Our first actual renovation wasn't really our renovation. Our real estate agent thankfully included a clause in the contract of sale that everything which came with the home had to work on the day we moved in. This meant it was really the previous owners' last repair.
The house was for sale in the first place because the previous couple's marriage had broken up. The husband had left his less than stable wife with their mentally handicapped teenage son and preschool daughter. The now ex-wife was either unemployed or under-employed and couldn't afford the bills associated with the house. Her gas had been off for months and the mortgage was heading for foreclosure. Details you find out later that make you feel like a vulture.
The man from the gas company came while we were moving boxes into the house. He turned on the line to the house and then as a courtesy lit all the pilot lights. The furnace worked just fine. Smelled musty, but it was the end of summer and that was expected. The pilot light for the hot water tank lit like normal, but the burner wouldn't fire up. The man was apologetic, but assured me from his 30 years of experience that the tank was now worthless and would have to be replaced. The little valve at the base of the tank was pooched and could neither be serviced or replaced. Some little O-ring or brass fitting had corroded or pinched and so the whole business needed to go.
I called my realtor, who called the selling realtor, who called the lady who sold the house. That lady said she was broke and it would be up to her ex-husband to deal with it. The ex-husband came out to look at it with his plumber friend. Ex-hubby brought his new girlfriend. The new girlfriend used to be married to the plumber friend. Apparently that was all okay.
As it turns out, you must be a plumber/gasfitter to replace a gas-fired hot water tank. This plumber friend did not have those credentials, so had to phone his friend. Thankfully the gasfitter friend seemed like a normal person. He gave his quote and said he could have it done in the next couple days. Sounded good to me, because now I had my parents, my wife, and myself all staying in the house working in early September heat with no hot water.
The day after the gasfitter set up the job, the ex-husband phoned me to say it wasn't really fair that he had to pay for the tank and would I go halfers with him? It was clearly a scam, because I reminded him of the contract and he promptly agreed and hung up.
The big day arrived and the gasfitter showed up like he promised. The plumber friend was there to be a big semi-useless gopher, and the ex-husband showed up to watch with his really annoying new girlfriend. Instead of unpacking boxes or cleaning or painting in my new house I had to sit with the whole crowd in my new garage and listen to the soap opera they called a life. The only person there I trusted to not just grab a box of stuff on their way out was the gasfitter.
It all worked out for us in the end. That tank is still sitting there, heating water. I haven't seen or heard from those crazy previous owners since that Saturday in my garage. We still get a surprising amount of mail for them, but even that has tapered off in the last couple years.
Tuesday 16 September 2014
The Beginning
We bought our first home in the summer of 2009. Of course, we had a home inspector come check the place out. Half way through his inspection, he asked me if I'm handy. I said I had a few tools and a little experience. He smiled and said I should be ok then.
Nothing was falling apart or dangerous in our new home, but it had been neglected for several years. Ours was the first home the inspector had ever highlighted cleaning the gutters in red ink to indicate the urgency of the task.
The walls were dingy and poorly painted. The carpets were tired. The backyard layout had been sketched by a toddler during a bumpy car ride. The kitchen was the worst, with few cabinets, peeling countertop, and a general feeling of uncleanliness.
On the plus side, it was in a decent neighbourhood, it was the size we were looking for (three bedrooms, ~1500 ft), and the structure was solid. First we scrubbed, then we painted, then we let our bank account catch up for a while. The plunge into the housing market didn't leave us with much extra cash for big renovations, so we took some time to plan what we wanted to do.
Between that summer and now, Pinterest was invented.
Nothing was falling apart or dangerous in our new home, but it had been neglected for several years. Ours was the first home the inspector had ever highlighted cleaning the gutters in red ink to indicate the urgency of the task.
The walls were dingy and poorly painted. The carpets were tired. The backyard layout had been sketched by a toddler during a bumpy car ride. The kitchen was the worst, with few cabinets, peeling countertop, and a general feeling of uncleanliness.
On the plus side, it was in a decent neighbourhood, it was the size we were looking for (three bedrooms, ~1500 ft), and the structure was solid. First we scrubbed, then we painted, then we let our bank account catch up for a while. The plunge into the housing market didn't leave us with much extra cash for big renovations, so we took some time to plan what we wanted to do.
Between that summer and now, Pinterest was invented.
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