Owning a house is completely and totally nuts. But it’s like a drug. If you’re addicted to seeing the resulting prettiness, then you just can’t stop. A little thing here, a little thing there and it slowly, but surely, comes together.

The ragged holes and time capsules of two-to-three-toned paint in our dining room was starting to drive me mad. Our home is a 1934 craftsman bungalow with rich oak, parqueted-cornered hardwood floors. Before we moved in three months ago, we decided to refinish the floors before we moved in (highly recommended!!). In doing so, we removed an out of place built-in credenza covering a quarter of the dining room floors. We upcycled the storage into the basement, but we were left with a curious pinkish-red time capsule swatch, mismatched chair rails and relatively giant holes from the support beam and thermostat my step-pop moved into the living room. A little bitta plaster, sand, paint and voila! Almost 100% civilized. Last three steps: 1) find a chair rail to similar to the existing, 2) nail on the small piece of floor trim moulding and 3) chalk paint the matching dining set hutch with mama. Eeee!!

“Little clouds,” as Chris so cutely dubbed them, can be found throughout the house after this project. What can I say, plastering appealed to my meticulous nature. Small victories.

But the small victories count for a lot. When I’m feeling low, the new hutch in my home office brings me organizational serenity. Or when I’m anxious, going Nicole Curtis-style searching for hardwood underneath the fridge digging through a good 1 1/2 inches of the former glory days of kitchen tile is like a vacation for the mind.

As crazy as it sounds, this house, this everlasting project, keeps my mind balanced and focused for the next big thing. And I think that’s a pretty awesome universal trade.

Like a bunch of crazy kids in love two days before we got married …