Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House

Our house was woeful when we moved in at the end of April this year. Though the structure was sound the thirty-year-old cobbled, bandaged casework and plumbing fixtures were beyond salvaging. It smelled bad.

We thought we knew what we were getting into. And intended to heed strictly to the ubiquitous advice to keep the hammers and saws in stow until we had a couple months under the roof but we Just. Could. Not. Handle. It.

So, we set in play a reno juggernaut for which we were only somewhat prepared. Mentally or financially.

I work half the time from home. One of the first things I learned during this experience is that once you have given over your house to the contractor your workspace transitions to theirs. Immediately and completely.  What does that look like?  The toilet seat default is up. Any household item to which you do not hold fast will be stashed somewhere in a room corner that is out of the way and unrecoverable. Sudden deafening tool screeches and thumps in the middle of conference calls. Music genres to which you are unaccustomed. Ram board floors.

I feel fortunate that about half of the time we that we were without indoor plumbing and a kitchen we were travelling visiting accounts.  This was respite from the trades barrage.

I walk in to an account and it’s “hey, how are you and wow it’s been a hot summer and what’s new with you and family” small talk. And then the topic of home renovations comes up and there is nothing that cements common ground faster other than air travel horror stories.

[Sidebar:  After finishing up meetings in Ottawa last week thought to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and walk over to 24 Sussex, the prime minister’s former official residence.  In my mind, I was also framing our home reno as, well it could be worse. According to the CBC the National Capital Commission requires about $37 million to fix up but at least it is now free of rats and asbestos.]

So, Mr. Blandings…..  I come home tired and jet lagged. Just want an uncomplicated, evening with a movie. Criteria: no car chases, no shoot ups, no love stories. I Google films about renovations and “Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House” pops up.

In every woke way, this 1940’s comedy does not age well.  Carey Grant plays a white, middle class account executive who decides to move his family out of their New York apartment into the country and finds himself drowning at every turn including financially. He is saved at the end by the family’s black maid salvaging his career for which she is marginally recognized and compensated for.

Still, it’s an entertaining watch.  And the funny parts were the universal truths about embarking on a renovation journey.

Even with the best project management, one minor issue inevitably leads to a larger more expensive one. Living in dust, mud and chaos and expensively setting up camp wherever you can to escape it when untenable. The super scary scaping of the budget bottom.

But there is something else, too. Maybe not everyone’s experience but definitively ours.

This house had a sadness about it when we moved in.  It was palpable.

We found a contractor in May who has earned our respect and trust since then. He and his team have been transforming this place with skill, exertion, goodwill and humour.  And they seem to get as much happiness and gratification from the transformation as we do.

There is something intimate about inviting in and giving custody of your house to people hoping, believing that they understand and honour your vision.

Rob and his team are helping us make this a home and the energy they bring into it is changing the vibe from melancholy to hopeful, bright and joyful.  Exactly the environment in which to welcome family and friends.

This experience has left us feeling fortunate, impressed, inspired and grateful.