This Old House

I am considerably proud right now…and tired. So this post will be very, VERY short.

Sandra and I bought our first house about a year ago. It was cheap, ugly, falling to pieces, and it was ours. I remember the day we signed our lives away and were finally given keys. We unlocked the doors and walked into our new home. As I walked through my new home, I panicked. What had I gotten myself into? No wonder it was so cheap. Both Sandra and I were trying to act excited, but we were both scared.


To date we have rehabbed every room in the house, except the bathroom. For the past two days we have been slave to this dreaded room. I pulled up five layers of plywood, most of them rotten. Underneath the galvanized feed lines were pulled and replaced with copper, and the cast iron drain lines were swapped out for PVC. The toilet, which was snug up against the soil pipe—and awkward position—so I moved it four feet away, not an easy task when the new position required a drain line that ran against the floor joists.

A pro could have done it in a day. It took me two. But after several breakdowns, a few moments peppered with colorful language, and a two foot geyser (after turned the water back on was brought to the realization that I had forgotten to sweat on of the copper joints together) I was able to stand back and look on in amazement. I did this! No books, no internet, no help, besides some advice from a seasoned friend. In fact, I think I felt more pride than the times in which I have brought in $10,000.00+ donations at work. That probably sounds bad (like a bad fit), but there is something to be said for working with your hands.