EDITOR’S NOTE: A big part of any designer”s job is informing the client about The Process. Whether dealing with acres of commercial lease space or a modest personal residence, clients desperately want to believe in the Bewitched method of project management: a little twitch of the nose and all is magically complete. From unseen structural problems to important consultant”s fees, from outrageous lead-times to obscure code issues, from inevitable construction delays to the occasional lost cat (just read on), it”s the designer”s obligation to prepare the client for just how unglamorous the whole thing can be. 

PLOT SUMMARY: When last we left Client Debra, Designer Rob had wowed her with his Design District domination and selection savvy. He did exactly what a design consultant should do: direct her focus, set her at ease and attempt to prepare her and her husband for the not-so-fun part: The Remodel.

The Remodel Diary of Debra Brennan Tagg

Day T-3 (and counting)
Meeting with Rob and David (Rob”s assistant and contractor). David confirms the final details they need to start the demolition phase of the project. The project demo will take a week, and we will need to move out of the house in two weeks, barring any surprises they find. (Remember those words.)

Rob presents the color palette. Very pale blue for the walls in the living room, den, and dining room. Pale tan for the kitchen, front hall and wall that extends to the second floor with the stairs. Chocolate velvet for the settee. Pale beige chenille for the fancy couch. Pillows in a deep peach pattern, and others in a seafoam stripe. Fabulous art accents here and there. I am in love. I look to my husband, who has a look of horror on his face.

He says, “I”m going to try to be clear about this. I hate, loathe, and seethe when I see that shade of blue.” Subtle. The issue goes back to an old aunt”s house that was baby blue in every room. I advise him that this is not baby blue but a very sophisticated pale blue. Unfortunately when we look at it in the room, it”s baby blue. Back to the drawing board.

Day T-1 (and anxiously counting)
We spend the day packing rooms that I consider to be insignificant. The den, the kitchen desk drawers of crap, the “mail” table. Prior to the packing I consider how nice it will be to have these cluttered pieces of my life packed away. As I actually pack them away, I realize how right Rob is about this being an emotional process. I mean, I never cared about the abundance of little dark brown rubber pads that we have to put under furniture legs. But here I am packing them away. What will I do if I need them” Should I have used them before now” Microcosmic inquiries such as these will plague me for the duration of this project.

Day 1
The day we”ve been waiting for! No one shows up. Why did I pack half of my life until midnight last night”

Day 2
A roll of tape shows up on our counter.

Day 3
We are going out of town. We call the designer to tell him that “SOME SERIOUS WORK BETTER BE DONE BEFORE WE GET HOME OR WE WILL BE VERY UPSET.” You see, we”ve been told we have to stay on top of our contractor.

Days 4 & 5
I am skiing and drinking hot toddies. I am happy. I silence people when they ask how things are going at home.

Day 6
I arrive home at 7pm in the dark, just in time to run off to a fundraising gala. My husband is still skiing. I trip over the vast pile of lumber on my deck and wonder where the hell it came from and where the hell it”s going. I find my refrigerator sideways in the middle of my kitchen, the door about six inches from the counter. Little do I know that I will fight with this six inches for weeks just to get soy milk on my granola every morning. As I drag my suitcase upstairs, I catch something askew out of the corner of my eye in the dining room. I turn on the lights and find my oven / microwave unit between the table and the sideboard. Alright, I see how this works. I walk the remainder of the house and find my kitchen cabinets in the den, the den bookshelves in the living room, and half of my tile shower in my bedroom. I”m no contractor, but doesn”t this seem like a lot more work than is necessary”

Day 7
Paul arrives home, and I lead him through the battlefield. He is just not annoyed, and that really irritates me.

Day 8
The trash pile from our deck is loaded into a trash trailer (think 4 pieces of plywood held together by blue tape). The trailer is moved to the front of our house, where it will remain for weeks, if not months. The neighbors love this.

Day 9
No visible work is done. I am told that they will know in 2 days when we need to move out of the house.

Day 10
Our contractor tells us our carpenters had to be pulled to finish another job but will definitely be there tomorrow.

Day 11
Carpenters show up at 4pm and work until 7pm. Does that count as a full day”s work since it is almost entirely overtime”

Day 12
I meet with the contractor at the house. He needs to “show me some things”. The carpenters found termite damage under the house when pulling up the wooden floor. Do we want to do the expensive fix or the inexpensive fix” I decide on the expensive fix since we just repaired the foundation and are embarking on a significant remodel. I can tell already that I will not want to do this again for a long, long time. If my wall falls off the house because we took the cheap option, that would just be asinine.

Day 13
I am at a yoga seminar all day while my husband, brother and friend move all of our furniture to a storage space. I come home to a nearly empty house. I really didn”t consider how hard this day would be for me before the project started. It actually didn”t occur to me before the last design meeting that we would have to literally move out of the house. Though it is only a few months, I really like my “stuff” and start counting down the days until I see it again.

Day 14
It”s Sunday. Thank God for a day of rest. Unfortunately there”s no place to do that in my house. I go to work at my office to stay away.