge.

Our glamorous weekend (and giveaway winner)

Time is up! Thanks to everyone who entered my first ever giveaway. Per Random.org, I’m excited to announce #20 Anna L. as the winner. Email me at lyndsay@iusedtobewitty.com with your address.

This weekend is shaping up to be chaotic, yet hopefully productive. We have company coming to town (my mom and brother - yea!) and a plethora of homework to complete. I’m quite encouraged on the school front today, as I just received notice of the A I got in my last course. Yeah, you know, Personnel Management, which should have been Personal Management. Apparently I can still manage other people, but haven’t made progress on managing myself yet. I’m so uncooperative. Ask me how I feel about school on Monday and when my head spins around 15 times and I give you the Ice Queen stare, you’ll have your answer.

The fun project we are working on this weekend is Kate’s bathroom. Kate’s bathroom is currently a contender for the freaking ugliest possible room imposed upon mankind grand prize. Through the weekend, I’ll be posting some before – during – after pictures. Get your barf bags positioned. It’s bad. Really bad.

Your inheritance, the bathroom counter

Any professional design person goes into a project like this with every detail finalized. We pretty much wing it, from start to finish. The bathroom renovation started with this sink from Kohler, which I fell in love with. This sink became the basic design inspiration for the room: square and straight lines. It totally worked. The wainscoting carried the straight lines theme. I adored this washboard colored paint and knew I would not be brave enough to use it elsewhere, so it found its home in this room.

The bathroom mirror was one I found at Target. Look in the section with decorative mirrors, they are always so much more fun than the ones in the bathroom section. After I bought the mirror, I randomly found the matching hardware at Lowe's. Fate, no? I took a close up picture of the details as proof that under dire decorating circumstances, I can indeed pay attention to the details.

The bathroom is complete, but not without two major catastrophes along the way. First, was the faucet. It was outrageously difficult to find a square faucet whose price did not rival a Caribbean vacation. It took weeks of searching and I eventually found the faucet I wanted. For $550 I could choose between this faucet, and buying groceries for the rest of the month. I was going to sign-up for that guaranteed weight loss plan, but Craig could not be coerced, cajoled, or bribed. Thank ebay, because I got it for 1/3 of the price. Thrifty, aren't I?

The other major drama concerned the Corian that I picked out for the counter. Craig brought the Corian samples home from work and told me to pick out what I liked. He said that the Corian would be about $150 a sheet and we would only need one. I wanted something that tied into our gray and white theme, yet offered a little color. I am daring like that. After excruciating debate, I picked the PERFECT color and we special ordered it. Three weeks later, the bill came for the Corian and it was $595. This here is called a failure to communicate. Upon further investigation, it appears that my-heightened-sense-of-design-self picked the most expensive Corian they carried. Of course I did. I can see some of you who know me well nodding your heads vigorously right now. Out of a box of 200 choices, I picked the winning one. I so should have bought a lottery ticket that day. It is the most expensive three-square-feet in our home.

Good news for me, I love it. Bad news for whoever buys this house from us, I am totally taking that damn countertop with me and selling it on the Corian blackmarket.

Attack of the gold filigree

I finally had time to find some of our house pictures pre-renovation. This is the "before" picture of our downstairs half bath. I apologize if the screen on your computer spontaneously combusts in protest of subjecting your eyes to such bad taste. I feel like I should be in the picture, sitting on the toilet in a floral housecoat. My hair would be in sponge rollers, eyes doused in blue shadow, with a Pall Mall dangling out of my mouth.

The picture does not do this gem justice. The two hanging pineapple globe lights are clearly not visible here. You also cannot see the atrocious vinyl flooring emblazened with gold swirls. Then there is that wallpaper with the fake marble print, simply glorious. I know, I can see you scratching your head wondering why we couldn't leave good enough alone.

Would you like to see what it looks like now? I think that you really need to let this picture sink in for today. If I lived with it for years, you can live with it for a day. It will be tough, I know.

I used to have a house that sparkled

Almost two years ago I quit my job in the hospitality business. When I left that job, I also left approximately 35% of my annual income with it. Overnight our disposable income packed up and boarded the first bus out of town. We stood in the dust cloud in disbelief rubbing our eyes, wondering what on earth we just did. Not only did our money take a first class ride outta here, it came on the heels of having newly added daycare expense. In our budget, the line item for daycare is titled: Making Someone Else’s Mortgage Payment.

Sure, I miss the luxuries. I miss the travel, the shopping, the dining, and the entertainment. I yearn for cute shoes, chunky jewelry, the Aveda salon, and more time at Banana Republic. Those luxuries have been replaced with play dough, bike rides to the library, blowing bubbles in the yard, and singing Ring around the Rosie at the top of my lungs. This is what I call trading up and I would not change it for the world.

So, what is the problem? Unfortunately, my ex-housekeeper refuses to work for free. Call me shallow, but this is a problem, a major problem people. I was hoping perhaps she would consider pro-bono work. No such luck. Possibly a resume builder with a guarantee that I would be an excellent reference. No such luck. A demand that all of my friends who still have money use her services. No such luck. A written contract guaranteeing that Craig and Kate will work on better aim when using the toilet. No such luck.

I'm officially screwed.

Until Renovations Do Us Part

We are entering into Operation Get This Damn House Finished. In December it will have been four years since we moved into this house. Simply stated: four years of renovation hell. Over the course of the past six years, we have worked on a few different transactions with the same realtor. When we bought this house, she said, “I love working with you guys because you have vision.” I think that is Real-Estate-ese for “You are the only ones stupid enough to consider a house this ugly.”

If you have ever been to our house, I know you have heard Craig say, “You TOLD me that we were only going to work on one room PER YEAR.” I say this with confidence because it is the soundtrack to my life. He has recorded it and has it on continual playback, echoing in my sleep. Believe me. You know, I admit that I vaguely recall some discussion of the sort. Leave it to Craig to remember the details. I am a big picture person; the details get me in trouble all.of.the.time.

In my defense, I believe that I was born missing the patience gene. I am slightly too “Type A” to believe that patience is a virtue. Also, I could not have predicted that Psycho Cat would decide that the carpet in the corner of the living room was her new litter box. I mean, we needed to start renovating that room after we tore all of the carpet out, right? I also could not have predicted that the glass-top to our stove would break. I also could not have predicted that the stove I fell in love was not really the same size as the old one, I just call that good taste. I mean, we needed to renovate the kitchen after that happened, right?

The house is about 70% complete and if I have to look at one more unfinished project in that house, I might be tempted pull out my hair and then start all over. If that happens, Craig will be joining the witness protection program. Since I’d like to keep him around, we are going to work on getting the remaining 30% done instead. If you tell Craig that other husband’s do not do this much work around their house, you are as good as dead to me. For the record, he still does not know that many other husbands’ don’t cook, clean, or go grocery shopping. Those will be our little secrets, okay?

I am excited to share renovation pictures with you along the way. I am going to find my old hard drive and get some before pictures. You truly cannot appreciate the “after” until you have seen the “before”. I will title the photo album: Proof that I Have the World’s Best and Most Patient Husband.