Today I have a sense of triumphant exhaustion.
Such is the life of a DIYer. A weekend warrior who happens to also sacrifice many weekday evenings as well. Little to show for the efforts but a tremendous sense of victory having won a minor battle amidst the chaos of a full scale war.
This feeling has nothing to do with finishing a project. It's not caused by a major breakthrough or significant accomplishment. No legendary blog posts were penned. And it has no roots in the fact the Browns finally beat the Ravens yesterday afternoon (though that was really nice).
Though all of the above is very true, I woke up this morning with an aching back, beat up hands, tired eyes, and an odd feeling of anticipatory butterflies in my stomach. Why? Because this weekend I started a little project that I've been waiting to start since we moved into our house on January 17, 2003. How you like them apples?
This weekend we took a major step towards our dream of having functional and fully restored original and period appropriate windows. More importantly, I tackled the task on what is the single worst, loosest, most decrepit window of all of the windows in our house -- the master bathroom window.
This window has been one of the banes of our old house existence. Drafty doesn't begin to cover the description. This window's sash ropes have been broken since before we moved in.
The weight pockets showed the signs of years of neglect and rot from poor water drainage.
The zinc weather stripping, added in a futile attempt to stop the cold, had seen better days and was now doing more harm (by trapping water) than good.
In addition, the sag of the house has resulted in the lower sash's failure to even close. In general, this window is a complete and total mess. As Norm from This Old House would say, "It's in tough shape."
Though I'm hopeful and relatively sure this completed endeavor will ultimately result in lengthy blog guides on various aspects of window restoration, as well as soap box mounted diatribes covering the advantages of old windows versus their modern counterparts, today I'm basking in the glow of a project that's not yet even reached its midway point.
I'm now racing against the weather that made its appearance on this near freezing morning, doing the best job I possibly can while simultaneously worrying about the coming winter. I'm also juggling the fact I have a day job that I regrettably can't just stop attending. I wish day jobs understood the plight of the DIYer and the importance of allowing me to work when I want and how I want.
But alas, I have a hole in my house while I'm at work, and I can only imagine that Wendy is sitting at home trying to keep warm below a laptop and mound of blankets and pets.
I do hope they make it through the day and into the evening when I can return home to continue my restoration efforts. Completing the started project is what I really need to make my exhausted exuberantion (I know, that's a questionable word right there) worth all of the effort. But until then, I'll look back on this weekend's efforts and ponder all that I accomplished, in spite of the realization that in reality I didn't accomplish much and only started a new project. Such is the life of the tortured DIYer.
Did you start anything new this weekend? Or did you do the unthinkable and actually finish a project? Do you experience the same emotions I've outlined when you start something you've been waiting to do?
