The True Price Tag of Overhauling Your Entire HomeRenovation Slip-Ups You'll Hate — and How to Avoid Them 86

A few years ago, I stood in the dark stretch between rooms and realized I hated it. Not in a “burn it down” kind of way. More like when you stop liking something without noticing. Like cheap coffee, or a shirt that never quite fits.

It was dim, and there was this awkward spot where the paint peeled like dry pastry. Just a wall. But somehow it felt like it was part of the issue. Of what? No idea. Everything, maybe.

I didn't set out to redo the house. I planned to fix the peeling. Maybe clean the skirting. Then I nudged some old panelling, and underneath… well. Swirly beige. Looked like it belonged in a van. The kind of wallpaper that makes you step back.

And that's how they get you. You pull one thread, and the house gives in like it was ready.

Next thing I knew, I was Googling things I'd never heard of. Caulking guns. I developed obsessions for undercoat brands. I joined forums like it was a sport. Still don't know why one caulking gun's $12 and another's $48, but I'll fight you over which is better.

But this wasn't just about making it pretty. It was about admitting something felt wrong, and that I was done adjusting. I used to sidestep a creaky floorboard by the bathroom even after I fixed it. Muscle memory is stubborn like that.

Some days went well. Some didn't. I once installed a light switch upside down and didn't notice for weeks. Only realized it when my sister flipped it and asked why “off” turned the light *on*.

But that's part of the ride. You curse, and then suddenly the space feels… yours. Not perfect. Not staged. But not borrowed anymore. That wall? more info Still narrow. And the paint line by the stairs? Wobbly. But it's something I chose.

It's not about what your neighbour just did. It's about saying no to stuff that makes you sigh at 7am. If you hang the art too high, just call it character. That's what I do. Or at least that's what I tell guests.