Our home has floors again. Ordinarily, having floors isn’t something to write home about, or in this case, write about our home. But in July we began a bathroom remodel that was supposed to take three weeks. As it turned out, the bathroom remodel took six weeks. In the process, we sprung a leak in the bathroom that ruined the floor in our bedroom. So after we finished the bathroom remodel, we replaced the floor in our bedroom, but because the bedroom flooring connected to the hallway, my office, and our guest bedroom, we extended the project to include those areas as well. Which is why, in the closing days of September, three months after starting work on the bathroom remodel, I’m pleased to say that we once again have finished floors everywhere in our home.

Yay!

But also,

Boo.

See, the thing about remodeling a home is that it never ends. I used to believe that was a euphemism — a way of expressing the pain of a seemingly never-ending project. But now I understand the truth: It never ends.

The new floor phase of the remodel is, in fact, still ongoing. We need to put in new baseboards — an element of home decor nobody notices, unless it’s missing. We need to repaint the walls, because the process of installing polished concrete floors is akin to inviting a tornado into your home. And to install the concrete floors, we also removed the doors to the closets in our bedroom and my office, so we need new closet doors too. Also, while we’re at it, we’ll likely add more light fixtures and put in some new shelving. Then that phase will truly be done.

But there’s always another phase, because it never ends. In our case, with the new floors and new bathroom, the vision for our home is really coming together. That’s the good news. Here’s the bad news: Our kitchen, along with the floors in the other half of the house, don’t fit that vision. So more remodeling is on the horizon. And of course, those projects will give birth to their own mini-projects — new paint, baseboards, a new front door, new windows, etc. I’m told we may also have to get new window treatments, which sounds like a cure for people afflicted with the condition of installing new windows, but is in fact, it’s own chronic condition.

At some point, we’ll be done. By which I mean, we’ll move on to projects that aren’t yet on the horizon — landscaping, solar, a helipad, a moat, electric eels to prevent intruders from swimming across the moat, a drawbridge to get across the moat, an electric drawbridge opener with WiFi-enabled remote control because a manual drawbridge in the twenty-first century simply won’t do. If this sounds ridiculous and stupid, it is. But as the hip hop duo Young Gunz famously said, “can’t stop, won’t stop.”

It never ends.

But like so many painful experiences in life, remodeling a home is a learning opportunity. And OK, sure, we aren’t likely to learn the big lesson, i.e. don’t do it. But we did learn some smaller lessons along the way.

1: The Money Pit was a Documentary

I used to think the 1980s movie starring Tom Hanks and Shelley Long was a comedy. Then we bought a home, and I realized it was a tragedy. Now, I’m certain it’s a documentary about a couple that sacrificed their bank account, sanity, and relationship on the alter of remodeling.

2: Contractors Need More Skin in the Game

I used to believe in capitalism — we pay for material and labor, and the contractor delivers a remodeled bathroom. Now, I believe in old testament eye-for-an-eye justice. If a contractor fucks up your house, you should have the right to fuck up their house. For example, if your contractor forgets to seal the rough plumbing prior to installing the tub, and that mistake ends up ruining your bedroom floor, you’re entitled to visit their home with a crowbar, sledgehammer, and squirt gun so that you can fuck up their abode. This policy, which I’m planning to make a key plank in my Presidential platform in 2028, will either reduce construction errors, or increase vigilantism. Either way, I’m all for it.

3: Choice is a Tax on Sanity

You think you want choice. Choosing sounds good. Then you start construction, and suddenly you find yourself in a labyrinth of choices, only every choice you make draws you deeper into the maze and closer to the Minotaur because each choice has a ripple effect. I asked Christina which tile she liked best. It was an innocent question, I swear. She said that the tile choice depended on the vanity, and the vanity depended on the floor, and the floor depended on the hardware, which depended on the tile. This is what psychologists call the Ouroboros of Choosing. Just kidding. Psychologists haven’t studied couples who are remodeling their homes — the subject is too dark to contemplate.

4: Building Inspectors are Petty Tyrants

We failed our first inspection because our shower-tub didn’t have a shower curtain or door. I explained that my wife had ordered a shower curtain online and that we planned to install it as soon as it arrived, because, you know, we’re not dipshits who spray water all over the place when we shower. It didn’t matter. The inspector flunked us. A week later, a different inspector came by, but he didn’t care about the shower curtain. His beef was with another room entirely. “You can’t have a bedroom connected to the garage,” he said. The issue was carbon monoxide — a valid concern, even if we were twenty-five feet away from the bathroom, aka his jurisdiction. Regardless, I explained that the room next to the garage was my office, that we had a carbon monoxide detector installed above the door to the garage just in case, and that the only car we parked in their was electric. None of that mattered. But I offered him a Coke Zero, and somewhere between popping the top and belching out some carbon dioxide, he passed us.

5: Home Ownership Will Radicalize You

While I remain committed to democracy and the rule of law, and I believe that government has a important role to play in our society, I had some Howard Beale moments, at least as far as the department of building and safety was concerned. Frankly, we need to defund those motherfuckers ASAP.

Shout out time!

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A conversation with Amran Gowani about LEVERAGE

I devoured ’s debut novel. Leverage is a thriller set in the world of a San Francisco hedge fund and a sharp satire about capitalism in 21st century America. I chatted with Amran about his book, why white collar crimes are traditionally excluded from crime fiction, and life imitating art. Do yourself a favor: Buy Amran’s book, then listen to our conversation.

A book for people who 💙 this newsletter

Not Safe for Work is a slacker noir murder mystery set against the backdrop of the porn industry at the dawn of Web 2.0. Like everything you read here, my novel is based on personal experience, funny as hell, and according to many readers, “surprisingly insightful.”

Not Safe for Work is available at Amazon and all the other book places.

*The ebook is .99, so you can’t go too far wrong. Just sayin’.

IAUA: I ask, you answer

Will it ever end? Lie to me.

Are you remodeling, or are you sane?

Two weeks?! Explain.

Do I have your vote for 2028, or do you support unaccountable contractors and petty tyrants masquerading as building inspectors?

Have you told a friend about my books? Hint: You should! Bonus: Not Safe For Work and Ride / Share make great gifts.

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