Alright, let me tell you about this sauna saga. It all started with what I thought was a brilliant idea. You know, picture this: long day, stressful work, and then just melting away all that tension in my very own home sauna. Seemed like pure bliss, right? I’d seen those fancy setups in magazines and on TV, and I got it in my head that I absolutely needed one.

So, I started looking around. Found a company, talked to a salesperson who, of course, made it sound like the best thing since sliced bread. “Easy to install,” they said. “Low maintenance,” they promised. “You’ll use it every day,” they claimed. Yeah, right. I picked one out, a nice-looking wooden cabin thing, not too big, not too small – or so I thought.

The Installation Mess

Then came the installation. Oh boy. That was the first sign of trouble. The team that showed up… well, let’s just say they weren’t the A-team. They were late, first off. Then they tracked mud all through the hallway. I specifically cleared out a corner in our spare room, which used to be a perfectly good office space, by the way. They struggled with the instructions, which looked like they were written in ancient hieroglyphics. It was supposed to be a one-day job. It stretched into three whole days. Three days of banging, drilling, and me constantly peeking in, getting more anxious by the minute.

By the time they finally “finished,” the room was a disaster zone of sawdust and discarded packaging. And the sauna itself? It looked okay, I guess, but it took up way more visual space than I’d anticipated. The room instantly felt cramped.

The “Honeymoon” Phase Was Short

For the first week, I was determined to make it worth it. I used it maybe three times. It was… okay. It got hot, sure. But here’s the thing no one tells you:

• It takes absolutely ages to heat up. Like, you have to plan your sauna session an hour in advance. Who has that kind of foresight regularly?
• The electricity bill. Oh. My. God. It shot up like a rocket. I wasn’t expecting it to be free, but this was a whole other level.
• Cleaning it is a pain. You’re sweating in there, so it needs wiping down. The wood needs care. It’s not just “set it and forget it.”

After that initial burst of enthusiasm, life just sort of happened. I’d get home from work, tired, and the last thing I wanted to do was wait an hour for the sauna to heat up. Then I’d have to shower afterwards. It all just felt like too much effort for a 20-minute sweat that I could get from a brisk walk, frankly.

The Cold, Hard Reality Now

So, what’s the situation now? That “brilliant idea” is now a very expensive, very bulky wooden box sitting in what used to be my office. I think I’ve used it maybe, and I’m being generous here, ten times in the entire year since it was installed. Ten times! For the amount of money, space, and hassle, it’s an absolute joke.

My partner gives me “the look” every time they walk past that room. The kids used it as a hiding spot for a week, then got bored. Now it’s basically a very warm, dust-collecting monument to my bad decisions. I could have used that money for a really nice vacation. I could have had a functional office. Instead, I have this… this wooden elephant in the room.

Every time I think about it, I just shake my head. I tell everyone who even casually mentions getting a home sauna, “Don’t do it! Think long and hard!” It takes up space, it costs a fortune to run, and unless you are the most disciplined person on earth, you probably won’t use it nearly as much as you dream you will. I truly, deeply regret getting that thing. It’s just a constant reminder of a really expensive mistake. So yeah, “我家装了汗蒸房后悔死了” (I installed a sauna room in my house and regret it to death) is pretty much the perfect summary of my experience.