Costs & Choices (Apr 3 2026)

My contractor asked if we wanted nice lighting.
“Depends the alternative and the cost”. 

I’m somewhat surprised by his surprise at my answer.
Like.
Sure: of course I want nice lighting. If you ask me that question in a vacuum, the answer is definitely yes.
But that question is only meaningful if it has a comparison.
What is the other option for lighting?
What are the actual trade-offs?
Is “nice” lighting one million dollars, while “normal” lighting is a buck fifty seven? 

I keep running into this situation with contractors.
I hired this contractor due to their line items.
I decided not to get a recessed niche in my shower… 
due to that shower niche being ~$2k.
At $2k, we’ll put our shampoo on the windowsill. 

My contractor – and his designer – often find this approach confusing.
It’s not that I’m unwilling to spend money.
It’s that I can’t say “yes” to a thing without even a ballpark.
And that ballpark should come with a basic comparison.
Do people not do simple economic analyses when renovating a home?
Not even a super-deep preference list, but just a simple “This light costs $100. That light costs $200. Would I pay an additional $100 for that light?”
On plenty of parts, my preference ended up being cheaper

In working with my designer, we must train each other to work well together.
One part of that is the way he proposes options. 

I hired him for his opinion and skill.
I want his recommendation – not merely to view all the options and choose myself.
And I also want his tradeoffs: what are the traits that would lean you toward this over that, and what are the summaries of other reasonable options? 

I don’t know how other people choose their elements
but I can do the simple gut check of “Would I pay $375 for an additional power outlet there?” 
That’s the beauty of money: it’s a universal comparison.
The best things in life are priceless.
For everything else, it’s a clear unit.

Charades with Cards (Mar 29 2026)

In which Our Hero reflects on reflecting. 

My family has been playing a card game for the last week.
Every day up til midnight or 1 or 2am.

One element I like: Mainly playing the game; not too much discussion/reflection about the game.
It’s a game where the point is to learn how to communicate intricate information without language.
Language & clear behavioral conventions therefore ruin it.

The topic has come up: what analysis/discussion is desirable, and what is not? 

Here’s my opinion and reasoning: 

The key is the novelty of information: 

  • If someone does not know what a communication means, sharing its meaning is bad.
    • (The game is learning what communication means. Resolving that tension through clear information removes that learning.) 
  • If someone does know what a communication means but made a logical mistake, pointing out this mental flaw is acceptable, but not necessary.
    • (If they know that 3 minus 2 is 1 and 4 minus 3 is 1, but they accidentally make a move that implies 3 minus 2 is 0 while 4 minus 3 is 2, pointing that out after the game doesn’t chip away at the value of the game while it does improve their mechanics.) 

In short, if a statement would be new information to someone, don’t tell them. If it would be old news but they made a mistake, tell them. 

Assumptions: 

  • The game is about what I think the game is about. 
  • One can accurately determine with a high degree of accuracy what others know.
  • Even without others’ advice, each person can improve individually to a degree / with a speed that is satisfying for them 

And a final follow-up: 

  • The game might be even better with no reflecting afterwards.
    • Maybe even the “this person already knows this but just made a mistake” is just too difficult to separate from “this person actually doesn’t know this thing”.
      • (Theory of mind is hard! Something I think that you know may be completely unknown to you… or the way I communicate something to you might change your entire psychological paradigm about the game. If the whole point is the communicative tension, keeping tension might be… …. … good!) 
    • Maybe the game itself being slow to improve is part of what will make it interesting for my family for time to come. (Often we will run into walls where we play a game for a while as a family, then lose interest and move onto another game. If we keep this game minimally-discussed, does that elongate the duration we enjoy it?) 
    • Perhaps the only time to reflect and dissect is therefore when NOT reflecting/dissecting would be intolerable. Like if someone says “I’m not having fun any more because I’m no longer growing. Can you do something to kick me off of my local maximum?” 

This ends JuJu’s analysis of a silly, fun activity. 

Forging the Foundation (Mar 25 2026)

Measure twice, cut once. 

15 contractors interviewed, of which: 

  • 4 fired me on the first call when I wouldn’t tell them a budget. 
  • 2 submitted proposals without walkthroughs, of which:
    • One was way too high, with unreasonable structural terms that brought to mind the anger of a jilted lover. 
    • One was nondescript. (I guess that’s what you get when you don’t even do a walkthrough.) 
  • 9 visited for walkthroughs, of which:
    • 1 started as the leader of the pack; I then realized he was making me worry about the wrong things. 
    • 1 wears Carhartt to “dress the part”, but has no actual substance along with this appearance. 
    • 1 mis-estimated the size of my apartment by about 3x after looking at architectural drawings. 
    • 3 never sent proposals (lol!)
    • 1 came in so low as to seem scammy. They also call me every other day, even though I haven’t replied in weeks (lol.) 
    • 2 seemed reasonable, of which:
      • 1 failed to refer me to their recommended architect when I requested (and then stopped talking to me for reasons uncertain, but perhaps that I answered honestly his question “What are you thinking about our proposal?” with “You’re currently second place in my final three”.) 
      • 1 has nailed down scope and is finalizing contract terms.
        • UPDATE THREE HOURS LATER: WE HAVE SIGNED. I HAVE A CONTRACTOR. WOOHOO!!! 

I really don’t think I’m a problem client.
I wouldn’t mind working with me.
I would need to be clear about expectations and boundaries.
I would need to feel comfortable saying, “That’s a no from me, dawg.” 

But I’m not a blocker.
I care about quality and enabling my team to succeed.
And when I say I’ll do something, I do it. 

And in return, the contractor will receive: 

  1. Money. Lots of money.
    1. Incredulous question: How the hell do people buy renovations without negotiating scope or terms? Some of these were shocking:
      1. I saved at least 10% on the total cost by simply saying “this seems high” to a bunch of terms and he came down on them. 
      2. I saved at least 15% by simply saying “What is this thing?” and then saying “We don’t need it” when the price was higher than my value. Recessed shelf in shower for $2100? Nope. Stone step in front of shower for $500? Nope. If it ain’t functional, good chance I don’t want it. 
  2. Referrals. Multiple referrals.
    1. Because I vet my contractors and vendors aggressively, peers take my advice. My sister is about to renovate her apartment. Is she going to spend 5 months going from 15 to 9 to 3 to 1? Or will she trust that my analysis is worthwhile (and even just use my contract structure, which I went back-and-forth with him on four times, lol.) 
  3. Focus and edits and improvements, oh my!
    1. One part of my contractor’s contract had him proposing usurious terms in case of nonpayment. A quick google showed these as 1) non-enforceable, and 2) a criminal violation! Like very illegal!! A totally reasonable person might have let him keep those terms. But I told him how to improve them. And now he’ll probably fix his standard contract. That’s nice. 

My contractor search started in September. Today, it is March 26th. This may be the second biggest personal purchase I ever make (after the home itself). Shouldn’t I do it right? 

Co Op Corruption (Mar 25 2026)

In which ugh you’re so annoying… … …. 

The property management company emailed me. URGENT, the subject line says. Leak in my line. Two floors down. From my apartment ??? !!! ??? !
They offered tomorrow. What times can I do?
Any time from 10:30am to 5pm.
Okay; the plumber will arrive between 9 and 11am. 

Wait, what?
I offered 10:30am to 5pm. That 6.5 hour span. You can’t just say a different time. 

My tone was clear, direct, and firm. I did not say, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I did not say, “It’s unreasonable behavior like this that makes our apartment building want to fire you… which, by the way, is our third priority for this year.”
I told them no. I offered today instead. I also said that they could send their person tomorrow before 10:30am if he’s okay waiting in the hallway. 

This experience reminds me of the time they replied to my query email with a completely incomplete set of information. You know, the time I asked a very simple, reasonable question about sequencing A or B first, and their answer said, “IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO…” and then missed the actual meat. Like the sender accidentally deleted the email right before hitting send. 

Or the time they owed me two key fobs to my apartment building and told me they’d deliver them on Wednesday. But Wednesday came and went. So she promised me Monday. But Monday was a blizzard. So definitely this week. Except Friday came: no fobs. So the following Tuesday, when I called, she said, “They’re coming today”. 

Sure. It happened. So I guess that’s a win.
What’s not a win?
The two week delay. 

Shortly after moving in, I asked my building’s superintendent why the management company is so incompetent. He said they take kickbacks from the repair people they send out. 

Dispatch from the building’s shareholder meeting: everyone hates the management company. They orchestrated the fixing of the facade. No feasibility study was done ahead of time and it ended up costing $870k, which everyone was surprised by. $70k of it was the cost of scaffolding alone as the scaffolding was up for TWO YEARS.

Someone else complained that they received a bill from the management company for $300 for a painter they sent out. “They charged me $300 for a four foot painter! He couldn’t even paint nothing because he didn’t bring no ladder and he was four feet tall!”

There were probably 2-3 other complaints, including about dead door lock batteries (leading to inability to open the package room for 6 days), poor heat (they control the computer-controlled thermostat), and egregious fees, all targeted at the management company.

It’s time to fire! 😀

Talking to Strangers (Mar 18 2026) 

In which Our Hero makes a new friend

“Is this your pillow?” The well-groomed man from Galveston Texas holds out my pillow in offering. 

“Yes,” I say and take it. He sits down beside me, to my right, and immediately plugs his charger into our shared outlet. 

Three minutes later, I ask my father, “is that your light that’s pointing down at me?” 

My father says no. I illuminate my screen. The screen shows an advertisement, then another. The clock in the corner counts down from nearly 3 minutes. 

“Three minutes worth of ads?” I say to no one in particular. 

The light switches off. “It was my light,” says the well-groomed man from Galveston Texas. 

 “You heading to Paris for business or vacation?” I ask. 

“Neither. My wife’s father died.” 

“Recently?” 

“Today.” 

“Was it sudden?” 

“Very sudden. Heart attack.” 

You ever talk to someone and it’s especially smooth, like the caramel inside of a Lindt chocolate truffle oozing slowly out of its shell. If I liked men and he weren’t married and I weren’t engaged… 

Harrison is an interior designer. Not an architect (that’s the requirement to be a floor plan submitter in New York), but he works with a lot of architects. He draws the plans for them to submit. 

I check the specifics. “If I showed you a bathroom and said ‘is that a prototype?’, you’d be able to spot it in your sleep?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Feel free to say no. Can I ask you a couple questions?” 

He agrees. I pull up my floorplan. “I got these three bathrooms. This left one is accessible. And the right ones: one of the doorways is 28 inches, the other 24 inches, and one of them opens up off the kitchen.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Harrison says. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“But bathrooms need to have doorways 32 inches clear.” 

“It’ll probably get through. You have the accessible one over there.” 

“That’s not code.” 

“I know. But they’re [the examiners are] reasonable. And the bathroom off the kitchen: I’ve never seen it enforced.” 

“That’s one thing I’ve loved about New York City: the rules are only rules if you’re also bothering other people. If you aren’t affecting anyone, people generally let you alone.” 

Harrison laughs. “And even if they don’t, you can always draw 32 inch doors and then just install smaller ones. We’ve been working for five years with a building that requires 34 inch doors. We’ve never installed a single one.” 

Thank you, Harrison. 

Yes, that is my pillow. 

Thank you for helping me sleep easier.

Fast, Delayed (Mar 13 2026)

In which Our Hero chills the fuck out. 

Three days ago I wanted to fast.
I’ve done long fasts before. When I need to clear my head.
Partner says I’m less sharp when I fast.
At one point I mused that I may be 80% as effective, but focus for 200% as long. 

My emotions are duller. Chiller. Easier.
It’s like the old food bank advertisement: “Nothing else matters when you’re hungry.” 

I like being hungry.
It fills me with emptiness.
The sort of emptiness that allows for replenishment. 

At least one close relative is made uncomfortable by my fasting.
They think – and commented – and rightfully so – that it sounds like something I can control when I feel out of control.
Okay.
Sure.
I guess that’s somewhat disordered? 

I’m not sure whether the damage of this sort of behavior is the magnitude or frequency.
Alcohol or cannabis or opiates have a similar sitch.
Why are you doing it? What are the effects? How stable are you and why and wherefore? How much does it hurt you or those around you? 

On Tuesday I wanted to fast. I missed the equipment. (I like to take ketones on the first day of a fast.) I wasn’t stressed, per se, but I could feel myself getting there.
When making a big decision or undergoing a life change.
I acquired the items through the online internet. 

On Thursday, they arrived.
Today, I fast. 

I wish I had fasted earlier. Had acquired the items in person (New York has everything!) or performed a less-perfect version of accessing ketosis sans ketones.
Last night, I stayed awake until 4, very much not wanting to.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind spun and crashed out. 

Today, I might have arrived at a bathroom solution.
And my most-likely contractor sent an acceptable quote.

What are other options? I don’t like drinking or drugs.
I used to run long distance, a similar effect. 

Sometimes I fast. I like it. It works. 

It’s nice to have a clearer mind during times of intensity.
And today I ran 5 miles, the farthest since breaking my foot. 

Tomorrow, I may eat.
How glorious that will be. 

An Arbitrary Quest (Mar 7 2026)

In which our activities arrive us. 

At 1pm, Partner and I set out on the road. She had returned from the gym; I from a Peloton workout. Onwards we went, to Flushing, Queens in search of dumplings. 

As we left, Partner mentioned I would enjoy spending more time outside. The sun is nice; brightness a boost; the last few days I have spent poring over floorplans and calling contractors. 

Flushing offers world-renowned dumplings. So off we went. 

One block away, the sun felt so nice. “What if instead…” I offered. We arrived at the subway but did not enter. 45 minutes on a train seemed not the move. 

Instead, we took that left turn at Albuquerque. 

Two blocks down, a mid-40s black woman emerged from a bodega. She saw Partner and me, walking holding hands. She burst out into song: “I wanna hold your ha-aa-aand”. We joined in. For fifteen glorious seconds, the Beatles were performing a free concert in New York City. She laughed and we laughed; we continued onward up north. 

Three blocks later, we entered the Malcolm Shabazz market. The first stand sold African textiles. The second, African textiles. “Perhaps we could find mitmita,” Partner said.  “They might only sell textiles,” I replied. I then saw a new offering: shea butter. “I guess they do have food,” I mused, then realized shea butter is for haircare. 

Onwards we walked. Right on 125th St. We noted the incoming 2nd Avenue train. In we walked to a rare soda shop. Or at least we would have, had they not been closed. Then to a two-story grocery store offering free samples of Dominican sausage. We used the bathroom. I checked my phone for bad news from one contractor. 

Onwards east til we found the river. Then over the river to Randall’s Island. On Randall’s Island, dirtbikers doing wheelies. We watched for a minute or two. Nikki told me in D.C. the ATVs do wheelies down the street. They can’t see where they’re going while wheelie-ing. One hit a pedestrian. The pedestrian died. 

On Randall’s Island, we reconsidered the work we’ll do on the apartment. What do we actually want? How much is worth doing? At what expense? We returned to our goals: 1) sufficiently functional; 2) live in community. 

5 bedrooms, 3 bath. Open kitchen with island. Flatten the floors. Raise the ceiling in our bedroom and the little nook. Everything else is optional. 

I’d like to raise the ceiling in the kitchen & living room too. I’d like to raise it in every room. I’d like to shuffle the radiators around. And run new electrical to the apartment. 

But the difference between everything and enough is the difference between financially comfortable and fearful. 

A renovation can always cost more. You can always add more gold-plated toilets. 

We want it to be good enough. 

I live in New York City.
I live here because life is lived outside.
Right now, it’s cold. Even still, we walked to Queens.
Home needs to be a refuge. A solid base. Sufficient. 

It doesn’t need 12-foot ceilings everywhere.
Only where we’ll use them. 

We didn’t make it to Flushing.
Waylaid in Astoria by a friend and some Thai food. 

I lived for three months in Thailand and Laos.
Khao Soi is one of my comfort foods.
This one brought me back to those $4 lunches.
A bit under-spicy, but they probably clocked me as white. 

My first night in Thailand, I paid for the $6 hotel room.
A single power outlet jutted out beside the lightswitch.
I perched my phone on the lightswitch while charging. 

A broke college student, I hadn’t paid for the air conditioning room.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
The next day, I switched rooms. 

It’s hard to predict what’s key and what’s choice.
Induction cooktop avoids asthma vs gas-powered ones.
5 bedrooms: 2 bathrooms or three? 

A lot of the time, it’s “If we’re doing that, we might as well…”
And yes, I agree it’d be nice to have a light in the hall closet.
But also, we don’t now. And it’s fine.
We can raise each ceiling as we want to. Roommates won’t care; and raising them doesn’t require a permit. 

I wish I could do everything I want right now.
I may still. But what we want keeps growing. 

It’s hard to nail down the right choice in such a situation. Every dollar is a tradeoff. I’m excited to elevate. 

We set off to Flushing for world-class dumplings.
We arrived in Astoria for khao soi with a friend.
I’m glad to have gone through the “everything I’d ever want” exercise.
Now, take that left turn, rest your legs, and wake up. 

A Love/Hate Relationship (Mar 3 2026)

In which Our Hero Oscillates

A note I jotted yesterday: 

One reason I like New York: 

  • Tomorrow I plan to swing by the Manhattan Department of Buildings for their walk-in office hours. They’re open from 4-7pm at 280 Broadway. I will ask them about ADA accessibility and exceptions. 
  • There exist only two induction cooktops with knobs and downdrafts. One is massive and ugly and only ships to the EU. The other has three showrooms in New York City, one of which is at… 280 Broadway! 

Not only did a question occur to me today, and tomorrow I get it answered. But a second question occurred to me (“what’s the cooktop like?”) and I get to answer that, too! At the same address

Today’s follow-up: 

Goddamnit, why won’t you let me make my own bathroom the way I want?
Don’t tell me that I want an ADA-compliant bathroom.
Don’t tell me that one day I might want one.
Don’t paternalize me about my own preferences of how I want to organize my own fucking home.
This isn’t about wet over dry.
This has no impact on anyone else’s safety. 

Even if I had a child who ended up in a wheelchair, I wouldn’t want an ADA-compliant bathroom. ADA compliance requires 32” doors. A child-size wheelchair is 22.5in wide. Adult wheelchairs max out at 26” wide. I want to build one bathroom with a 28”-wide door. If I need grab handles, I will install them later. This is not a commercial establishment. This is my own home. If I want a 7’ long by 3’ wide bathtub, you should let me do that in my own goddamn space, not force me to have a 5’ long tub in order to allow for wheelchair rotation clearance. The bathroom is only 40 square feet, and you want to dedicate 10% of it to some theoretical future person who can’t even fit in my front door? 

“What’s that,” you ask? “Why won’t they be entering the front door?” 

My concrete-surrounded front door is only 27” wide. (29” with the door removed). Last I checked, 27” is narrower than 32”. It’s even narrower than 29”, and that’s assuming you want the handicapped visitor to remove the door and reattach it every time they enter. Why would you want to do that to them? Talk about inaccessible! 

This is why people vote small government. 

Parties & Penises (Mar 1 2026)

Sometimes days off are the most exhausting of all. 

I feel fear.
Fear about the largesse of what I’m doing.
Not about the wrongness.
Just the largesse. 

This morning I awoke excited for a day of poker & bedrot.
But my partner (who is currently in San Francisco) texted me about a potluck in Brooklyn.
The potluck: 11:30am. Her text: 9:45am. So I sprinted through a 20min Peloton ride and hightailed it to Brooklyn.

I enjoyed the party. Two people who I especially enjoyed. One an excellent storyteller and the other a skilled hypeman

Then, two hours of poker. I dialed up my social shenanigans while dialing in my poker playing. Crushed the game. Save for one situation where I lost a 47% vs 53% scenario for $100, the cards were win-win-win! 

Then, at the subway station en route to a friend’s penis party (more on that later), a woman held out her phone with a picture, asking me how to get to Times Square. Her language sounded familiar. I said, “French?” She said, “Creole”. 

I tried French to no avail. Must be too distant from her creole (despite it clearly being French-influenced). I successfully got her to the right station. But it was through a series of sounds and gestures (“boop. Boop. Bing!” means “not this station, not that station, but the one after”.) Sometimes all those years of French class are less effective than the communication skills I’ve recently learned from my year-and-a-half-old nephew! 

Finally, at the penis party. 5 years, he’s had it. (A phalloplasty, specifically.)
The food? Tacos (heh) and penis-shaped cake (pronounced “cock”). 

I liked these folks. Lots of laughs, an Irish catholic lesbian my new favorite among them. Great sense of humor and vibrancy for dark humor in life. 

That lesbian is a building examiner. She says if my architect self-certifies, I don’t have a building examiner. That’s nice. Sounds like I’ll pass code! 

Walking home from the subway, I’m struck by a few elements: 

  1. I’m afraid. Fearful. Terrified. Of becoming house poor. It makes sense to me. I see how people do it. 
  2. My community is diverse. This morning’s pot luck was 100% tech or tech-adjacent. My favorite people were a couple of churchgoing presbyterian boarding-school grads. Then, everybody at the party tonight was either trans, jewish, or both (or the plus-one of someone trans or jewish). It’s no coincidence that the host is trans and jewish. 
  3. For years I’ve asked, “Who are my people?” At least I’ve found those people self-select. Autistic, definitely. Intellectual, yes. But aside from those traits, I don’t think it’s as clear as it would be for my trans & Jewish friend. 

Sometimes I wonder how much we’re carved by influential experiences that we didn’t select. By how much our scars draw us to others who’ve experienced similar. 

Then I walk home. Suddenly, I’m all alone. It’s glorious and sad. Lonely and elevated. Freedom and…

no. that’s it.
just freedom. 

Treadmills (Feb 28 2026) 

Criticism is best spoken directly to the creators. 

Tonight I experienced excellent performance art. Insightful observations, beautifully executed. What follows is my letter to its creators: 

My Dearest Pony Cam, 

Thank you for a guffaw-provoking show. I enjoyed it from the Chef’s Table this evening. Both my partner (a trick-or-treating ghost) and I (the diner in the blue hat) will speak very highly of your show to our friends and family. 

After leaving and discussing the show with another group of patrons (they recognized me as I was passing their dinner table two blocks away), I have one observation/suggestion for you to think about. 

I see merit in the show’s ending (the explicit Ok Go reference, alongside the dance performance of that video). I think that the dance would benefit from a clearer host-to-audience emotional framing before it happens. 

  • Is it cheeky self-aware appreciation of the lineage of treadmill performance art (“That’s the best we can do with treadmills. And here’s the second best…”? 
  • Is it self-effacing (“We know when you return to work on Monday you’ll need some way to tell your colleagues what you saw. You’ll say, “Four people performing on treadmills.” They’ll say, “Oh, like the OKGO music video?” And you’ll say “Yes, exactly like that.” [Cue dance])? 

The dance performance felt like an unframed homage. And, after such a beautifully constructed show, it felt like watching an innovative troupe ending with a cover. (Imagine Pink Floyd just ending a concert with a cover (but not making it clear why)). Even just a “We really want to acknowledge our roots” would change the experience, giving that dance meaning rather than only spectacle and (for some people) nostalgia. 

Depending on what you’re trying to achieve with the treadmill section, I could imagine a few different framings. I’d love to chat more about your goal here and brainstorm ideas.

Happy to chat about it more, as well as any other aspects of my experience of the show. (And to misuse the idiom, feel free to tell me to go fuck spiders 🙂 Hope this observation is helpful! 

Thanks for a great night!

Julian 

[My phone number]