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blatherskiteThe bathroom really had to go:
we'd tolerated the ugly spotlights for 8 years (after all, they worked, and we weren't staying in there all that long, teenage daughter being the obvious and extreme exception)
the toilet is round and thus not male-friendly (every man I've talked to immediately knew what I mean; most women were baffled)
the tub (ceramic over metal) was rusting, and the plumber who unclogged it when my drain-snake-fu failed me said it couldn't just be painted over
the drywall on the roof needed to be retaped, though for purely cosmetic rather than functional reasons
the tiles were never wonders of esthetics, and having begun to crack, badly needed replacement; regrouting would only delay the inevitable, and there were leaks and badly designed plumbing behind them that would need fixing
we really needed to install a fan to vent the humid air before the fungus community woke up, realized we were sleeping on the job, and decided to execute a hostile takeover
So we decided to get with the program and hire a contractor. Hiring contractors is much like Russian Roulette, with the exception that if you get unlucky with a contractor, things don't end in a hurry—they drag on until you start wishing you'd played Russian roulette. Fortunately, our remarkable accountant (if you're in Montreal, Boston, or Israel and need a good accountant, contact me privately for details) had recently hired someone to fix some water damage in his basement, and when we visited to tidy up some accounts, he couldn't resist showing off the work. It was remarkable: immaculate, possibly even significantly better than the original.
We hired his contractor on the spot.
Thus far, Kourosh is a blessed relief: he does great work, and at a very reasonable cost. Better still, he's willing to patch things over if we insist, but like me, he'd prefer to do the job right so it won't have to be patched again in the future. We see eye to eye on this, and he's been fixing a lot of things along the way that weren't really part of the original plan. (The good side of the apprenticeship system for electrical and plumbing and other trades: A master tradesman can train a good or even a great apprentice. The bad side: incompetence can be institutionalized, and when nobody's policing the work, an asshat can do some truly shoddy work.) Kourosh is a master. I can't do this kind of work myself—not enough hours in the week to learn everything I'd like to learn and make time to hone the necessary skills, and renovation is not on my top 10 list—but I've read enough books on mechanical repairs and have enough basic engineering knowledge to recognize really good work.
On the other hand, renovation is much like sausage-making: the result may be very tasty, but you really don't want to watch the process. Plaster dust everywhere, and trying to concentrate on thorny Japlish and Chinglish editing while the contractor demolishes the old tiles and fills the house with strange grind-ey, saw-ey, drill-ey, vibratey noises that go on for hours on end. That doesn't even include the excitement of having Home Depot fail to deliver the materials when requested, and then having some clueless manager claim they had been delivered and signed for. Um... no, we work at home. I think we would have noticed.
In their defence, they did deliver them the following day—although with enough damage to the tub we had to order a new one. That could've been ugly, but we did finally reach a helpful manager who promised to get us a new one immediately—and had it delivered safely by 10 AM the following morning. Good for him!
Lesson for freelancers: If you're a contractor, sweat the details. Your clients will love you for it. And go the extra mile for customer service: the good manager on the second day more than made up for a sleepless night caused by the first manager and saved his store a major black eye, PR-wise.
Meantime, in the absence of a shower (and with temperatures hovering near freezing, preventing any backyard-hose showers), I've found a local fitness club with a 3-day free trial, so I now have a port in a storm and can maintain my squeaky clean reputation, at least for the next two days. I dearly love elliptical trainers, but I'm not sure it's worth nearly $500 per year for the privilege of using one.
Hey... maybe we could raise the ceiling several inches in the basement to make room for our own machine. I know this great contractor...
So we decided to get with the program and hire a contractor. Hiring contractors is much like Russian Roulette, with the exception that if you get unlucky with a contractor, things don't end in a hurry—they drag on until you start wishing you'd played Russian roulette. Fortunately, our remarkable accountant (if you're in Montreal, Boston, or Israel and need a good accountant, contact me privately for details) had recently hired someone to fix some water damage in his basement, and when we visited to tidy up some accounts, he couldn't resist showing off the work. It was remarkable: immaculate, possibly even significantly better than the original.
We hired his contractor on the spot.
Thus far, Kourosh is a blessed relief: he does great work, and at a very reasonable cost. Better still, he's willing to patch things over if we insist, but like me, he'd prefer to do the job right so it won't have to be patched again in the future. We see eye to eye on this, and he's been fixing a lot of things along the way that weren't really part of the original plan. (The good side of the apprenticeship system for electrical and plumbing and other trades: A master tradesman can train a good or even a great apprentice. The bad side: incompetence can be institutionalized, and when nobody's policing the work, an asshat can do some truly shoddy work.) Kourosh is a master. I can't do this kind of work myself—not enough hours in the week to learn everything I'd like to learn and make time to hone the necessary skills, and renovation is not on my top 10 list—but I've read enough books on mechanical repairs and have enough basic engineering knowledge to recognize really good work.
On the other hand, renovation is much like sausage-making: the result may be very tasty, but you really don't want to watch the process. Plaster dust everywhere, and trying to concentrate on thorny Japlish and Chinglish editing while the contractor demolishes the old tiles and fills the house with strange grind-ey, saw-ey, drill-ey, vibratey noises that go on for hours on end. That doesn't even include the excitement of having Home Depot fail to deliver the materials when requested, and then having some clueless manager claim they had been delivered and signed for. Um... no, we work at home. I think we would have noticed.
In their defence, they did deliver them the following day—although with enough damage to the tub we had to order a new one. That could've been ugly, but we did finally reach a helpful manager who promised to get us a new one immediately—and had it delivered safely by 10 AM the following morning. Good for him!
Lesson for freelancers: If you're a contractor, sweat the details. Your clients will love you for it. And go the extra mile for customer service: the good manager on the second day more than made up for a sleepless night caused by the first manager and saved his store a major black eye, PR-wise.
Meantime, in the absence of a shower (and with temperatures hovering near freezing, preventing any backyard-hose showers), I've found a local fitness club with a 3-day free trial, so I now have a port in a storm and can maintain my squeaky clean reputation, at least for the next two days. I dearly love elliptical trainers, but I'm not sure it's worth nearly $500 per year for the privilege of using one.
Hey... maybe we could raise the ceiling several inches in the basement to make room for our own machine. I know this great contractor...