There is another housing crisis in America. But this story involves something other than upside down mortgages and foreclosures. Do you know that thousands of people visit emergency rooms each year as the result of do-it-yourself home repair injuries?
This is a story about all the former junior high school woodshop warriors (and warriorettes) who think that if they can hang a picture, they can rewire their houses or maybe add a new wing.
You’ve seen them on their way to a home improvement mecca near you, forming a train of cars on the weekends that resembles the scene at the end of the classic 1989 baseball movie “Field of Dreams.” They’re your friends, neighbors and relatives. Once they arrive, they rush from their cars like teenage girls racing for free Justin Bieber concert tickets. With materials lists held firmly in sweat-soaked hands, they walk from aisle to aisle in a stupor as if their bodies and minds are under the control of an alien life force behind the store’s mirrored main office. Even more frightening is to watch them return home, their cars overflowing with lumber, drywall hanging out the window, and trunks flapping up and down while helplessly trying to contain a surplus of supplies.
Attempting to repair, upgrade or completely rebuild their homes, these handyman hopefuls are fueled with knowledge from the latest magazines and trendy television shows. I am this person, too. I, like many, live in a 50-plus-year-old home with blemishes and imperfections. I nearly ruined a recent vacation thinking I could remove seven layers of lead paint from two entry doors by painting some magical green goo onto them. I envisioned myself being entertained by a cabaret act, the paint seductively stripping itself from the doors. Instead, I found myself dressed in a white full-body painting suit for two days, inhaling chemical fumes and staring at a week’s worth of sanding. End result? I called a painter and returned to vacationing.
Forget what you see and hear on television and in carefully crafted book illustrations. The image of buying an in-stock door and installing it in one afternoon is an illusion, a magic trick Houdini would be proud of. The reality is that your original rectangular door opening has settled into the shape of a trapezoid. Good luck finding trapezoidal doors in any home improvement store or catalog. If you find one, I’d like to see it. So would Bob Vila. For now, leave the door alone unless you have an advanced geometry degree and a magic wand.
Contractor’s license? The only license most of these people have is a license to brush their teeth. Home repair skills? Probably something like mine. I thought the first little piggy with the grass house did a good job.
So who’s to blame? Well, I believe in the philosophy that we have more control over our lives than we think. But in this case, I assign some responsibility to the people behind the idea of the giant home improvement retail store. With a barrage of catchy commercials, these superstores brainwash defenseless homeowners into thinking they can spend a $100 for some spackle and plywood, and then turn their homes into the Magic Kingdom. Sorry everyone, but we’re not the Walt Disneys of DIY World.
(By the way, that $100 figure is true no matter when you visit these stores. The minimum amount you’ll spend is $100. Need a paintbrush? Check your bag when you get home. You walked out with the paintbrush and at least $95 worth of additional stuff that you bought during an adrenaline-filled shopping blackout.)
What’s the solution? Adjust our expectations. My idea of do-it-yourself home improvement? Grocery shopping. I consider stocking the cabinets and the refrigerator with food and beverages a major home renovation. I’m going to petition the government to allow groceries as a tax deduction. Otherwise, my far-fetched options are to outfit my house with solar panels, install a geothermal heating system, or build a wind turbine in my backyard.
Beyond groceries, I mow the lawn and rake leaves. And that’s what the idea of DIY should be to most people. I suggest you retire the toolbelt and toss the fix-it list. Forget the wild fantasies of building the next Taj Mahal. Instead, go DDIY (don’t-do-it-yourself). Spend free time with your family and neighbors, play a sport, or practice ways to get the ketchup out of the bottle before the next trip to your favorite restaurant. But leave the repairs and remodeling to your local licensed contractor or ask a highly skilled neighbor for help, and then head to the grocery store.
© 2011 by Mike Farley
Farley in Writing 