We’re undergoing a remodeling project at the house and I’ve obviously pushed the boundaries too far. My husband has now declared that if he ever gets the contractors out of his house, he will never let them back in. They’re doing a great job, and that’s just the problem. They do things so quickly and magically that my list of “while you’re here…” has gotten longer and longer as my excitement at Fixing Annoying Things builds to a fever pitch. Meanwhile, he just sees an itemized service ticket with “cha-ching” after every entry.

I’m so darn excited that we are finally taking dominion of this house and wrestling it into submission. At last I will take a visitor upstairs without my usual tour guide routine, “We want to make this into a such-and-so one day.” For years I’ve felt like I needed one of those built-to-scale models under a glass case to prove that we really do have plans. I won’t have to explain anymore that what you’re seeing doesn’t reflect my real tastes (you never thought so, did you?) and that, yes, I realize there is a lot of wasted space up here. All that potential will be manifest!

The project is not that grand, just reconfiguring a series of small choppy rooms into an office, a media room (essential for the husband’s buy-in) and a little wet bar that can be Baptist or Episcopalian, depending on whether the wine bottles are in view. We’ve waited so long to do this – starting back when contractors were too busy to call back, let alone schedule the project – to now, when their best subs are available for work.

So I don’t even care that I’ve blown my sofa budget on a tile backsplash and a fabulous wall-mount faucet (a steal at Mazer’s).

Please overlook the sling lawn chairs you are sitting in, as they don’t reflect my real tastes. One day I want to furnish this room with a linen-covered sofa and a big leather ottoman…