This one stupid tap wasn't even broken. Just temperamental. You had to turn it just so and then back toward center to get warm water. If you turned it too fast, it'd let out a weird sound. Not loud, but sharp — like a kettle screaming. I put up with it for too long. Blamed the pipes. Blamed the setup. Blamed everything except myself.

One Tuesday, I was home by accident, waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it hit me: I am tired of this space.

It wasn't a moment of clarity. More like a feeling that had finally forced its way to the surface. The cutlery tray slid around, the bench was barely usable, and the overhead storage door slammed my face every time I opened the dishwasher. I'd started to duck by instinct.

I pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote “new tap” at the top. Beneath that: “actual counter space,” then “move light switch?” The question mark wasn't accidental. The switch really was hidden like a prank.

I told myself I'd keep it simple. Just swap out the tap. Easy. But standing in the plumbing section three days later, confused by finishes, I somehow ended up with tile samples under my arm. And then came the demolition.

I didn't call a tradesperson. I probably should've. Instead, I borrowed a sledgehammer from my friend Rory, who said, “Don't aim at anything alive.” Not exactly the comforting guidance, but I used it anyway.

Taking down that top unit felt like a win. Against what? I'm not totally sure. Maybe the version of me that made excuses.

The journey spiraled. Not badly, just... inevitably. I spent three hours googling “do I need primer?”. Got into a minor argument with a guy on a forum about epoxy grout. I still don't really understand epoxy, but I'm convinced he was probably guessing.

And the new tap? Still isn't silent. Different sound now. Softer. Almost charming. I think I like it. Or maybe I've given up.

It's not magazine-worthy. The tile near the bin's not square, and the outlet by the read more toaster wobbles. But when I step in, I don't brace. That alone is a win.

And that notebook? Still on the bench. Nothing new written. Which, honestly, feels good.