The advent of spring is all about minutia—almost imperceptible changes that transform brown to green, bare to lush, dark to light, and gray rainy days to slightly less rainy, slightly less gray days. Observers of natural phenomenon engage in a careful study and recording of the gradual transition between seasons, noting the tiny changes on phenology checklists. Things like “rhubarb ready to harvest,” “robins return,” and “squirrel activity increases” are among the harbingers of spring signaling us that it’s time to put away the space heater and figure out which %^$&# storage unit is hiding the oscillating floor fan.At 1510 17th, tiny hints of the season are appearing around the perimeter, in places where
the ground isn’t covered by straw and cast-off boards. On the chestnut tree that will eventually shade the southeast corner of the yard, there are new buds; tiny purple flowers (liriope muscari for you floriculturists out there) are poking up next to the porti-potti (please god don’t let it be leaking); and the grass on the Donovan-side strip is rising to annoy-the-neighbors heights. Birds are chirping in the branches of the remaining alders, worms are squiggling underfoot, etc, etc, blah blah blah.Inside the home, which you can see peeking through the still-bare branches of the trees, minutia is also being attended to. Now that the exterior is nearly done (with a few minor exceptions, such as decking and paint), details on the inside are demanding attention—mostly mine. Since I bounce hourly between impulsivity (book-buying, snack foods, web-surfing) and procrastination (flossing, exercising, decision-making), I’ve managed
to put off selecting interior and exterior paint, carpets, hardwood and slate; kitchen countertops, dishwasher, oven, and microwave; shower and tub tile; interior and exterior door knobs and lock sets, and a dozen other things that I’m sure will pop up like crocuses over the next few weeks. I have no magic formula for choosing all of the intricacies that will make home livable, although a concrete list and definitive budget are obviously a start. Now all I need is to extricate my derriere from the sofa and seek out the needed items. But wait, perhaps I can stall a little…surely there is a book that I need to read in order to make the best choices. Or at least shove the regular choices a little farther into the spring…
Enter Marni Jameson. Jameson, a syndicated home design columnist, covers the tiniest details of home decorating in her new book The House Always Wins: America’s Most Trusted Home Columnist’s Guide to Creating Your (Almost) Perfect Dream House. Besides having one of the longest subtitles in recent memory, The House Always Wins is a kick-ass guide to selecting everything from carpet padding to light bulbs. Jameson is funny and honest about her own home design challenges, and her suggestions are sensible, imaginative, and for the most part, extremely useful.Among the best advice Jameson offers are reminders about designing a home that suits your needs and lifestyle FIRST, and then focusing on making it look nice, an argument that she maintains consistently until her chapter on accessorizing, where she recommends organizing books according to their type (hardback vs. paperback) and size. Up until this point, I had a neck-ache from bobbing my head in agreement. But give me a break—books organized by anything other than topic is insane. I won't have my Calvin and Hobbes Treasury intermingling with The Illustrated Kama Sutra just because they're the same height.
Jameson's book has made me thankful, actually, that I've postponed some decisions. With her advice, I have a better grip on how to choose hardwood floors, carpet, area rugs, and colors for walls, tiles, and the like. I also have some awesome tips on window coverings and maintaining houseplants, should I ever have the money to afford either. All things said, attending to the tiny details is one of the joys of homebuilding. And life.
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