A few years ago, I had what I truly believed was a brilliant idea: add a closet to my dining room.

If you’ve ever lived in an old home, you know closets are basically unicorns—rare, elusive, and highly coveted. Houses like The Jewell House were built in an era when storage wasn’t a priority and possessions were fewer. But we live in modern times and closets are necessary. Getting creative with storage solutions has been a bit problematic however, I thought the closet addition would help solve that issue.

I found a pair of vintage doors at my local salvage store that had the perfect amount of detail.

I spent an entire week stripping layers of paint, uncovering their history inch by inch. As the doors came back to life I liked how rustic and raw they looked so I left them in their natural form.

I hired a contractor from Next door who I thought understood my vision of the space.

What I didn’t do was double-check the measurements… or the scale… or how it would actually look in the space.

The result was a closet that was comically oversized—too big, too heavy, and completely wrong for the room. It disrupted the flow, blocked the light, and changed the energy of the dining room in a way I couldn’t ignore. Every time I walked past it, the house seemed to quietly remind me that it just wasn’t right. It felt wrong and misplaced.

And yet, the closet stayed. For a few years anyway.

Because part of restoring an old home is learning that mistakes happen—and part of being human is sometimes living with them longer than you should. I tried to rationalize it. Styled around it. Told myself it was practical. But deep down, I knew something was off. I am a true believer in restoring and not renovating to the extent it changes the feel and aesthetic of the home. This was a big disappointment and truly humbled me. I knew this was all wrong so over Thanksgiving weekend I was making some updates to the kitchen and decided this was the time to do something about the closet. I am hosting friends this upcoming week along with a few Christmas gatherings so I wanted the house to shine a little brighter than usual. The closet needed to go.

I picked up a hammer, bought myself a Sawzall, and started the demo without a second thought. I had no idea what or how I was going to do it on my own. My son was working, as he was on a work call. I called my wonderful and thoughtful Dad who gave me a few pointers.

It was incrediby satisfying undoing a decision that no longer aligns with the spirit of my home. Drywall dust and debris everywhere. In just moments my home was a construction zone.

The closest was finally gone and the dining room returned to what it was always meant to be: open, balanced, with a little bit of elegance.

This blog isn’t about perfection or Pinterest-ready renovations. It’s about living honestly with old spaces—learning when to preserve, when to restore, and when to admit you got it wrong. It’s about respecting history while making room for real life. And sometimes, it’s about trusting your instincts enough to grab the hammer and start over.

Sometimes the most meaningful restoration isn’t adding something new. It is hard to admit when you have made a major mistake. I lost money and time on this project, only to take it down. But there was a lesson in the mess, and I learned how to use a snazzy new power tool.

It was a proud moment for me, and I’m always grateful to for the lesson. Next time around I’ll remember to use my measuring tape or better yet hire a contractor that aligns with my vision.

Thanks for following along in my messy but happy little life at The Jewell.