Your Name is Mud

Mud room. Ever since my friend finished the renovation on her dining room, I've been thinking about turning my mud room into a dining room. It adjoins the kitchen. It would work.

In fact, I've been thinking about it more and more since I calculated that I could in fact finish the floor in there with the leftover hardwood from the upstairs.

I know I know I know I know I know.

The cardinal rule I set for myself when I set out to finish my upstairs was, and I quote, "THOU SHALT NOT START A NEW PROJECT UNTIL THE UPSTAIRS HATH BEEN COMPLETED."

Me starting new projects usually results in lack of doneness everywhere, as opposed to lack of doneness just here and there.

But I just can't help thinking - we've got the hardwood. It's sitting right there in boxes, just screaming to be put down in that room. And I know it's not that easy, because we already have plans afoot for that room.

First, we'd have to rip out the double windows at the front and replace them with double french doors. Then we'd have to replace the other window in the room with a new window and get rid of the original single gross entry door at the side.

Then we'd have to relocated the doorbell and exterior light and all light switches next to the new door.

Then the drywall would have to be repaired, new wainscoting and chair rail trim installed, and everything would have to be primed and painted.

And even when that was all done, we'd have to purchase some slate tile and install around the new doorway (for your gross feet people) before the wood could be installed.

Not to mention that I've been tinkering with the idea of making the ceiling in there sloped.

You can see now how I get into trouble by starting these projects. I try and pass it off as some easy cheap weekend thing - and then it turns into a major gut-busting months-of-labor type of affair. I don't know why I get my kicks like that. It's sick, isn't it?