The Perfect Storm

We were a third of the way into our remodel and up to our necks in some of the most stressful situations any family can encounter, when my world went straight down our brand new Toto toilet - the one with legendary flushing performance.

My 52-year-old husband, had suggested we remodel our post-war home to create a master suite downstairs. I was a remodel virgin. Our home was the only one I’ve ever owned and I felt some trepidation about the construction costs because I didn’t know how substantial my freelance copywriting income was going to be. But he told me not to worry, we’d pay for it out of our equity. He sold me by saying not only would the remodel increase the value of our home, but, it could help pay for our retirement. That sounded good to me. My father had just died, and he’d had very little money to cover his assisted living.

When you plan a remodel you have high hopes. You spend months drawing up the blueprints. You agonize over the selection of the bathroom tile, light fixtures, flooring, towel racks, windows, and paint colors. You pray the walls will be plumb, the tile work even, the floors level. You hope the contractor won’t screw you. And while it’s a torturous process, with fine dust choking you, stuff piled up to the ceiling, and your backyard looking like New Orleans after Katrina, you fantasize about how great it will be to finally enjoy what you’ve worked so hard for.