One of the major things I miss about living close to my friend Erin is our little (and big) projects. We were just constantly deciding that we wanted to try things, and then doing them. All by ourselves. And they usually worked out! (I'd venture that our success rate has far more to do with Erin than with me, but I'm happy to bask in the residual glory.)
Like remember that time we just went ahead and transformed the exterior brick on my house?
Our old (old, old) living room, 2009.
Several lifetimes ago (by my count), I wrote my first of what turned out to be hundreds of posts that loosely fall into the "Diary" category - the missives about parenting, about anxiety, about divorce that I've posted here over the years. This first one, though, was about something a little different. A little more...tactile.
It was about my living room. The living room that I shared with Kendrick (and Lucy, and then later on Virgil and our infant son) when we lived on the Upper East Side. It was a wild, messy mix of hand-me-downs from my parents, pieces we'd found discarded on the street and fixed up with varying degrees of success, and the occasional element of inexplicable drama (chalkboard fridge! graffiti-covered chest of drawers! insane bird wallpaper!).
My house, all staged and ready to be sold.
Here's a fun little career development as of late: I've started doing digital marketing and strategy for realtors. Mostly what that means is that I help them develop their digital channels - SEO optimize their websites, establish their social aesthetic, etc etc - but in the cases of clients that are local, I've also been helping with the actual, physical, staging-of-spaces in advance of photographing them and putting them on the market.
Couch | Pillows | Top Rug (machine-washable) | Bottom Rug
Alright, so fiiiiiiine, the white family-room couch wasn't my smartest-ever purchase. I rationalized it because a) it's Ikea, and that's where my budget tapped out, b) there was only one Ikea style that I really liked, and c) that one style only came in dark grey (too dark), pink (too pink), turquoise (just no) and - yes - white.
But I figured we'd be able to collectively hold it together for at least the minimum of two years that I feel like you should be able to get out of an Ikea sofa. ...Right?
Oh heyyyyyy
I spent yesterday in Malibu, doing a little renovation consult for a friend who recently purchased a trailer home right on the ocean (more on the trailer home thing in a bit; it's a super cool story). It's an interesting undertaking, because the house is going to be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up in a couple of years, so the renovation is more about making the house pretty and livable for the short term, without spending tons of money on things that'll ultimately end up getting tossed.
So. My advice was to figure out what amount of money per month was a comfortable amount to spend on general Life Happiness (meaning an amount that creates no financial stress whatsoever, but that feels "worth it" for the lifestyle improvements it'll confer), and multiply that by 24 to arrive at a budget for the mini-reno that'll take him through the next two years. Certain things are OK to spend a little more on, IMO - appliances that'll make the jump to the new place, and so forth. But when it comes to structural features, things are a little trickier.
