I'm fixing up my house—and trying to make it greener in the process. One slight problem: I know nothing about all this stuff. Well, a little more than nothing. I've bought [1] the usual books [2], and at this point I've done enough on the house to feel comfortable with the general mechanics – but go-for-coffee comfortable, not move-in-and-share-toothpaste comfortable.
My wife and I bought our house two years ago. We didn't really mean to buy a house, but Hil [2] came across this one while on a garage-sale hunt for plant pots, found out it was for sale, and one thing led to a debt-inducing other. We loved the place for its quirks: On a street dominated by blocky ranch-style houses filled with college students, we had found a kooky little oasis full of skylights and Mexican tiles and weird little outbuildings.
Our dog Kaia inspecting the herb garden on the back deck
But one of its slightly-less-lovely quirks, it turns out, is that the house is in constant need of repair. Currently on the to-do list:
- replace our broken boiler (for the radiant heat system, already in place) and water heater
- insulate the cold and drafty crawlspace and attic
- weatherproof innumerable leaky windows
- plug a hole in the sunroom wall
- replace our elderly appliances with ones invented after the dawn of the Industrial Age
- install a dual-flush toilet
- remodel the laundry room using high-efficiency or recycled or otherwise green stuff: floors made from recycled tires, a high-efficiency washer and dryer
And about a thousand other projects, some green, others less so, but all to be done in the name of making our house more efficient, more comfortable, and – if we can swing it – more valuable.
Which is why I'm here. I'll be posting my progress on Lime, as well as interviews and other insights on how we can all improve our living spaces. Learn from my mistakes, post your own horror stories in the comments section, correct me when I'm trying to fit a Finley sprocket with a Langstrom wrench. In other words, stick around and get communal.