My home is undergoing a rebirth. It’s painful, long and decidedly unpredictable.
Most people might call it a renovation. But it’s more than that. It’s a new incarnation of what was formerly four walls and a roof into a home.
The rebirth is born of necessity — a leaky roof, drafty windows and stained broadloom carpet that harbored more than I wanted to consider within its fibers…
When my husband and I bought our first place, my answer to that question would have been 440 square feet per person.
We had everything we needed in that space, including a spare bedroom for guests and enough “party space” for gatherings with friends. But it didn’t take long before the lure of our first house — an 1800s Victorian — made us feel as if we needed to double our living area to 925 square feet per person. (Sound familiar?)
Right now, I am living with 4 plates, 1 mug, 7 spoons, 2 books, 1 sofa, 4 folding chairs and a folding table, a mattress on the floor and the rest of the basics to get me, my husband and our almost-3-year-old through January in our temporary apartment.
All the rest of our stuff is on a ship crossing the Atlantic from Sweden.