Do-It-Yourself Home Repair Adventures

ALTHUMBS, WA - Humor Volcano's new Home and Cesspool guru reporter Howie Hurtz, theoretical sewage recycler, empathises with our DIY readers in his first Saving Money on Home Improvement installment:

Among the overwhelming joys of home ownership are the inevitable do-it-yourself upgrades and repair projects that crop up on a regular basis. The pleasure then typically escalates into excruciating ecstasy because jumping into the first project nearly always snowballs into several more related projects, planned or, more frequently, unplanned. Such unforeseen excursions may be no big deal for those who grew up taking apart and rebuilding washing machines, back patios, and rocket motors. I, unfortunately, am not one of them.

Take, for example, recent Project No. 1, the replacement of the tattered, faded curtains on the two large windows in our upstairs study. My wife and I endured those late ‘60s era flower power curtains for 15 years after buying our fixer-upper house before we concluded that we had to put them out of our misery. Classy, durable, non-hallucinogenic new curtains, we decided, however, would be prohibitively expensive, so we opted to go for vertical blinds instead.

Tape measure in hand, we painstakingly sketched out the dimensions of each window, then scurried off to the window treatment superstore to pick out the new blinds. Despite the nearly overwhelming range of possible designs, fabrics, and colors, we reached a consensus with a minimum of marital bloodshed and placed the order. “They’ll be ready for pickup in one week,” the clerk said. We could hardly wait to upgrade the eyesore of those LSD bad-trip old curtains.

Then the fun started. While my wife ran out to pick up the new blinds, I began removing the decrepit curtains from the two windows. The room quickly filled with a cloud from probably 40 years worth of dirt and dust as those curtains came down off the rods and into a heap on the floor. Then, carefully perched high on a ladder, I gingerly took apart the horizontal rods and pulleys and tossed them into the dump-bound pile as well. Getting the infernal curtain support brackets out of the wall is what launched the project avalanche.

The screws holding the brackets into the wall were so old and rusted that they refused to budge. After considerable effort with most of my toolbox and much colorful language, the brackets eventually yielded. To ugly, brute force. With great malice and ill will, I ultimately yanked the whole things right out of the wall, brackets, screws, anchors and all. Of course, that left behind fist-sized craters in the walls beyond the outer edges of the window frames. Drat.

Project No. 2 was thus born—patching up the gaping holes in the wall. A few strips of joint tape followed by a couple of layers of vinyl spackling took care of the holes easily enough, but immediately revealed the need for Project No. 3. The white hole patches hideously contrasted with the color of the walls, so the entire room then begged to be repainted. Which meant bookcases full of books had to be emptied and moved, furniture and framed pictures moved, two trips to Home Depot to buy paint, walls painted, bookshelves dusted, bookcases and furniture relocated, and books and pictures ultimately returned.

Finally, several days later than planned, the new vertical blinds went up smoothly and without incident, almost like I knew what I was doing. Gleefully, the blinds and walls looked fabulous. Except that then the wooden trim around the windows looked sadly faded and neglected, screaming for a new coat of paint as well. My being spent from the rest of the ordeal, that project still waits on the ‘Honey-do’ list.

Another example of home repair adventures occurred four years ago when we noticed that a spot in the linoleum kitchen floor had begun to pucker up like a wart on a frog’s back. Over the next few weeks, the area became larger and larger until about one-fourth of the floor was bubbling up like a witches’ brew. I guessed that, since the linoleum was probably 30 years old, maybe the glue had finally failed and it was time to replace the linoleum. Easy enough, I figured. I can handle that. Hah.

Removing the ski-mogul linoleum with a sharp box-cutter revealed a much bigger, foreboding issue. The wooden subfloor was moist and partially rotten from the middle of the room by the refrigerator to all the way to under the sink and dishwasher. Apparently, the old dishwasher had a leak which had insidiously seeped under the linoleum and trashed the floor. So we then needed to repair the sub-floor and dishwasher in addition to replacing the linoleum. That dishwasher must not have gotten the memo that appliances are supposed to make our lives carefree and easier. Ours was stabbing us in the wallet.

Even better, since the damage also extended beneath the floor cabinets, they had to come out, too. Obviously, the deconstruction and reconstruction needed was far beyond my amateur beer-league abilities. After a visit from our friendly kitchen contractor, the simple linoleum replacement job exploded into a full-blown kitchen remodel and rebuild. Several weeks and many thousands of hard earned dollars later, we became the beaming, proud owners of a beautiful new ceramic tile kitchen floor, flat as an army private’s crew cut, guaranteed never to pucker. Plus new wall-to-wall cabinets with granite countertops, new stainless steel appliances and sink, new windows, and even new recessed dimmable ceiling lights. The joy.

An annoying drip around the hot water handle in the shower of our half-bathroom a few years earlier had proceeded along similarly catastrophic lines. Armed with my Time-Life Plumbing-For-Stressed-Out-Aging-Homeowners repair book, and the expectation that only an O-ring replacement inside the handle’s valve would be needed, I shut off the water main and went to work. Or more accurately, attempted to go to work. The screw-and-handle assembly was so corroded that I couldn’t get it apart, even after applying my strongest language. Time to call in a professional. Oh-oh.

The plumber eventually arrived, forced the handle off, and discovered that more than a new O-ring was needed. Much, much more. The leak was coming from behind the wall, meaning that the ceramic shower tiles and the plaster wall were between us and a successful repair. When the plumber returned from his truck with a sledgehammer, I braced myself for the impending, imposing impact. In more ways than one.

Once inside the wall, what did we find but damp and rotting boards, beams, and flooring in addition to a leaky pipe valve connection. Kablooie. Ten grand instantly evaporated from my bank account and within a couple of weeks our leaky shower handle was assuredly fixed. Actually better than fixed, since it was then surrounded by a shiny new shower in a brand-spanking, sparkling, floor-to-ceiling all-new bathroom. Brings tears of happiness to my eyes just thinking about it.

You get the picture. Home ownership, particularly of an older house, is a handyman’s dream. An amazing number of apparently minor upgrades and repair jobs suddenly escalate into large-scale crises, mechanical, financial, and emotional. Out of kindness, I’ll spare you the details of the sticky garage door, the balky central heat thermostat, and the blown fuses when we turned on the clothes dryer. Suffice it to say that I‘ve had more than my fair share of home repair enjoyment.

Now you’ll have to excuse me while I re-grout a couple of loose tiles in the main bathroom floor….

05.19.09

(An earlier version of this article appeared in Triond.com)