Constructive Criticism

The funny thing about living in a home that is essentially a 60+ year old converted summer cabin, is that it generally needs some repair work. During our initial hunt for a home two years ago, we came across some serious doozies. My favorite bargain opportunity was a delightful little home situated literally alongside a dry creek bed. Yes... LITERALLY. There was actually a water line about halfway up the side of the house. On the other side of the house, was a steep embankment of almost bare dirt and some very tall pine trees hanging at unnatural angles toward the roof. Actually in retrospect I suppose that they were perfectly natural angles - it was the location of the house in relation to the trees that seemed vaguely wrong. And by vaguely, I do mean disasterously. The real estate agent couldn't get his key to work in the lock, and after a few minutes of jiggling it, I told him not to bother. I had no intention of swimming around inside my house while waiting for the mountain to shuffle off and bury us alive in the next rain storm.

The place we finally picked was a nice exception to some of the "fixer uppers" we had looked at. The roof, for example, was not made of blue tarpaulin. The interior didn't smell like mold. The yard could be negotiated without a back hoe. The house, in fact, was in very serviceable condition as the current owners had been diligently working on making it nice. Most of the repairs that were needed were either cosmetic or were longer term problems that could be solved gradually. And so we moved in and got settled. Now after nearly two years, some of those cosmetic repairs are starting to feel more... urgent. And many of my well-intentioned DIY projects need to be finished off by someone who knows what the hell they are doing.

Firstly, I'd like to defend that last statement. I *have* managed to do some good work myself. Things that I didn't think a sheltered city boy such as myself was capable of. But I also discovered that I have limits. Stuff that I stared at and said to myself, "You do not want to even attempt that, buddy." One of those things was the completion of our detached art studio. Since the day we moved in, we were determined to convert this old storage shed into a useful art space for Staci, and a laundry room (and before I get hate mail, let me just clarify that they would absolutely be separate rooms, and that I usually do the household laundry anyways, and yay to equality in the sexes... and please don't hurt me). The shed was already wired with electricity, water, and gas. All that needed to be done was... everything else! So, we hired a carpenter to fix the floor and install a window, and then... abruptly ran out of money.

Due to an unexpected change in job status, my excess income went the way of the Dodo, and suddenly I was faced with the onerous task of finishing the job myself. No problem, I thought to myself, I'm a reasonably intelligent person. I can figure out how to finish this room in no time! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! A year later, the job remained woefully incomplete despite my best efforts. I had indeed made significant progress, putting in insulation, wallboard, rewiring the electrical, and even replacing some termite/water damaged subfloor. I felt like a veritable handyman, except for the fact that I was stuck on how to finish the ceiling, and the doorway, and... erm... all the rest. I had to admit that I was at a total impasse. I needed the help of a professional.

And so we decided to embark upon the ominous Refinance. (cue dramatic music!) It was a very tough choice to make after I spent over 10 years slaving towards paying off a college credit card - I remain very wary of burdening myself with extra debt. However, I find that one does what one must when it comes to the homestead, and so we took out most of the equity in our home in the hopes that we could better our living conditions.

I debated on whether or not to hire licensed workers to complete the studio. On the one hand, the guys that hang out in front of my local hardware/lumber store are quite cheap by the hour, but on the other hand they say that you usually get what you pay for and I wanted to be able to hire someone who could work unsupervised. And perhaps someone who spoke fluent English... or even some English. So I ended up paying top dollar for a gentleman who had a general contractor's license and many years of experience. I was fairly certain that by paying the premium price, I would get the premium service (this is why you pay the premium price, is it not?). It was worth it to me to not have to worry about all the details, and he seemed perfectly willing to handle the entire job from start to finish. He and I discussed a number of projects that I had in mind, first of which was the studio completion. He gave me a reasonable estimate that I could live with, and off we went!

This is the part of the story where I learn an important lesson about communicating with my general contractor. It seems that he mistook my easy going nature about costs and expenditures as an indication that money was unimportant to me (instead of what it was: a misplaced trust that we were on target with the estimate), and after nine days of work on a five day project (and with no end in sight)... he discovered he was wrong. It seems that his estimate was accurate in much the same way that one could say that Niagra Falls holds perhaps hundreds, if not thousands of gallons of water. Thousands, by complete coincidence... is how many dollars he was off by in his estimate. Ouch! I found myself having no choice but to stop the job. I told him that there simply wasn't any money for going any further over budget. I told him that if we were going to get the next project right, we had to stop this one. I told him that our next project was to completely renovate my only bathroom, and the estimate needed to be accurate since that wasn't a job we could stop midstream. He agreed completely with me, and said that we would be extremely careful and go over the details in... um... detail.

I should point out that the reason I didn't just fire this man, is because he was the husband of one of my co-workers. This gave me a reason to trust him, you see? Perhaps you don't see. Perhaps you are the sort of person who laughs cruelly at another's pain! Or perhaps you just have a bit more wisdom than I did. Well... experience brings wisdom, doesn't it? And I'm certainly in the process of receiving a mammoth sized load of experience. Anyways, back to the story! I figured the fiasco with the studio was as much my own fault as anyone's, since I didn't make clear that there was a cap on the funds. Well... now it was clear. Crystal clear.

Fortunately for me, the contractor completed enough of the studio job that I was able to complete the rest myself, and I must say that it looks wonderful. My floor installation was not exactly what you would call "professional", but it looks nice nonetheless. And the laundry room won't be done for quite a while, but then again the money we would have spent on the washer and dryer is gone... so I suppose it's rather a moot point. We've already started moving Staci's art related belongings into the room, and our downstairs basement/storage facility is starting to clear out and take on characteristics that one can begin to associate with an actual living space. Really it's like adding 400+ square feet to a 660 square foot house! Very exciting.

On the other hand, the bathroom project is still in progress and is going considerably less well. I generally like to keep my posts amusing or at least light hearted, and not furious tirades of primal rage, screaming hissy fits, and tear soaked sob fests. It is for this reason that I won't be posting about the bathroom until I can have that "one day we'll all look back on this and laugh" laugh. Which isn't due to be out for awhile yet. Nope... not for a long long while.