the blue house: bathroom renovation

This house has a story I am dying to know. One that started in 1904. It was originally a neighbourhood built for families who worked at the railyard nearby, back when Ramsay and Inglewood were the centre of the city. Who has lived here since? What stories would they tell? What made them laugh, what made them cry, what kept them up at night? Who put up the child’s wallpaper in the room that now belongs to the boys? This is what I love about old houses; the way their walls are filled with layers of lives already lived.

We came together owning two homes, neither of which particularly worked for all of us to live in. So we went back and forth a million times. Sell both. Live in one or the other. Build. Rent out one or both. Sell it all and live on the road. At first we laughed about fitting all 4 of us and a soon to be puppy into 700 square feet, but as none of the options felt right that one started to feel more and more perfect. The most beautiful challenge. A chance to only bring what we loved. A chance to gut a home and choose all the finishes and build something that would work for us but was also an investment. And so that is how the blue house became all of ours, and how it became the black house. The boys and I have gone from 2500 square feet, to 1200 and now to 700, and I can say with absolute certainty I do not miss one square foot. We only have what we love and use. Everything has a home. It takes 10 minutes to clean. We tidy every day to keep it functional. We do not bring in anything that doesn’t have a specific purpose. We get to constantly be close, and when we need a break there is a whole world waiting for us.

We renovated every corner of this home. Walls were torn to studs, floors ripped up, bathroom was an empty shell. We chose everything and did all the work ourselves aside from exterior painting and a small bit of plumbing. I can’t wait to share it all, but am starting with the bathroom. And while we are still working on the last few finishing things, it is so so nice to come home to a place we built ourselves over a summer. A summer of warm nights, music playing, covered in dirt, forgetting to eat, and working until we fell exhausted into bed every night. It was the best summer of my life.