Every time I finish a project (like, I just redid my bathroom floor), I get super anxious about whether I actually did it “right.” Sometimes I’ll do a mini-inspection myself, other times I just kinda wing it and hope for the best. Curious—do you folks actually follow some kind of checklist or just eyeball stuff? Ever called in a pro after the fact, or just lived with your own mistakes?
Title: How picky are you about checking your own reno work?
I get where you’re coming from—after I tiled my kitchen backsplash, I must’ve stared at those grout lines for hours, convinced I’d missed something. I’m definitely the checklist type, but even then, there’s always that nagging feeling I overlooked a step or didn’t get the spacing perfect. Sometimes I’ll even take photos and zoom in just to see if anything looks off (probably overkill, but it helps me sleep).
That said, I’ve learned that “good enough” is sometimes… well, good enough. Unless it’s something structural or waterproofing-related, I try not to stress too much. There was one time I had to call in a plumber after a DIY sink install went sideways—expensive lesson, but I chalked it up to experience.
Honestly, most people don’t notice the little imperfections we obsess over. If it works and looks decent, that’s a win in my book.
I totally get the zooming in on photos—been there, done that, probably too many times. For me, it’s a weird mix of wanting things to look great but also knowing I’ll drive myself nuts if I chase perfection. I always tell myself, “If it’s solid and eco-friendly, I’m happy.” But then I’ll spot a slightly crooked tile and suddenly I’m rethinking my life choices... At the end of the day, if it functions and doesn’t waste resources, I call it a win.
I get hung up on the little stuff too, especially after spending hours on a project. Sometimes I’ll notice a grout line that’s just a hair off and it bugs me for days. But honestly, if it’s sturdy and does the job, I try not to sweat it. Perfection’s overrated—function and sustainability matter way more in the long run.
I once spent an entire afternoon squinting at a quarter-inch gap under a baseboard, convinced it would haunt me forever. But then I remembered my house is 120 years old and nothing’s straight anyway. At some point, “good enough” becomes a survival tactic, especially if you want to keep your sanity (and your weekends).
