I use my holiday break in a way the surprises even me: non-stop activity, home improvement, art projects. It’s a burst of energy that comes from a resolution-adjacent place — less about self improvement, more from a big, churning desire for capital C Change.

I didn’t want to take my house frustrations from 2022 into 2023. So, while John was volunteering to help assemble a float for the Rose Bowl, I stealthily embark on a trio of minor renovations. On day one, he leaves the house, I kiss him goodbye, and immediately spring into action. I clean the kitchen and dining space, truthfully planning to maybe make a process video. Things are spic & span and I start to film and think… what-the-fuck-am-I-doing and who-the-fuck-am-I-doing this for? I scrap the filming part, and get down to business. Our house has this insane bar space that the builders threw on in a last-ditch bid to increase the kitchen space when the house wasn’t getting offers. It is five inches taller than the counters, made of a single long wooden countertop sawn in two and bolted together. Nearly everything about it bugs us, but the height is the worst offender so it has to go.

I unbolt both pieces, and take the vertical board outside, where, sitting on it like Wile E Coyote, I trim off the offending five inches with a newly purchased circular saw. I adjust the height of the wall bracket, and in less than 40 minutes, a gripe that has needled us for 18 months is resolved. I put the house back together, and prepare to see how long it will take John to notice when he comes home: it’s a significant change but not an obvious one. The room works better but you’re not entirely sure what is different. There’s still a bunch to be done to maximize the cabinet space. So much shit has to be out right now due to the lack of storage, and that will come sometime this year.

He gasps the moment he walks in the door.