Cherry Grove Beach, SC, circa 1950 Would you fork over a small fortune for a slice of your family’s history? Even if that slice looks like it hasn’t seen an update since the Eisenhower administration? The asking price is a jaw-dropping $950K. Now, would that price tag make you reconsider if that piece of history was just a hop, skip, and a jump from the ocean? I know I would (if I could). After all, I’m married to a handyman who’s too busy saving the world—one paying customer

Do you ever feel like you’re drowning in stuff — like the house is personally gaslighting you? Because same. I’m a 51‑year‑old, ADHD, perimenopausal woman just trying to survive the daily chaos without retreating to my bedroom and waiting for the mythical House Organizing Fairy Godmother to swoop in and rescue my overstimulated brain. And don’t even get me started on the kitchen. We have all lived in this house the exact same number of years, and yet I am still the only human

Years ago, when we bought our first house, B and I decided we needed a pool. Not wanted—needed. The backyard was sloped like a ski hill, so an in‑ground pool was a no-go. Naturally, we went with an above‑ground and thought, “Hey, let’s just build a giant deck around it so it feels in-ground.” Because why not casually take on a small construction project the size of a starter home? Since this kind of thing was in B’s wheelhouse, we decided to DIY it. And by “we,” I mean B had

March zipped by, and April’s almost gone! My husband’s busy building his business, and I’m swamped at work, so home improvements are definitely on the back burner. But we’re super excited about our son’s wedding coming up on May 30. We kicked off upstairs hallway renovations a few weeks ago—ripped out the old carpet, but bronchitis hit pause on progress. Now that I’m back in action, I’m brainstorming ways to brighten up the hallway. With the dog’s doors closed, there’s zero n

When we moved into our house, it was only five years old and didn’t need much in the way of upgrades. Fast‑forward four years, and suddenly the builder‑grade guest bathroom is mocking me with its plainness. I’ve been dreaming about built‑ins next to the fireplace, reimagining the bookshelves in my home office, and don’t even get me started on the laundry room—the tile in there has got to go. My husband, Brian—the “B” in B’s Home Repair—can tackle any project I throw at him. I