Design On A Whine - Part 2

Ahhhhhhh. The question has been asked. Thank you, Gregg. If you read the comments from my last blog you will see our good friend Gregg dropped by and asked me to explain, to the best of my limited knowledge, precisely why it is that we don't dress up, renovate, and repair our homes until it is time to sell them, thus depriving ourselves of enjoying the upgrades. Thanks for throwing it out there my friend. Honestly, the answer is not that elusive.

No one makes us.

Yeah, it's that simple. I knew that my laundry room floor looked ... undesirable. Who cares? It's a laundry room. I've even heard them called "mud rooms." Who am I to defy generations of tradition and de-mud the mudroom? No way. I respect my ancestral chain.

When I was in college I supported my family for a while by installing storm doors and windows on the south side of Chicago. For the past couple of years only about 8 screws have anchored my back storm door. The "closure" was destroyed in a windstorm. The anchor chain that used to be at the top was ripped out too. The only reason it stayed on the house was because it was afraid I'd throw it in the garbage if it fell off. And I would have too. Tonight I have a lovely new storm door on the houses backside. Nobody can see it but it's there. Hip-hip-ha-ray!

There are rooms being painted and trim being replaced. A new light is mounted in the shower bathroom. All of the carpets have been cleaned. There is more ... much more ... to come. Tonight an old friend came by. Cindy is an expert mover. We met her and her husband Bob in 1984 when they moved into our burg. Since then they have lived in 7 different cities. They now live about 50 miles from us and Debbie asked her to come over tonight and tell us what we need to do to sell our house fast. Cindy left 3 pages of notes. Poor Bob has had a hard life.

But let's get real for a second. I stand to make a few extra thousand dollars by doing all of this home repair. The de-cluttering will pay off. The new paint slapped on over the old stuff won't hurt. But that isn't really why we do it. ("We" being men. Husbands. Guys.) We do it because somebody makes us. We like sleeping in the big bed. We enjoy getting to hold the remote control. It is nice to get home made cookies every now and then. And yes, we will paint and clean and install and trim and repair and do just about a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g else we are told to do in order to make certain the goodies keep on coming!

I could have lied. I could have said it was about integrity. Making sure the new owners get the best house available, the best bang for their buck. But honestly I'm trying to take them for all they've got. I want to spend nothing and make everything. I could have said it was purely about the money. But I have to use the money on another house. Seriously, I have to. Or the taxman goes berserk. And we can't have that happening, no can we? No sir, we can't. If I could use the money for a new 60" flat screen HDTV I would be MUCH MORE INCLINED to get the jobs done right and with appropriate haste. If I could perhaps invest it in a new motorcycle you would see me hanging out at the hardware store night and day. If I could buy any laptop I wanted with the money Lowe's would name a wing after me.

But I am going to spend it on another house. Another house that I will someday have to paint and repair and dress up. To sell. So that I can buy another house.

Do you see a trend here?

So there it is Gregg. The honest truth.

And honey ... love of my life ... wife of my dreams (yes, really) ... I don't do it just for you. I do it for us. And for the kids. Even though two thirds of them don't live with us anymore. Hey, have you considered that maybe we could use the money to buy a houseboat and set-up our personal effects there? We could point it toward any island you want and hang out until we got bored and then point it somewhere else. If it starts to rain we'll sail away so we don't really need to worry about fixing the roof. The "weathered look" works on a boat so paint won't be necessary too often. And storm doors? Come on. Get real. You ever see a storm door on a boat? I'll trade you the flat screen for a chance to cruise to Key West. You can call me Gilligan and I'll call you Mary Ann. Or, if you prefer, I'll be Thurston and you can be Lovey.

I know, I know. It was just a thought.

(PS. Hi Nicole!)