The Renovating Reverend

The carpet in our new old place was showing wear and shedding like a big, hairy dog, so it really needed to go. It took us a while to decide what to replace it with. We finally settled on vinyl plank in the high-traffic areas, and carpet in rooms where it will have the most impact on comfort and acoustics.

My husband took on the task of removing the worn carpet and tack strips in the areas where I would put down planks. His work revealed concrete slab with an occasional splash of paint, the odd hairline crack, and sulfur-colored stains from the 1970’s carpet pad adhesive. It wasn’t a very pretty sight. But, then again, the “bones” of any home that’s been lived in for a while are sure to have a grimy sort of character. Older houses can have a lot dust and crud that has filtered into the walls, or degraded and fallen from the wall material itself. After all, it wasn’t until somewhat recently that houses began to be built “tight,” with house wrap and good insulation. Heck, open up a wall in a century home (100+ years old), and you may even discover a growing vine, like Steve did back when we were working on a Victorian in the oldest part of town.

I’m not sure why, but I always have a strong reaction to seeing what’s behind the surfaces of a house. There’s such a contrast between the combination of dusty studs, tangled wiring, and cruddy pipe connections, and the smooth coherence of tile, drywall, and paint. Even more amazing is the realization that the bones of some very expensive houses aren’t very different from those of more affordable homes. After stripping the places down to the studs, most of the differences are on the surface. Underneath, one isn’t any stronger or better than the other. Underneath, they both have dust, crud, and the occasional growing vine.

Having the aforementioned reaction while looking at our concrete slab, I was reminded of the 12-Step slogan, “Don’t compare your insides to anyone else’s outsides.” Just like houses, we all have some metaphorical crud, sawdust, and left-over bits of wood framing in our walls. For all we know, that well-put-together looking person we admire is actually full of rusty pipes, rotting studs, tangled wiring…self-hatred, fear, and regret. Or, conversely, that broken-down looking person may have one or more untold treasures hidden inside their walls…generosity, joy, and compassion.

The scuzzy concrete beneath the flooring is just another reminder that we can’t tell much by looking at surfaces, that we need to look beyond appearances – and that it’s healthy to appreciate and mind our own property, instead of always comparing it with everyone else’s.