Much Ado About Drywall

The world is divided into two types of people: (a) those who are willing to undertake costly and time-consuming renovations, in the hopes of increasing the functionality and/or value of their home and (b) those who are sane. I am, of course, in group A.

I’ve already put my home—which is a youthful 220-years-old—through a series of grueling renovations (grueling for me, anyway). My goal is to restore this old home to its former glory. My hope is that I don’t end up starring in a sequel to The Money Pit by the time I’m done.

Now, I’m facing the biggest job. The one that promises to be the most disruptive, the most expensive and the most soul-sucking of all: The kitchen, laundry room and powder room.

That chunk of the house may have been glorious back when indoor plumbing was invented. But thanks to subsequent renovations, its original solid wood doors, deep baseboards, crown molding and beautiful trim are gone. In their place is a less classy version of the kitchen featured in That ‘70s Show. Yes, I even have the green cabinets and peeling, square-edged laminate countertops.

But my reasons for tackling this insanity-inducing project go far beyond vanity. Here’s what I would like:

*I’d like to get rid of the thermocline. Insulation wasn’t on anyone’s radar when this house was built. The laundry room functions as a second fridge in the winter, and there’s a hole behind the bathroom cabinet that’s large enough to let in a steady stream of fresh air—and mice.

*I’d like to end the ToxicPalooza. In the ceiling, behind the paneling, inside the cupboards…asbestos tiles and lead paint are everywhere.

*I’d like to walk gracefully. There are four layers of laminate flooring on top of the original wood. If you don’t pick up your feet—really pick up your feet—you’ll trip and stagger into the kitchen like a drunk. I know, because I’ve done it. Many times.

*I’d like the plumbing to work. When the toilets plug, sewage flows into our kitchen pantry. Enough said.

*I’d like the electrical outlets to be…out. A previous owner must have thought electricity was scary and should be hidden. Most of the electrical outlets are tucked away deep in the cupboards. As an added security measure, most of them don’t work.

*I’d like the walls to stop talking. Okay, the walls don’t talk, but they do rattle, thanks to a mysterious pipe in the walls that does nothing useful, but bounces around wildly whenever the wind blows.

So it’s official. I’m looking for a kitchen designer—someone who will gut, fix and rebuild those three rooms. It will likely mean three months of eating sandwiches in the garage, peeing in the yard and telling the kids to turn their underwear inside out, but I’m ready. If this goes badly, look for me in The Money Pit sequel.