- May 18, 2001
- 7,886
- 382
- 126
My avalanche of remodeling misery started when I dislodged just one tiny pebble.
My wife and I bought a “new” house a little over a couple of years ago. The house was built in the mid 90’s. While the previous owners had done a decent job keeping it updated, it still was showing some age, especially in the kitchen. Mrs. Ned and I had always planned on putting our personal stamp on the place, but we figured it would be sometime in the distant future after we had recovered financially from the purchase of the house. In hindsight, it’s grimly amusing how wrong we were.
It all started with our decrepit old microwave. It was a cabinet-mounted model that on a good day might grudgingly warm a cup of coffee. On a bad day, it would emit a bright blue flash right before setting off all the neighborhood dogs. It had to go. I’m a handy guy, and I’ve installed an under counter microwave before. Removing the old microwave and replacing it with a shiny new one seemed like such a simple project. What could possibly go wrong?
The new microwave was taller than the old one by a fraction of an inch.
The width and depth were just fine, which meant that it fit in the space among the cabinets perfectly. But the height issue meant that the tile backsplash above the stove prevented the microwave from resting flush against the wall. Not a problem. We intended to eventually replace the backsplash anyway, so I decided to get a putty knife and pry one row of tiles off the wall. I could foresee this being a quick and easy task, after which my wife would grant me some triumphant Bob Villa sex for a job well done. What could possibly go wrong?
Mysterious geologic forces had melded the tiles with the drywall so that they were now one.
It quickly became obvious that a mere putty knife alone was not the equal for the job, so like any self-respecting guy I added a hammer to the mix. A couple of quick whacks to the putty knife, and voila – the blade was behind the tile. All I had to do was give the handle a gentle twist. Just like magic the tile popped off into my hand… along with most of the other tiles and the underlying drywall. Not a problem. The wife and I decided to go ahead and replace the backsplash, and while we were at it we would install granite countertops. At this point, my in-laws made quite a generous offer: they were willing to pay for new cabinets, with the exception of a few special ones we wanted. What could possibly go wrong?
While tearing out the old cabinets, we discovered that the kitchen wiring was, uh, not exactly up to code.
The previous owner had mounted ambiance lighting directly on top of and also underneath the old cabinets. It was a really good look, and I have to commend his good sense for interior decorating. However, I have to question his decision to permanently wire household lighting with extension cords. You read that correctly. Instead of spending the extra cash on household grade wire, he bought a bunch of extension cords, clipped the ends, and then used them to install the lights. We had to pay to have the majority of the kitchen completely rewired. Not a problem. We were glad to know that after the rework, we would be much less likely to wake up extra crispy some fine morning. So our hired guy got himself busy installing the cabinets and the lighting. What could possibly go wrong?
The new cabinets, unlike the old, fit flush against the walls, leaving large areas of previously unpainted kitchen.
For whatever reason, the previous owner had the bright idea to space the original cabinets several inches from the wall. When our guy installed the new cabinets the proper way, there were large patches of ugly old wallpaper exposed. I’m talking about drab gray paper with red moose and green pine trees. Not a problem. Our guy, who gets highly paid by the hour, was more than happy to strip the old wallpaper and paint the walls. So with the cabinets and lights installed, and the walls freshly painted, it was time to pick out our granite. What could possibly go wrong?
The wife and I couldn’t agree on the rock we wanted.
The wife and I had a specific budget designated for our granite. To keep our little project from spiraling out of control any further, we took a blood oath that we would stick to the budget, come Hell or high water. Unfortunately, we discovered that our tastes in granite widely vary. After teetering on the edge of divorce, what we found is that the only stone on which we could agree was platinum impregnated granite that is mined by Yeti sherpas from the highest cliffs of Everest (e.g. the most expensive granite known to man). Not a problem. Budget be damned, we sucked up the cost, had the granite installed, continued to be married, and ordered our tile for the backsplash. What could possibly go wrong?
Our tile was delivered by the enraged mountain gorilla that used to be in the old Samsonite commercials.
Every single tile in the box was broken upon delivery. Every. Single. Last. Craptastic. Tile. We had to reorder. Unfortunately, the tile we ordered must be fabricated from rare minerals found only on the Moon. They are scheduled to be delivered the day after I die of old age, and I can’t freakin’ wait to see how they look. My kitchen is going to be awesome.
Now my wife has a new project she wants me to start. It’s called a vasectomy. What could possibly go wrong?
My wife and I bought a “new” house a little over a couple of years ago. The house was built in the mid 90’s. While the previous owners had done a decent job keeping it updated, it still was showing some age, especially in the kitchen. Mrs. Ned and I had always planned on putting our personal stamp on the place, but we figured it would be sometime in the distant future after we had recovered financially from the purchase of the house. In hindsight, it’s grimly amusing how wrong we were.
It all started with our decrepit old microwave. It was a cabinet-mounted model that on a good day might grudgingly warm a cup of coffee. On a bad day, it would emit a bright blue flash right before setting off all the neighborhood dogs. It had to go. I’m a handy guy, and I’ve installed an under counter microwave before. Removing the old microwave and replacing it with a shiny new one seemed like such a simple project. What could possibly go wrong?
The new microwave was taller than the old one by a fraction of an inch.
The width and depth were just fine, which meant that it fit in the space among the cabinets perfectly. But the height issue meant that the tile backsplash above the stove prevented the microwave from resting flush against the wall. Not a problem. We intended to eventually replace the backsplash anyway, so I decided to get a putty knife and pry one row of tiles off the wall. I could foresee this being a quick and easy task, after which my wife would grant me some triumphant Bob Villa sex for a job well done. What could possibly go wrong?
Mysterious geologic forces had melded the tiles with the drywall so that they were now one.
It quickly became obvious that a mere putty knife alone was not the equal for the job, so like any self-respecting guy I added a hammer to the mix. A couple of quick whacks to the putty knife, and voila – the blade was behind the tile. All I had to do was give the handle a gentle twist. Just like magic the tile popped off into my hand… along with most of the other tiles and the underlying drywall. Not a problem. The wife and I decided to go ahead and replace the backsplash, and while we were at it we would install granite countertops. At this point, my in-laws made quite a generous offer: they were willing to pay for new cabinets, with the exception of a few special ones we wanted. What could possibly go wrong?
While tearing out the old cabinets, we discovered that the kitchen wiring was, uh, not exactly up to code.
The previous owner had mounted ambiance lighting directly on top of and also underneath the old cabinets. It was a really good look, and I have to commend his good sense for interior decorating. However, I have to question his decision to permanently wire household lighting with extension cords. You read that correctly. Instead of spending the extra cash on household grade wire, he bought a bunch of extension cords, clipped the ends, and then used them to install the lights. We had to pay to have the majority of the kitchen completely rewired. Not a problem. We were glad to know that after the rework, we would be much less likely to wake up extra crispy some fine morning. So our hired guy got himself busy installing the cabinets and the lighting. What could possibly go wrong?
The new cabinets, unlike the old, fit flush against the walls, leaving large areas of previously unpainted kitchen.
For whatever reason, the previous owner had the bright idea to space the original cabinets several inches from the wall. When our guy installed the new cabinets the proper way, there were large patches of ugly old wallpaper exposed. I’m talking about drab gray paper with red moose and green pine trees. Not a problem. Our guy, who gets highly paid by the hour, was more than happy to strip the old wallpaper and paint the walls. So with the cabinets and lights installed, and the walls freshly painted, it was time to pick out our granite. What could possibly go wrong?
The wife and I couldn’t agree on the rock we wanted.
The wife and I had a specific budget designated for our granite. To keep our little project from spiraling out of control any further, we took a blood oath that we would stick to the budget, come Hell or high water. Unfortunately, we discovered that our tastes in granite widely vary. After teetering on the edge of divorce, what we found is that the only stone on which we could agree was platinum impregnated granite that is mined by Yeti sherpas from the highest cliffs of Everest (e.g. the most expensive granite known to man). Not a problem. Budget be damned, we sucked up the cost, had the granite installed, continued to be married, and ordered our tile for the backsplash. What could possibly go wrong?
Our tile was delivered by the enraged mountain gorilla that used to be in the old Samsonite commercials.
Every single tile in the box was broken upon delivery. Every. Single. Last. Craptastic. Tile. We had to reorder. Unfortunately, the tile we ordered must be fabricated from rare minerals found only on the Moon. They are scheduled to be delivered the day after I die of old age, and I can’t freakin’ wait to see how they look. My kitchen is going to be awesome.
Now my wife has a new project she wants me to start. It’s called a vasectomy. What could possibly go wrong?
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