You don't always notice the day your home stops working for you. It's not like the roof caves in (hopefully). It's subtle. A door that creaks, the tap you have to wiggle, the mirror that fogs up even with the window open. Trivial details, really. But they accumulate.

Then one day, you're leaning in your hallway — probably half-awake — and thinking, *okay, this layout needs help*.

That's usually how renovation begins. Not always with dream boards. Sometimes it's annoyance. Or boredom. Or the feeling that your living space could be doing... something else.

People talk about renovations like a big event. And yeah, sometimes it is. Demo days, tradies who promise soon, and drama involving utes, dogs, or “supply delays.” But sometimes? It's simpler. A functional tap. Doesn't have to be a circus.

I've seen friends swing hard. Kitchens flattened, walls gone before coffee. And others? Just one shelf. Both are valid. There's no manual. Only what fits your life.

Money — yeah. That's the wildcard. You think you've figured the costs, and then... you don't. Double the budget. Then add more. Because when click here you pull up drywall and find a mystery, you don't want to compromise.

Also, not everything needs to happen at once. Unless you enjoy dust, pacing things might keep your bank account intact. And maybe — just maybe — you realize halfway through that you don't like black fixtures after all. It happens.

Anyway. Whether you're patching things up, or just finally painting over that lime green, it's all part of it. Some of it's annoying. But walking through your door and thinking, *yeah, this place gets me now* — that's worth something.

Even if the tap drips a bit. That's just home.