This Old House
I haven't really mentioned here the thing that has been taking up a lot of our weekends. A couple months ago, my sister and her husband approached Jade and I about renting out a unit in the lower half of their newly-purchased Victorian in Alameda. It needs a little work, so they asked us for our input into the design of the 2 bedroom we'd be renting downstairs. We saw the first set of architect's designs, which Jade then used to create the floor plan for our unit. We've provided opinions on door design, cabinetry, hardware, appliances, and more. On Christmas day, we visited the unit for the first time since construction started, and we saw the frame-work for the design Jade had created. I think that more than anything else has really driven home the point that our decisions are affecting the project in tangible ways.
There have been frustrations, to be sure. The original costs were based on estimates from a contractor later revealed to be a significant risk to the project. And since those costs were so low, the original design shown to us was correspondingly complex and ambitious. In the course of working with the architect a new contractor was contacted, and immediately the real costs became apparent. Features were scrapped, plans redrawn, luxuries discarded. The ultimate plan is much more simple, less elegant, slightly less functional, yet teasingly similar to the initial grand scheme.
I never fully appreciated how meaningful the placement of a door could be, until I couldn't put it where I wanted. Features shift subtly on the whims of Code and necessities of Budget, until the current layout only vaguely resembles the idealized original. The outlines are the same, but the details are a muddied bog of compromise and disillusionment. More than once, Jade and I have turned to each other and wondered aloud if we'd been sold a bill of goods; been bait-and-switched by family.
However, it's difficult to harbor ill-feelings toward my sister and brother-in-law. They, too, have been forced to compromise on their dreams, and to a much further extent than us. We'll move into an entirely brand-new unit, with a finished kitchen and newly-tiled bathroom, while they have been forced to scrap almost all of the improvements to the upstairs unit in favor of finishing the rental units. For a year or so, my sister won't have real cabinets in her kitchen. They're installing a new bathroom, but it's a temporary affair intended to last a few years until they can afford the design they really want. Other major work has been postponed or eliminated from the plan altogether.
So we've all been let down. It's so very difficult to be grateful for what we're getting when we still remember what we thought we had. But we are grateful. They've given us an extraordinary amount of freedom to design and appoint our unit. They've sacrificed their own vision in favor of supporting ours. I can't imagine another landlord doing as much for their tenants.
Even though the end result pales when compared to the original design, it really isn't bad. It's quite good, and I'd be happy to live there whether or not I'd designed the thing myself. And I'm excited at the prospect of living near my sister and her husband, with whom we get along quite well. I cannot wait for this whole process of decisions and compromises to be behind us. It's a source of stress we could do without, and I really just want to move into this great space in a dynamic neighborhood with fun neighbors. That can't happen soon enough.
There have been frustrations, to be sure. The original costs were based on estimates from a contractor later revealed to be a significant risk to the project. And since those costs were so low, the original design shown to us was correspondingly complex and ambitious. In the course of working with the architect a new contractor was contacted, and immediately the real costs became apparent. Features were scrapped, plans redrawn, luxuries discarded. The ultimate plan is much more simple, less elegant, slightly less functional, yet teasingly similar to the initial grand scheme.
I never fully appreciated how meaningful the placement of a door could be, until I couldn't put it where I wanted. Features shift subtly on the whims of Code and necessities of Budget, until the current layout only vaguely resembles the idealized original. The outlines are the same, but the details are a muddied bog of compromise and disillusionment. More than once, Jade and I have turned to each other and wondered aloud if we'd been sold a bill of goods; been bait-and-switched by family.
However, it's difficult to harbor ill-feelings toward my sister and brother-in-law. They, too, have been forced to compromise on their dreams, and to a much further extent than us. We'll move into an entirely brand-new unit, with a finished kitchen and newly-tiled bathroom, while they have been forced to scrap almost all of the improvements to the upstairs unit in favor of finishing the rental units. For a year or so, my sister won't have real cabinets in her kitchen. They're installing a new bathroom, but it's a temporary affair intended to last a few years until they can afford the design they really want. Other major work has been postponed or eliminated from the plan altogether.
So we've all been let down. It's so very difficult to be grateful for what we're getting when we still remember what we thought we had. But we are grateful. They've given us an extraordinary amount of freedom to design and appoint our unit. They've sacrificed their own vision in favor of supporting ours. I can't imagine another landlord doing as much for their tenants.
Even though the end result pales when compared to the original design, it really isn't bad. It's quite good, and I'd be happy to live there whether or not I'd designed the thing myself. And I'm excited at the prospect of living near my sister and her husband, with whom we get along quite well. I cannot wait for this whole process of decisions and compromises to be behind us. It's a source of stress we could do without, and I really just want to move into this great space in a dynamic neighborhood with fun neighbors. That can't happen soon enough.