Daphne's contractor started doing sloppy work.

My contractor and I have grown apart. In the beginning, the relationship was easy. He would take down a wall or install a dozen cabinets in a single day; I would gush about the renovation’s progress every time I walked through the door. He would surprise me with finishing touches that I had not requested; I would eagerly run back and forth to Home Depot to find the materials he needed. It was an exciting time.

Over the last two months, though, his interest in my condo has waned. It wasn’t just him, either. I wanted my home back. Once 90 percent of the work was done, I could tell he had moved on to another kitchen. His trips to my place became infrequent, which led me to ask for my building key back last week. The magic was gone.

Like any relationship, this one better prepared me for the next. I’ve realized that, if you want to maintain a positive rapport with your contractor—a feat accomplished by very few—the trick may be a fast renovation. Once his wondering eye landed on another apartment, the quality of work in my home changed. He used to be unusually fastidious, and clearly took great pride in his work, but his recent finishing touches have been sloppy and lack the discerning eye of the early days.

One of the many lessons I have learned while renovating my kitchen is that “finished” can be  subjective. A week ago, my kitchen was definitely not finished. Most of the tile was up, but it was not grouted. The lower edges of the cabinets had no trim. One cabinet was not installed, and half of the countertop was missing.

Now that all of those items are in the “done” column, I am declaring victory. The kitchen is finished. Bring on the dinner parties. The before and after pictures are going up. Let’s fire up those appliances and make some food. Finally.

And yet, it is not finished.

Many of us consider ourselves closet do-it-yourselfers. There is a whole industry out there telling us that, given a little time and the right tools, we can paint a room, upholster a chair, build an armoire, and redesign a whole room for less than $1,000.

If you hire someone, it’s like you are wasting money. And isn’t that supposed to be the fun of owning a place anyway? That you can do crazy stuff to it (a mural of 1960s rock greats, a stage in the living room, a wall of mirrors) and then, presumably, fix it? In movies, they build whole montages around home improvement antics, where the leading lady wears overalls and has paint in her hair and seems to be having the time of her life.

Let this blog post mark the beginning of my campaign against this insidious idea. I will call the campaign, “It’s worth the money.” Here’s why:

The top knob is the elusive one from Target, which Daphne was never able to find.

You tear down a wall in the middle of your condo, rip out every cabinet, and bid every appliance farewell, and in the end, what do you get stuck on? Cabinet knobs. Three-dollar cabinet knobs.

More than a month ago, finding the perfect knob seemed like the easiest thing in the world. I was at the Target a few blocks from my place, so I dropped by the hardware aisle. I found two simple knobs I thought I would like and brought them home.

One of those knobs—a clear, acrylic number that looked like the glass door knobs I have throughout my place—was the obvious winner. I loved the sparkle and the simplicity. It was pretty, but not fussy. Decision made.

Back to Target, only to find that they’re out of those knobs. No problem, I thought—this is the Internet age. I checked the Web site, and they were out of stock. Still, not a big deal. Went to E-bay. They didn’t have them. I checked the manufacturer—nothing. I Googled every conceivable term that could possibly bring up these knobs. Nada.

This went on and on. I would have a down moment, and I’d look for the knobs. Or, I’d be at Target and I’d wander over to the hardware section to see if more came in. I even bought a handful of other knobs to see if I could find something else I liked. At some point, I realized that weeks had slipped by. Weeks! What was going on?!

I knew when I bought my condo that the air conditioner was on its last legs. Even if my home inspection report hadn’t said the A/C was “near the end of its lifespan,” I probably would have noticed that my apartment sounded like a junior high gymnasium. It also might not have escaped my powers of observation that my apartment generally got a little too warm before the air conditioner would kick on, and a little too cool before it would turn off. And, if all else failed, I surely couldn’t have missed my historical relic of a thermostat, which only the steadiest of hands could operate.

I reserved some money for the day that my air conditioner would quit on me. What I didn’t know, though, was that when my malicious air conditioner gave up the ghost, it would try to take my beautiful new kitchen with it.

This was a week of snafus and surprises. It probably isn’t a coincidence that this was also a week of big-time progress—the kitchen looks like a kitchen again! All of the cabinets, except one, are installed. I have started to fantasize about my first big meal once it’s all done. My living room is beautifully lit, and looks much larger than it did a month ago.

A part of me wants to scream from the rooftops how excited I am, but in the interest of full disclosure I will present The Week of Problems:

1. The electrician. I hired the electrician separately—just like I bought all the paint and appliances separately—to save money. He came over after demolition, moved a light switch, capped off several outlets, hung a chandelier, and presented me with a humongous bill. When my contractor started putting the kitchen back together, he said the electrician was supposed to check the power for the dishwasher and microwave, and that he would probably have to add new lines for those appliances. He called the electrician, who was on vacation. Electrician says, “Nobody told me.” Contractor says, “He should have known.” So now my new appliances are sitting around looking pretty instead of washing dishes or cooking food.

2. The countertops. From the beginning, I have been set on wood countertops, and I was delighted to find that I could buy them crazy cheap from Ikea. Early last week my contractor tells me that Ikea only makes wood countertops 25 inches wide—my kitchen requires 15-inch counters. Am I okay with five inches hanging over on each side? Not so much. Now, my contractor is going to cut them himself and hope for the best.

Before I walked into my freshly de-walled apartment and gazed directly into the kitchen from the living room, I had begun to doubt myself. Dealing with contractors and my building managers while trying to operate a normal work and social life is a massive and unpleasant undertaking. What’s more, after working on this for months, I had nothing to show for it.

But now that there is a giant hole where that wall used to be, I am back on board. It is fabulous! My apartment suddenly feels huge and bright, and even in its Beirut-like condition, I love being home. Welcome to my emotional roller coaster.