'This Ol' House -- Fixed for us by us
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"Honey, we just went by this house, I want to take a look."
"A house? Why can't we just live with my parents?"
You can probably guess who said the first line and who said the second. But that was the exchange in February 2008 that led to the purchase of my wife's and my first home.
When we walked in with the realtor, we found the home to be a quaint little place. It had the worst, smelly green carpet, no shower and an electric box that would scare Bob Vila away. It was perfect.
It was perfect because I had exclusive access to my own private contractor. Someone who could do everything the house needed and required. Someone who could make the house safe for our young son and nice enough to bring family over.
Actually, my contractor was a two-headed genius. I did most of the labor and learned along the way. My dad was the brains.
My father, Sam, had the knowledge on everything I needed. Of course, he had built one house and renovated another. Plus, he had all the tools. So, with my wife and I doing the labor and Dad with the knowledge, we turned the house from disaster to liveable within four months.
The first task was removing that smelly green carpet. We lifted it up and after removing a couple-hundred staples, a beautiful hardwood floor revealed itself. I started thinking "Hey, this is going to be cake."
Then it was on to the kitchen and removing the carpet from there. It was glued on with some adhesive that NASA probably used in the 60s. I thought "Wow, that was tough. I hope every job isn't like that."
It was.
Every morning, before work, I would trek over to the house and work on walls, getting old nailholes and cracks out of the plaster. We rewired outlets, replaced light fixtures and cleaned, cleaned and cleaned some more.
We got a modern electrical system, a new furnace, a new bathroom and every other odd and end that could come up. Finally, it was ready to move in.
There were hiccups and injuries (two trips to the ER for me) and some arguments along the way. But, we did it and made the house our own.
With the help of many others, we made the inside of our home a warm, inviting place. I never thought I could be a builder like my father, but I am learning. I even have my own tools.
If I can do it, then anyone can with a book or a guide to help along the way.
This year, we are going to tackle the outside, making it look as warm from the outside as it is inside. And there are still things to do inside. I recently found a crack reappeared in some plaster I repaired last year.
Strangely, I am looking forward to fixing it.
* Nate Smith and his wife Allison and son Colin make their home in Washington, but not without the help of friends and family along the way. E-mail him at nsmith@washtimesherald.com.