If you’re wondering how many times you can say “Oh Shit” or “What the Fuck” during a house renovation, let me tell you, it’s a lot.

We are now into week 4 or 5 of our house renovation and the more layers we peal back the more interesting things we find. For example, the hole in the ceiling caused by a roof leak. Or the hole in the wall that was hidden behind the siding. A hole which explains where the chipmunk I kept seeing last summer kept entering to build a nest in the wall. Me and that chipmunk tolerated each other, but both of us were secretly trying to get rid of the other

With the foundation issues repaired and the house level, I feel we are starting to round the first corner on this journey. Nothing we’ve found so far has surprised us. We sort of expected there would be problems once we started taking the place apart.

Next we put in new beams, windows, doors and new roof. Once we get past that part, the rest will hopefully be a bit less “Oh Shit" and more like “That’s the Shit.”

After several false starts due to circumstances out of our control, we have finally started dismantling our house. I say dismantling because we are trying to salvage what we can to sell, give away or re-use in the rebuild.

Pealing back the walls has been like looking for buried treasure. With the removal of each layer another layer is revealed. Every time the house was remodeled, another layer was added. Drywall on top of paneling, on top of drywall, on top of paneling, on top of drywall. Carpet on top of carpet, tile on top of tile. This makes demo a bit rough. But the good news is—we now have about six more inches of ceiling height.

When you become part of the process, it becomes less shocking to walk into your house after the walls are gone or seeing a gaping hole in you basement where there used to be a foundation or a pile of dirt were the sunroom used to stand.

Doing some of the work yourself is exhausting and rewarding. But, mostly exhausting. I kid.

After the original plan to tear down the existing structure and rebuild a new house was derailed by a final estimate that was $400,000 above our original budget, coupled with us jumping through more bureaucratic hoops than we had the energy for—we regrouped one last time. We kept telling ourselves that not being able to tear down the structure must be a sign. A sign that someone doesn’t want this place torn down. Someone wants us to preserve the memories that have been created here and keep adding layers of memories to those already created.

So, after 4 years of trying to get this started. We can finally say, there is no turning back now. Let the memory creation begin.

What a year it has been. A few highlights for those keeping score.

• I lost a chunk of finger to a wood splitter

• My wife fought through a bout with the COVID

• Got rear ended by a distracted driver which resulted in a punch to the face by an airbag and a totaled car

• Scrambled to find a “new” car during a pandemic when new cars cost an arm and leg and used cars are non-existent. I had already lost a chunk of finger, so I was not going to give an arm and/or leg for a new vehicle

• Had to scrap building the house we’ve been planning for 3+ years due to skyrocketing building costs, and, after I began the demo on existing cottage which was to be torn down

There may be more highlights buried in the back room of my brain, but the clown standing guard at the door scares me and I’m not ready to confront him to get in there to retrieve those memories.

Now let’s focus on the present. The other day I decided I should shovel the snow off the roof of our small cabin. The cabin sits on a mountain / large hill depending on your reference point. It is only accessible by foot with the help of snowshoes this time of year. It’s a job I have been putting off because the hike up will beat you down. The thought of having to shovel snow off the roof after the climb, was something I was not in the right frame of mind to deal with lately.

The weather forecast was calling for mild temperatures and snow flurries. Which loosely translated means, stuff will be falling from the sky that weighs as much as a small animal and will crush any structure it is allowed to accumulate on. So, I grabbed a bagel, a couple apples, some water, an extra jacket, and spare gloves. I suited up and started the climb.

As I started the climb the weather was calm. No wind. No snow. It was quiet and peaceful. Enjoyable, one might say. As I got closer to the cabin the wind picked up. The snow was blinding. The weight of the wet snow gathering on the tops of my snowshoes was adding an extra five to ten pounds to my feet. Each step was becoming increasingly more difficult. I stopped several times to tuck my heart back into my chest and grab a ball of fresh snow to wet my drying mouth.

After reaching the cabin, I changed into may spare jacket and gloves and began to shovel snow from the deck. The weather became calm. I figured this was my chance to get on the roof and remove the snow before Mother Nature changed her mind.

I grabbed the ladder from under the cabin and proper it up against the side of the cabin. I then launched the shovel up onto the roof and climbed up. The snow thigh deep making walking around a bit of a challenge.

As I began launching shovels of snow from the roof, Mother Nature decided it was “Let’s Fuck With John Hour.” The wind picked up. The snow was now blowing and more in the from of ice pellets. My glasses quickly became covered hindering my ability to see. I kept shoveling hoping for another calm.

After removing the snow from half the roof, it became calm again. I pulled a paper towel from my pocket, cleaned my glasses and finished removing the rest of the snow.

I put the shovel and ladder away, beat my hat against a beam to remove the ice build up then went inside the cabin. I began to eat the bagel I had brought while pulling chunks of ice from my beard. It was quiet and peaceful.

As I sat there looking out the window I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I thought about the people who came before us. Those who lived in one room, drafty cabins and faced what I faced everyday. For me it was one day. For them it was everyday,

I thought about what our 88 year neighbor / friend told us this past summer as we were walking around in the woods. “When we were young we never enjoyed nature. We were too busy surviving to pay much attention to its beauty.”

And that is perspective.

Over the past few years I have felt myself evolving, or as some may see it, regressing. Let me try to explain. I am basically “retired”. This retirement was not planned, but due to unforeseen life circumstances, retirement basically just happened. It’s all for the better.

I’ve spent most of my adult life running balls out trying to make a client happy. Pulling all-nighters creating ads to get people to buy something they did not need. Being part of a team. It was all fun and games. Then it all stopped. No more balls out. No more all nighters. No more teams. Adjustment is ongoing. Life is different. It’s slower. It’s a mind game. It’s better. Something I think you need to experience to fully understand.

Let’s get back to my evolution, shall we. My wife and I split our time between the city of Montreal and the countryside. We spend most of the time in the countryside because that is where our main residence is located. Most people live in the city and have a cottage or cabin outside of the city so they can get away. For us, it’s the opposite.

During our time living in the countryside I’ve spent a lot of time observing how the locals live. I interact with them the best I can given my limited grasp of the French language to better understand their culture. Trying to adapt their way of life into mine. Hanging out with them and helping them with projects in an effort to learn. The main thing I’ve learned is, they make do with what they have. And now, so do I.

When it’s maple syrup season, you make maple syrup. You don’t run to the store and buy it. If you have a clean empty 55 gallon barrel, you use it to harvest rain water for gardening. Or in our case, flushing the toilet at our little cabin. If a tree is blown over by the wind, you cut it up to use as fire wood for heating your home or making maple syrup. If there are dead or dying evergreen trees, you make plank boards out them to build a shed or to repair a broken board. Need to replace a foundation pillar? Use a tree you cut down. Need a new handrail for the stairway? Use a branch from a fallen tree. Need to keep the smell down in your outhouse? Throw some saw dust over each fresh pile. Out here nothing seems to go to waste. Buying something new is the last option, not the first. We make do with what we have. I understand that these types of examples are not possible for everyone. But, if you look around you for a solution rather than buying one, I think you’d be surprised at what is possible.

In a world where everyone appears to be trying to buy happiness, maybe we should all stop consuming just to consume. Maybe, we should just make do.

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