Hmmm...what's the date on that Country Charm? I think it's turned.

As I said, our house was livable when we bought it. And it was. But there was no end to the updates it would benefit from. They ranged from the essential (structural, plumbing, electric) to the cosmetic (purple bedrooms that should be dining rooms, wall paper with butter churns and wheelbarrows on it, and wood paneling that...well...it was wood paneling). Here's a shot of the kitchen.



So started the avalanche. We began by tearing out the kitchen, the one thing we knew right up front needed a major overhaul. This involved carefully pulling off trim, removing cabinets, and pulling up heinous linoleum flooring. We ended up tossing the cabinets because it will be years before we have a garage to consider putting them in, we're still on the fence with respect to a lot of the trim (hint: we have yet to install our trim), and I really regret spending the time and energy we wasted pulling up any of the kitchen flooring/sub-flooring (sorry Bearcat!) as we ended up putting laminate tile down that honestly would have benefited from a smoother subfloor than what our ancient hardwoods offered.

Demo is the one thing that any diy-er can save money on, regardless of experience or know-how. Just be safe and don't break anything you might want to keep. And as with anything, the better your equipment and plans, the better your outcome. Note: make sure you are aware of where your electric and plumbing run behind walls tagged for demo and always be sure to turn off power and water to affected areas.

You will go through a lot of gloves. Buy comfortable ones that fit well and be ready to buy several pairs. Buy the most comfortable and effective mask you can afford (do your best to try them on) and give up the dream of finding enclosed safety goggles that won't fog up right now. The best pairs we used were some combination of dangerous, uncomfortable, and ineffective...without exception. But they are an absolute necessity. Every minute you "waste" adjusting them or taking them off to clean them could be a minute you won't have to figure how to live without your sight. And you will still get crap in your eyes...just (hopefully) not shrapnel if you use them right. Get sturdy, safety work shoes/boots. I remember one day thinking I had something in my shoe and taking off my sneaker to find the point of a nail poking through the sole. They are worth it as well. Along the same lines, it's better to be hot than to have tetanus so dress for the job...long sleeves, jeans, etc.

So after some grueling summer days of what we thought was grim demo labor (we had no idea), our kitchen looked like this (pic below from opposite end of room as pic above).


This sort of thing ultimately happened to every room of the house aside from the upstairs bathroom (and even that wasn't completely spared, although in retrospect we should have left the toilet in there too).

The walls in the kitchen were taken off and found to be plaster lath, sans most of the plaster which was nice. We sort of hoped to continue that trend but it was not to be. We found out shortly after that under our ceilings were nearly-intact plaster/lath works of pre-sheetrock art.

Generally speaking, our ceilings were in rough shape. They were covered with a sort of crusty, fibrous paneling that was sagging in several spots (due to crumbling plaster we were soon to find out), looked like hell, and generally screamed for replacement. Our walls, we felt at the time, were in good enough shape to leave up...saving us some demo time and drywall dollars. So we set about bringing down the ceilings on the first floor.

Tips for work like this...you'll need something to cover the floor, contractor bags, a wheelbarrow, choice implements of destruction (in our case a wonderbar and a superbar), helmets (seriously...wear a helmet of some sort while pulling heavy slabs of paneling and plaster and boards with rusty nails in them off the ceiling), safety goggles, heavy long sleeved clothing, hair covering, gloves, and safety shoes. Put your floor covering in place, don your safety gear, and start swinging. I tried initially to pull things down in an orderly fashion and for the paneling, this was key. But after all the big chunks of already-sagging plaster had come down and things would only crumble when teased, reaching up and yanking down on the lath with the prybars worked the best. Gathering the lath and bundling it up as well as laying down the floor covering (which also protected our original hardwoods) helped a great deal with cleanup, which was a pain. Contractor bags get very heavy very fast when being filled with plaster so don't get zealous and overfill them. And use that wheelbarrow. Do NOT drag the full bags...fill them only so full as to be able to load them into a wheelbarrow and cart them to your (hopefully) waiting dumpster. However dusty and gross you think work like this might be, it is far far more dusty and gross.

Let's take a moment to get something straight. Some people will describe to you a process of renovation that involves room by room demo and redesign, all while you're living there. If you have to live there, and you have to renovate...then this has to work. If you have any option to not live there and the renovations are widespread and/or involve some combination of complete system replacements (HVAC, plumbing, and electric) DO IT ALL AT ONCE. Suffer terribly for 6 months or a year instead of marginally for 20 years. Because no matter what your schedule, it will stretch out...and you're always going to be doing work to your house. But if you get all of the really painful and serious work out of the way at once without the pressure of having to co-habitate with it, you're better off than saving it and drawing it all out for decade upon decade.

That said, we ultimately opted to tear off all of our walls...which were compsed of heavily painted and wallpapered sheetrock over a combination of lath and plaster/lath. As more and more people advised us to do as much as we could at the time...the further our demo project went. Until we had taken the whole house apart.

I'll talk about our structural woes next...

"Yo, you need to rent The Money Pit, you know with Tom Hanks?"

This comment was very nearly the beginning of so many fights with so many people over the course of our renovation...people I respected , good friends even. But none of them could ever know what a twist of the knife a term like "money pit" was to me. Or that I had already seen the movie...and that it sucks (although I did laugh pretty hard at the part with the bathtub and the stairs and the collapsing and the mocking of some else's pain). Anyway...

I've talked a bit about our house here and there...mentioned it a couple times, maybe preached or borderline ranted about it and buying homes in general. But ultimately I'd like to get into the nitty gritty (read: hellish underbelly) of what it took to be able to sleep, cook, shower, and poop here. Naturally pictures are critical...so, here's our house.


That's the front. And here's the back...


It's an old house...1863. We think anyway. The real estate listing said 1837 but...the real estate listing said a lot of things. Like that we were in a school district we were most certainly not in...and that our house was 2200 sq ft...which it hardly is. Unless you're counting our dungeon of a basement, and our musty unfinished attic, and the garage, and the pumphouse. Ok...anyway, while toiling to install our radiant heat we found a little wooden plaque in the ceiling joists of our first floor that had the builder and inspector's names on it and the year 1863 listed. So we'll go with that, certainly over anything that the baby from Dinosaurs might have come up with.

Let me state up front that our house was livable when we bought it. A ~70 year old widow was living here quite happily (we assume) for many years prior to us buying it. God knows how she mowed the lawn or cleared the driveway of snow, but live here she did. We knew we would want to update the kitchen, replace a toilet or two, eventually re-side it...and surely several other projects TBD, but we figured that we would try to move in at the end of the 6 weeks span between the closing and the end of our lease.

Ultimately we reduced that livability to roughly 11 tons of debris and that 6 weeks turned into 6 months.

Hi Leeeeeeeeee!

That's how our Realtor used to greet me. Grinning from ear to ear and waddling towards me, faced caked with make-up. Remember the baby on that show Dinosaurs ()? That was our Realtor. Anyway, she more or less sucked...not too mention we fell into a bit of a dual agency trap. Granted the only house we looked at with her that we were really interested in, she happened to be the agent for the seller...so it was sort of just luck. But she certainly did not play hardball for us. And why would she? Hardball against her own client (the seller) makes no sense. The higher the price, the better.

Anyway, it's hard to find a Realtor you like. So I wouldn't try too hard. What I would suggest is find someone who is a friend...or a friend of a friend. Someone who has something to lose by screwing you...or at the very least, not treating you extremely well. And find someone who knows something about houses. My real estate lawyer friend told me once that the best agents are engineers or contractors who have transitioned willingly and successfully to real estate. Because they actually KNOW about houses. They can make informed judgments about property even before an inspector steps foot in the place (although an inspector is a must).

Which brings us to inspectors. I could not be more disappointed with our inspector. He was a very nice guy...which isn't really all that helpful when trying to determine how deep a particular hole is that you will soon be throwing all your money into. So yeah, he was nice. He also used the words (and I quote) "no big deal" when describing our home's structural issues. And I wouldn't say he looked rich, but apparently 8 large is "no big deal" in his world. Anyway, the point is you want a pitbull. You want Sherlock Holmes. You want a rabid, anxious, pessimistic, disgruntled inspector who will make the seller cry. Hell...he can make you cry. Just make sure he looks long and hard into that hole (the one you're thinking of throwing your money into that is).

for the newbie home buyer

I only say that this is for the newbie home buyer because that is all we know. We bought a house as newbie home buyers, renovated it as newbie renovators, and are maintaining it as newbie home owners. That perspective is really all we have to offer. We certainly haven't attained any level of expertise but the ignorance with which we approached most things in this arena is still fresh (and sometimes present) in our minds. So here's to hoping it can help someone else.

The first thing I would say is very general and is probably the most difficult concept to fully internalize and acknowledge in one's decision making. It's sort of a paradox really and the worst part is that it sort of renders all other advice pointless...as I don't know if anyone can ever really get past it without getting stung at least a few times. You see, you can't always act on the standard pieces of advice that you hear from so many people and from so many sources. You will hear it, you will agree that it makes sense and then you will not only make those decisions that you were advised not to make, you will typically go to great lengths to convince yourself you have given this advice careful thought and that you are making an informed and intelligent decision to contradict conventional wisdom. You might think it's a calculated risk for which the rewards will be great...or maybe you think you'll be more capable of dealing with things more effectively than the average person, for whom this advice might be more appropriate. Or you might just thumb your nose at it with that rebel spirit that got you kicked out of class and had you running laps at practice.

So let me take this opportunity to tell you to believe it. Believe what people tell you. Believe what I say here about the pitfalls and challenges because they are real and can be financially, physically, and emotionally painful.

If you are extrememly experienced in the art of home renovation or are extraordinarily bored, rich, and patient, this advice may not be as important. Otherwise, never forget that people who know what they're talking about mean what they say when it comes to something like this.

So then the second piece of advice that I would offer, something that is equally as challenging, would be to please please please look practically at what you want in a house and not romantically. If this sounds familiar, it is because everyone who offers homebuying advice mentions this (don't tell me you forgot the first piece of advice already).

Decide what you want in a house. I mean, I know everyone wants a beautiful mansion, or a house on the lake, or an old Victorian in the village with all sorts of character, or an Ewok village...or whatever. Most people can't have it. Certainly not as their first house. So be practical about that. Think about the boring things that will shape your life after you move it. Commutes, taxes, neighbors, etc.

Decide what you can spend on a house. Factor in taxes and the interest rate you can get approved for (notice the economy lately? think fixed-rate people...fixed). Do NOT under any circumstances, assume you will find a way to afford more than you realistically can. This country is foreclosure crazy right now...

Do your best to find a house that meets these critera. Try and narrow your house search down and then do your best to bring someone who knows at least a little about houses. If you want to look at a "fixer-upper" bring someone who has renovated.

Don't write off the practical choice. Submitting to the practical choice is boring and can be depressing...even sickening. However, when it comes to home buying, the practical choice is more powerful than in almost any other process (except maybe staying in school and not talking to strangers and saying no to reality television and all that). When it comes to buying a house, the practical choice can make the next few years of your life significantly more enjoyable...whereas the romantic choice has the very real potential to make you miserable (house poor, dirty and demoralized by renovations, some combination thereof, etc).

When you look critically at a home you are seriously interested in, you will certainly find things about the house that detract from its appeal. Keep in mind that these are not necessarily show stoppers. I have a friend whose fiance would dismiss houses with interior paint that she didn't like. Unless you're having your home built, don't expect to find houses that you won't want to at least change a little. Painting (done well of course) for instance gives you as much bang for your buck as any renovation. There is an entire spectrum of things that you might find that will make a home less attractive to you as a buyer. They will range from the simple and purely aesthetic (e.g. the aforementioned painting, or landscaping, or use of space) to the functional and structural (HVAC systems, foundation, roof, etc). None of these means that you can't or must buy the house. The only role they should play in the decision is whether or not the price is fair and whether or not you are willing to commit to them if it is.

So say you find a house that you want. You'd like to live where it is and you'd like to live in it. And best of all, you think it's a steal. But then you find out why. The plumbing is going and the plaster ceilings are crumbling. If you think you could make a fair and reasonable offer (one that you can afford of course) taking these things into account, ask yourself if you're willing to pay for the repairs or undertake them yourself. If it doesn't or you aren't, walk away. Just walk away. Too bad, so sad...just walk away.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't ever compromise on your budget or how much work you are or (more importantly) aren't willing to take on. Take as long as you possibly can to make the best possible decision you can...and then stick to it.

Ok...next post I'll try and lay out what we learned about realtors and inspectors...we only had one of each but like I said, we're newbies.

and well...now it's been a year

So we ended up closing on that house we were talking about looking for and eventually buying. And...wow. That was about 6 months ago. I initially had grand plans to document our progress and provide useful information to other diy-ers and...show people how hardworking and resourceful and bootstrappy we were. All that. Instead...we survived. At best. We had our hands and lungs and eyes and knees and our comfort zone and minds and sense of security and stability and our bank accounts and friendships and very fibers of our being assaulted almost non-stop the entire time. Not to be dramatic...

Anyway, we live here now. I mean, there are light bulbs hanging out of the ceilings and no trim and more rooms without outlets than rooms with and possessions scattered about seeking storage that will not come. But the kitchen is great. And the radiant flooring is awesome (albeit a bit creaky). And we can sit in our own space and watch tv for hours and not worry about running water or working toilets or freezing our assess off in the middle of a miserable dirty room with no walls or ceiling and god knows what floating through the air. And it's ours.