DIY – Cindy Hval

When our youngest son moved to Texas almost four years ago, we didn’t fall into the empty-nester stereotype and convert his room into a home gym.

After all, he returns home a couple of times a year for long visits.

The room across from ours also remained untouched – unless you count everything from our bedroom closet that we placed there “temporarily” while Derek began building a walk-in closet.

He got sidetracked by other projects, and the room that was once occupied by all four of our sons became the “junk room.”

Then on Thanksgiving, Sam got engaged. Not only would he come home in May, but he’d be bringing the beautiful Susan with him!

Just like that, we had motivation for renovation.

First, Derek needed to finish the walk-in closet so we could clear out the junk room. That became the most labor-intensive part of our home makeover. We had everything from seasonal clothes to photo albums to boxes of china in there. And tools. Lots of tools that he wanted to keep nearby.

We agreed that the room would become a guest room/home office for Derek and that Sam’s old room would be transformed into a guest room with updated paint, lighting and furnishings.

The only glitch in our grand plans was that Derek wanted to do all of the work himself. With the spring visit looming, I balked at the idea that he could finish a closet and two bedrooms before Sam and Susan arrived. (There was also the matter of the unfinished shower in the downstairs bathroom.)

You don’t stay married for 40 years without learning the art of compromise.

My husband agreed to gut and redo the upstairs room, while I took charge of the downstairs room. This was great because I’d already hired a contractor to paint it.

When Sam moved, the sticky tack he’d used to hang scores of posters had left gouges and removed the paint in many places. The cobalt colored walls were scarred and stapled.

He’d attempted to paint his closet doorknobs red, cats had bent the blinds, and the ceiling light was dated. Only the lovely wood floor that Derek installed when he built the room still looked good.

I chose a soft, powder blue paint. In two days, the contractor painted the room and refreshed the molding and the closet. The result? A dark, outdated room transformed into a bright and airy space.

Derek installed new blinds and lighting, and then the real fun began –decorating.

The only new furniture I bought was a bed, an end table and lamps – everything else I sourced from our home.

A white shoe shelf from our old closet fit perfectly in a corner and holds books, games, movies and a few teacups.

My mom’s antique washstand became a TV stand. An easy chair from my office, draped with a soft white blanket, made for a cozy reading spot. I repurposed wall art from other rooms and bought a large white-framed mirror. A throw rug and blue-and-white bedding completed the transformation.

Meanwhile, Derek wasn’t having quite as much fun (or at least not what I consider fun). He’d removed the aging gold carpet in preparation for new laminate flooring, but a pesky squeak in the floorboards drove him crazy.

That squeak woke the babies who once slept there every time I’d tiptoed in to peek at them.

Derek wasn’t having it. He ripped up part of the subflooring, and after much YouTubeing, many nails and some creative language, he vanquished the squeak.

Before he could lay the new floor and paint the dingy white room light gray, there were holes to fill and texturing and priming to do.

Oh yeah, he also removed the horrible popcorn ceiling that adorned many houses built in the ’60s and ’70s.

After days and days of dust, he emerged and said, “Yeah. I’m not doing that again.”

Finally, he got to have fun. He brought up Sam’s bed and desk, and together we figured out how to haul our old pine TV armoire upstairs. The addition of my mom’s bookcase means Derek finally has a place to display his collection of shot and beer glasses.

The aging white ceiling fan/light was tossed, and he found a cool low-profile industrial-looking version online.

The day before the kids arrived, Derek installed the shower door.

Whew! Our empty nest transition is complete.

No home gym. No craft room. No shrine to childhoods long past. Just inviting rooms ready to welcome visiting kids and grandkids.

It was worth the wait.

They say you don’t appreciate what you have until you no longer have it.

Take electricity for example. In August we lost power for several hours. It didn’t take long for my family to deeply appreciate the magic that happens when you flip a switch and the lights come on.

Apparently, the Universe deemed we needed another lesson in gratitude.

Ten years ago, my husband and his father replaced our aging water heater with a fancy tankless model. Like all Hval projects it was fraught with unforeseen complications. Namely, they couldn’t get the water shut off. But also like all Hval projects, it was worth the wait.

At the time, we had six people living at home, including four active boys. Showering had turned into a competitive sport. No one wanted to be the last one to shower because that’s when the hot water usually ran out. And God help the Mom who threw a load of laundry in while boys were bathing.

After our new tankless system was installed, Derek ran his hand over the compact, gleaming wall-mounted beauty.

“We’ll never run out of hot water, again!” he said.

For a long time, he was right. But a few years ago, the heater began making some ominous noises. We ignored them.

This summer the rattle turned to a roar that echoed all the way outdoors to the Great Gazebo where I sunned myself.

And then the dripping started.

Last month, Derek and I came home after an evening out, and Zach said, “Did you know water is coming out of the hot water heater?”

We did not know this.

After assessing the situation, Derek put a bucket under it.

Within days the trickle became a small but steady stream and the bucket had to be emptied with increasing frequency. We took to turning the water heater off at night.

“I think it’s the heat exchanger,” said Derek.

Then he did something unheard of in the Hval household: He called for professional help.

A plumber visited and confirmed Derek’s suspicion, and recommended replacing the entire unit. The estimated cost was the equivalent of sending one of us to Hawaii while the other stayed home and ate macaroni and cheese for a week.

“I’ll just replace the heat exchanger and I’ll do it myself,” Derek announced.

He watched a YouTube video about the process and ordered the part online.

“It’ll be here in less than a week,” he said.

Of course, that was the day the water heater quit all together.

Theoretically, one can live without hot water. You can wash your hands and your clothes in cold and our dishwasher has its own heating coils. What you cannot do is shower in cold water. At least I can’t.

The four of us scrambled to find bathing options while we waited for the part to arrive. We have a gym membership, so Derek and Sam took hot showers there. I could have done that, too, but I like more privacy when I get ready for my day. Thankfully, I housesit for snowbirds during the fall and winter, and hot showers and my office away from home were just a short drive away.

Which left poor Zachary (who’d let his gym membership lapse) to learn the military discipline of taking an icy shower.

“The key is to keep your feet out of the way of the water,” he informed us.

A chilly week passed before the part arrived. It had some complicated wiring, but Derek easily figured it out and hooked it up in record time.

He switched it on and waited. No rattle. No roar. And unfortunately no hot water.

“I think the dripping water fried the fan,” he said. “I’ll order a new one. It’ll be here in a couple days.”

We are a stoic lot, but the news was hard to take. Our combined groans sounded almost as loud as the defunct water heater used to.

On the appointed day, the fan arrived while we were all at work. Derek hurried home to install it. The rest of us watched our phones, anxiously awaiting word.

Within minutes a text arrived. “We have HOT WATER!”

Such beautiful words!

Zachary got the first shower. He’d earned it.

As for me, when it was my turn to luxuriate under the warm water’s soothing spray, I counted my blessings. Loudly. Just in case the Universe thinks I need any more reminders.