It started with a shelf. Or maybe not even a shelf — more like the suggestion of one. My partner said we needed “a better place for the keys,” and instead of buying a bowl, I decided I'd build something. Wall-mounted. Minimalist. Elegant. Or whatever people call it when they're about to drill blindly.I marked the spot beside the door, took on

Eventually, you stop blaming the house and start asking if you're the problem. Not because anything's in ruins. The bones are still holding. The roof's fine. Technically, everything works. But it also barely does.You always fight the same loose handle. You hop over that one plank that squeaks even though it's center stage. And the kitchen? A comedy