It began with a shelf idea. Or maybe not even a shelf — more like the offhand comment of one. My partner said we needed “a better place for the keys,” and instead of doing the obvious, I decided I'd make a statement. Wall-mounted. Minimalist. Elegant. Or whatever people call it when they're about to make a mess.

I marked the spot next to the entry light, took one step back and thought, “Easy” Ten minutes later I was staring into the guts of the wall, wondering it looked like someone had shoved insulation next to the wiring. The shelf never happened. But somehow the drywall crumbled more than expected.

That's the thing about renovation — it doesn't stick to the script. You start with one thing, and the next thing you know, you're repainting. I just wanted a shelf. By the end of the week, I had new plasterboard.

There's no clear moment when it all flips. It just happens. You go to the store for anchors and come back with a basket of grout samples. That's how I ended up repainting a perfectly fine wall because the guy at the store said, “People are doing sage now.”

Tools pile up. You buy the same sanding block because you can't remember where the other ones went. Spoiler: they're all in the laundry, behind the https://cosyhomepro.com/ ironing board.

It's messy. Not just physically. One night I slept in the lounge because the bedroom smelled like plaster. I also cried over a nail that wouldn't stay in. Real tears. Over a hook. I don't know what to tell you.

But you get through it. With sheer willpower. You learn things you'd rather not. Like how the hallway paint was hiding mold.

Eventually, though, things feel right again. Not perfect — nothing is. The tiles by the bin still tilt. But now, I look around and don't trip. That's progress.

The shelf? Never built it. We use a bowl now. Same one we always had, sitting on a slightly sticky sideboard. But the wall's patched. Mostly.

And that's renovation, isn't it? Not polished. But it's something real. With all its weird corners and accidental charm.