The plan was is was is to rent for a while, to relax and unwind from this 12-month slow-motion remodel. (Pix are here and here and here and here. Oh, and here. After living through -- and in -- the reno in real time, the instant payoff of the before-and-afters is addictive.)

I've been looking at rentals, I really have. In the Santa Monica mountains around here your money goes pretty far, a two- or three-bedroom house with a yard. In Malibu, Venice or Santa Monica, the same money gets you 500 square feet over someone's garage. I wish that was an exaggeration. So the trailer above, untouched since 1969, has caught my eye. The listing agent for this place has been pretty great, letting me poke around and bring different parts of my crew to evaluate and consider.

I've said 'no thanks' a couple of times, then called back to say that actually, I'd like to show it to the plumber, the roofer, the lead carpenter. Each time the agent tells me that in fact, she just opened the house up for me to take another look. Go figure.

But I'm thinking I'll pass. It's a lot of work and a lot of time and oh my lord, the endless mess. You always run into unexpected problems, feel bad about bothering the neighbors, and in every reno there's that week when you're down to a single faucet and maybe no toilet and the only place to sit is on the pile of joint compound bags stacked between the air compressor and the table saw, so yeah, I'm going to pass.

Oops -- gotta run. The AC guy just arrived to give me a bid on the ducting.