When my husband and I bought our apartment at the beginning of this year I was overwhelmed with excitement. I busily occupied myself with things like what color we would paint the kid’s room, how to furnish the guest room and whether or not the terrace would work as an occasional substitute for the back yard I myself had once grown up with. I took pictures of every house I entered and spent hours ripping out pages in magazine’s looking for the latest in interior design. Little did I know what was actually awaiting me..
In America you buy a house, you move into house. You bring your furniture but usually and I may be way off on this, but usually the toilets are included. Here it’s a whole different story. A very long, long story, that has a beginning but no freaking end.
The truth is most of the apartments you buy in the city need some renovations and ours was no different. A real fixer upper, a jewel just waiting to be unmasked, a precious little treasure with never-ending possibilities, a dream home. An apartment that no one in their right mind would ever consider buying.
Our little fixer upper turned out to need a full over haul, as in knock down walls, and start all over again type of over haul. I had to choose everything as in: toilets, faucets, flooring, windows, doors, door handles, what kind of lights, what kind of light switches, AND LETS NOT FORGET ABOUT THE BIDETS. (I will definitely be speaking about that subject more sooner than later) All of this which of course would be loads of fun if you were say, an architect.
The good thing is (and please note there is ALWAYS A GOOD THING IN MY STORIES) eight months later I’m actually quite happy that I took very few ‘before’ pictures. Mostly because if I had, right about now I’d be throwing myself off that precious little terrace.
The work has gone at a depressingly slow rate, and has even come to a complete halt a number of times because of the bureaucratic bombs delivered to us from some of our new neighbors (HAVEN’T THESE PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF A BASKET OF FREAKING FRUIT?) So now on the cusp of our big moving date AND with Christmas to bat, I’m thinking where the hell is that tall cute guy from extreme makeover when you need him? If nothing else maybe HE COULD BRING A BASKET OF FRUIT to OUR NEW NEIGHBORS!