Good Design Takes Time

I lived in my first home on Parkwood for just shy of a decade. I spent those years renovating, honing, and tweaking the space to perfection—which I learned from Katherine Morgan Schafler means completely done, not flawless. Once it was finished, I sold it. I was ready for a new challenge.

When my home has unresolved elements, I experience a mix of excitement and tension—the architect in me loves solving problems, but the minimalist loves peace. As I explore potential solutions, cycling through countless iterations, my self-doubt peaks—Will I ever figure this out?

When the puzzle is finally resolved, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite my uncertainty during the process, I know the answer will come given enough time and patience.

That pull between wanting a project and wanting peace nearly led to the sale of our condo on Davis. In December, we found a stunning historic home in Church Hill, remodeled down to the studs by an architect and master carpenter duo. When people heard we were moving, the overwhelming response was, “Why? You already have the perfect home!” While I appreciated the sentiment, I am hyper-aware of every improvement that remains.

Aside from cosmetic tweaks like fresh paint and lighting, the Church Hill home was completely done. The allure of that resolution was overwhelming. I am infinitely harder on my own choices than someone else’s, so buying a home where every thoughtful decision had already been made felt like a massive respite—a way to step directly into peace.

Of course, anyone who knows me chuckled at my insistence that I wouldn’t need to touch a thing. It was only a matter of time before I started a queue of projects.

When both the Church Hill purchase and the condo sale fell through, I felt a sense of relief. I didn’t want to leave my neighborhood and I wasn’t actually craving a new home—I was searching for a break from my own inner critic.

Just like Parkwood, I’m realizing Davis might take a decade to feel completely done—we’ve only been here for four years. I am a firm believer in slow, intentional design, and I know patience pays off. When I feel the tension of unresolved elements, I remind myself: good design takes time.