Maybe it was a good thing that we didn’t have too much detail in the CAD design we ordered from a local lumberyard. Initially, that was a miscommunication between our contractor and us, plus a looming deadline for a building permit.

The upshot was that as we watched the space open, our vision transformed. We saw new possibilities.

The first big one opted for cathedral ceilings in the four bedrooms. No big problem, said Adam.

Also, we wanted to leave the charred exterior rafters visible in the two back bedrooms. They were evidence of the 1886 downtown fire that started on the waterfront just below our house. They also reflect the original roofline, which we had now raised. And they were dramatic.

Alas, once we realized how labor-intensive (i.e., costly) keeping that touch visible would be, we opted to forgo it.

In another change, the windows in the bathroom and laundry room went from transom-style to narrow vertical.

The ceiling in the upstairs hallway was originally going to be flat, but we liked the feel of having it follow the roofline. Classy.

In the two front bedrooms, the width of the two side roofline panels was halved when we saw how much the original, aligned to the old dormers, really confined the rooms. The purpose of the panels was to keep a sense of the original profile of the house as seen from the street.  What we wound up with does the job.

After that, the windows in the front two bedrooms went from spaced apart to being placed together, centered between the two pairs of windows below.

And there were some big tweaks in closet arrangements between bedrooms. The two smaller bedrooms got larger closets while the two bigger bedrooms got open loft above those.

As I’ve said, none of the bedrooms wound up looking like rectangular boxes with holes for windows punched in.

We did encounter so many unanticipated details. Things like molding, the placement of light switches, even the door latches – you usually open them with your right hand, it turns out. I’d never thought about it. How about you?

~*~

Did we see things an architect wouldn’t? I like to think so.

In the renovation, we had periods were seemingly nothing was happening but then, BLAM!, things suddenly moved on all fronts.

This was especially true when we were at the mercy of other tradesmen and their schedules – plumbers, high on the list.

One of those involved the crew that would do the sprayed foam insulation on the front half upstairs. We decided to go with a different company than the one that had done the back, in part because the new one got back to us with a bid promptly, unlike the other. Not only that, they could get to work for us sooner than later.

That did put some pressure on Adam to get the electrical wiring and outlets in the framing before the crew showed up, so it was crunch time there.

But then the electrical panel in the basement blew out.

We were without power going into the weekend. And without heat.

Adam did have an amazing storage battery that we plugged the refrigerator into while he patched the old system.

As he said, the only thing holding the panel together was rust and spider webs.

This came only months after he had rewired the pretty much the whole house, everything but the panel and circuit-breaker box. They were scheduled for later.

And then, the whole town lost power for a few hours, all just before the weekend and the foam-spray guys on Monday.

As a further complication, we had to be out of the house for 24-hours after the foam application. We got a two-night reservation near West Quoddy State Park, in a delightful cabin overlooking Lubec Channel and all the way up to a corner of Eastport. We were so close to home and yet a world away.

The bad news came when we determined the extent of damage done by the power surge. Four of our surge protectors were fried, as was the outlet to our washer (for a while, we thought it was gone), and then a unit in our furnace was also kaput – requiring a night call for service.

It was quite a whirlwind for us.

We still needed a new electrical panel and, while they were at it, a new circuit-breaker box, too. Adam called in some allies to tackle that, and they got to us quicker than usual. The problem was getting the electric company to come promptly to cut off the power to the house and restore it.

Whew, it did happen, though the utility forgot to include a ladder with the first truck it sent out.

~*~

Perhaps this is the time to explain why we passed on the Generac backup when we moved to town. You might get a charge out of this.

Most of us, at least in the industrialized world, take reliable electrical wiring for granted. An old house, especially if you’re updating it, can remind you otherwise.

I’ve already mentioned the hot topic that Maine is prone to widespread electrical power outages. The state does have some arcane accounting details that likely abate the problem, but I’ll spare you the common rants about our utility companies and their higher-than-average rates.

One upshot is that many houses around here have emergency generators emplaced to kick in at the outbreak of an outage. Sometimes we hear that before we realize our lights and other conveniences are out.

We nearly got one ourselves, despite the high price. The tripping point turned out to be where to put the unit itself, its concrete pad etc., but especially the propane tank – a much bigger one than we thought necessary. The only viable site in our yard was in the heart of our best full sunlight, a spot we deemed more valuable as a future garden bed.

That didn’t rule out a smaller portable Honda generator in the future, though it wouldn’t go into service automatically and requires attention for the duration of an outage.

Better yet, the portable battery Adam lent us looked like the ideal solution for us, especially after we found one on sale.

We’re thinking between that and our wood stove we can ride out the typical outage.

We’ll see.