It seemed like a good idea at the time. Renovations. It would mean my husband and I would decide exactly what we wanted. After all, we’d bought the house simply because of the potential. You know, that word real estate agents use all too often.
It was a two-bedroom house in a small complex. It had just one bath and the kitchen was not up to standard. But we saw the large wrap-around garden – a novelty in most Johannesburg suburbs – and were sold. It meant our two pugs had space to run around and left the option to build on around the property wide open. We could even build a second level, we were told.
We were newlyweds then, with no kids, and the place seemed perfect. And so was the price – another rarity in sought-after suburbs close to most amenities and the highway. We bought it. After a year the idea of the potential had worn off. We still didn’t like the small kitchen with its old school white melamine cupboards. But we didn’t want to renovate as yet.
We talked about it all the time, planning the open plan area, large deck outside, and of course, the third bedroom. Which we didn’t really need, but wanted, nonetheless. One year progressed to four and we welcomed our first child. Renovation was not an option until she was a little older.
Then a trip to the Grand Prix in Abu Dhabi came up, and we pushed renovation a little further. The house could wait, but the last race with double points couldn’t. Then 2015 rolled around, With plans for extensions on the house complete, we succumbed. It would only take three months, the builder said. Don’t they always say what you want to hear?
I wanted it all done before my daughter’s 2nd birthday at the end of April. And miraculously, when April came, we had our garage done, a new entrance, and a third bedroom. But no kitchen. There was no way we could celebrate a birthday here, so we went away for the weekend.
Of course we had flash rains that weekend, and with no waterproofing, we had a mini flood in all the newly built areas at home. We lost electronic equipment, curtains and clothes, sofas. Our contractor had spent all the money we paid upfront, and we had to fork out to repair damages and waterproof. We just kept forking out until miraculously, again, at the end of May, we were done.
Three-bedroom houses in our suburb sell for an average of R1.3-million to R1.5-million. Even so, we would have probably found something wrong with the property and needed to spend much more to get what we wanted. So it made sense to spend one tenth that price to renovate.
I guess the experience was tainted. Had it been smooth sailing, I would not have been so averse to having builders, plumbers and electricians in and out my house for almost five months. If there is anything we learnt from the experience, it’s this: do your homework.
Find a contractor who has been vetted by more than one person you know. Budget for at least 10% more than you envision. Little things cost money. So do contractors who run out of money. Your money. Most importantly, have bucket loads of patience.
For now, if my husband so much as asks for another extension, a man-cave, or a coversion into a duplex…well, if the space we have no longer suits our lifestyle and accommodates our family, consider my house for sale!
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