Sometimes taking care of the little things can be such a drag. They’re just so, well, little. I tend to put tasks like this off indefinitely—that tiny nail hole in the wall that needs to be spackled, the chipped paint on the windowsill that could use a touch-up. They seem so inconsequential and undeserving of effort, so naturally they’re the most irritating. These tiny repairs aren’t just annoyances, they’re like living with a bunch of little demons. “Seriously dude, just spend the five minutes fixing me already and move on with your life,” they sneer as you walk by. They push and push until all of those little moments you’ve spent thinking “hm, I should really fix that already and move on with my life” compound into something quite wearing, which makes you question your very right to consider yourself a competent, able-bodied person who cares about their house.
At least that’s how it goes for me, I don’t know what your deal is.
One little thing that had been bugging me for months was the big threshold between the kitchen tiles and the living room hardwood.
It’s big and wide and ugly and spattered with paint. It wasn’t actually this bad since I had already started sanding when I thought to take a picture (see top right corner, obvs). But still. Next to that tile, it’s like a big shitstorm of ugly.
It took about 5 minutes to sand the thing down and another 5 to apply some leftover stain, the Minwax Jacobean 2750 that I used on my desk. The next day, it took another 5 minutes to put on a coat of tung oil. That’s 15 minutes, for those who can’t add.
And guess what? This little crap makes me stupidly happy. Is it perfect? Far from it. Is it as good as it’s likely to get? Probably. And while I wouldn’t consider any room (particularly the living room) in this apartment “done,” it’s nice to consider that little tasks like this are worthy of attention now that I’m more in the “pimp it out” phase than the “paint the walls” phase.
Now those tiny nail holes… I will destroy you. Someday. When I get around to it.