Renovating for Resale: What House Hunters Are Really Looking For10 Clues It's Time to Renovate Your Property 53

Renovating for Resale: What House Hunters Are Really Looking For10 Clues It's Time to Renovate Your Property 53

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That tap wasn't even broken. Just temperamental. You had to nudge it slightly left and then back into position to get non-freezing water. If you went too far, it'd let out a weird sound. Not deafening, but sharp — like a rusty hinge with opinions. I put up with it for years. Blamed the pipes. Blamed the building. Blamed everything except the fact that I hadn't done anything.

One rainy evening, I was home before dark, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I am tired of this space.

It wasn't a breakdown. More like a slow itch that had finally spread to my ribs. The drawers were loose, the bench was basically decorative, and the cupboard door slammed my face every time I bent down. I'd started to flinch early.

I pulled out a receipt back and wrote “replace kitchen faucet” at the top. Beneath that: “longer bench,” then “this wiring makes no sense” The question mark wasn't sarcastic. The switch really was hidden like a prank.

I told myself I'd start small. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the aisle of chaos three days later, being stared at by brushed nickel options, I somehow ended up with tile samples under my arm. And then came the mess.

I didn't get help. I probably should've. Instead, I borrowed a sledgehammer from my friend Rory, who said, “Don't aim at anything alive.” Not exactly the instruction manual, but I got started.

Taking down get more info that ugly shelf felt like the beginning of something. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that lived with forehead bruises.

The chaos spiraled. Not in a disaster way, just... as you'd expect. I spent three hours debating grout colors. Got into a minor argument with a guy on a Reddit thread about silicone gaps. I still don't really trust epoxy, but I'm convinced he was probably guessing.

And the new tap? Still isn't silent. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've given up.

It's not magazine-worthy. The tile near the bin's not square, and the outlet by the toaster leans left. But when I walk in, I don't duck. That alone is something.

And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, says a lot.