Are you happy? Better yet, what does happiness mean to you?
I, myself, have been on [what seems like] a ceaseless quest for happiness and am hell-bent to infuse that quality into every aspect of my life. Sometimes one finds happiness where one least expects it. What follows is the retelling of my most recent adventure in ordering happiness into one's life.
Earlier this year [2015], I decided to tackle not one but two major [and life-changing] household projects at the very same time: the renovation of my upstairs bathroom and the retrofit of the collapsed entry stairs to my home; projects that were on the backburner for more years than I care to remember. Over the previous decades, finances lagged as I built my business by reinvesting every penny - which meant that both projects were put on hold again and again as I steadfastly reassured myself that the work would commence at yet another unspecified date.
Meanwhile, the neighbors remained patient with the incredible long-standing visual chaos of the dilapidated entry stairs but, gnawing at me was the emotionally crippling sensation that a home half-finished meant a life half-lived as well. Leaving home every day, the drive to work became a studied exercise in strategizing how to make a remodel a priority. The solution that I ultimately touched on would seem, to most, like such an obvious one. And so at night instead of counting sheep I spent those last drowsy moments counting the number of new architectural and ADA access compliance projects that I would need to bring in in order to afford the luxury of a revived (and happy) homestead.
Fast forward to the completion of this massive project. (Yes, I managed to finally get it built!) But let me tell you the history as it's still quite vivid in my mind.
At the beginning of 2015 I initiated the two renovation projects - slated for the same timeframe - and took off without looking back. Peter Vit, a Czech craftsman and my friend, who visits the United States for several weeks every year and has helped me with my home for many years, suggested that we begin work on the bathroom and set a date for it to happen. (Please understand that before this, our projects were always small and completed within a short period of time.)
So it came to pass, that I methodically moved forward creating detailed drawings for the entry stairs, complete with precise structural calculations, and construction drawings, and seemingly threw caution to the wind as I gave only minor thought and even less attention to the interior space. Resolved to address any issues during construction, I thought I might get by with just a few rough sketches that detailed the redesign of the bathroom. Major miscalculation! As an architect whose services are called upon to study a space in minute detail and compose full-size drawings to exacting dimension: what was I thinking? Obviously, this was a lesson I had to learn. The hard way.
Renovating the bathroom without a complete set of construction drawings caused a haphazard workflow, cost overruns and an increased workload! One by one a series of surprises befell me: upon opening the walls electrical wiring dating from the thirties and ancient plumbing revealed itself and meant that the work would require completely new installations. To compound the situation, my house tilts two inches towards the adjacent hillside. Of course, Peter, expert and wise tile artist that he is, shared the cautionary tale time and time again, that the tile base would not fit. Tenaciously, Peter and I worked together on finding solutions - over what seemed like days without end - specifying the tile details, incorporating new plumbing and electrical connections, and leveling the floor so that the tile would set flat. (Of course this meant raising the floor a full three inches and leveling the ceiling as well. Sigh.)
My hard work in advance of the reconstruction of the entry stairs, however, paid off in a project that proceeded well (despite the discovery of a broken pipe - an issue swiftly resolved!). The only surprise that struck a discordant note was the sheer amount of concrete that it would eventually take to secure the structural integrity of the stairs of my hillside house.
Throughout the ordeal of this undertaking the house was in constant upheaval, a mess, in other words, where a thin layer of plaster dust touched every surface - including my clothes. The added task of serving as the construction contractor both stressed and challenged me on a daily basis. But, after all this was my project and therefore, my responsibility. As the adage goes: the buck stops here - with me. Trips to the hardware store for supplies became an evening habit and another stressor. The search for the right tub (with several shipping in and out again just as quickly: all unacceptable), became routine. Finally, one tub remained - one that I indeed love!
Today the renovation is complete and I am so happy. This was a team effort and I would love to thank everyone who made it happen: Stair Renovation: Cypress Homes, Moe Nabari; Bathroom Renovation: Peter Vit and Victor Evaschuk. As for the cost? Can one really put a price on happiness? Yet, this I know for certain: architecture has the power to heal and soothe the soul. At its finest, architecture will center and help one function to the best of one's abilities.
Not only am I buoyed by the lofty sense of accomplishment of a job well done, but a calm and peacefulness has replaced the chaos and is reshaping my newly found joy of life one moment after another. It's as though I were being rehabilitated in my own way now that the house has finally experienced its very own resurrection of sorts.
As the cobbler with his new shoes, I guess the architect now has a new home.
