Mahoney Knows Homes: What HGTV Doesn’t Tell You About Renovating a House

“Mahoney Knows Homes” is the Gazette’s expert real estate column. Author Jack Mahoney is a realtor in Kingston Springs who is driven by a mission to deliver top-tier service, trusted market insight and meaningful value to the community he calls home.

It’s a Saturday morning around 10:30. After walking across the stage beaming with excitement, I smiled at the podium after receiving my degree from Youtube University. Graduating at the top of my household with a minor in HGTV Renovations, my commencement speech proudly ended with a farewell to my wife, announcing my departure to the local hardware store for a “quick trip” to gather supplies. With a spring in my step, I got into the car where the music was blasting, I was singing along as the breeze blew through my hair. All of this was happening while reviewing my supplies list to make sure I grab everything that I would need.

Pipe, check

Pipe sealant, check

Teflon tape, check

I proceed to park at the back of the lot because it is crowded, but I don’t mind the extra steps on this beautiful day! 

Walking in, I am immediately overwhelmed with the tall ceilings, fluorescent lights and the excitement of where to start. “Should I stop by the lighting department while I’m here? That old fan has been bugging me for a while.” Finally making my way to the plumbing section, I notice a man doing his best impression of “The Thinker” in the middle of the aisle. I excuse myself past him, trying not to disturb his concentration and quickly locate the items I came for. 

While checking out, I smile at the cashier, make small talk and wish her a pleasant day. “Honey, I’m home! I’m just going to shut the water off so I don’t flood the house. This won’t take long!”

Before starting, I decided to review the YouTube video one last time for good measure. “Ahh - that’s what it was.” Now where did I put that wrench... 

After rearranging my workbench for that pesky wrench that always seems to lose itself, I dig in with confidence like a lion mounting its prey. After the disassembly job was finished, I realized the part I bought at the hardware store doesn’t match or fit correctly. I need a different size. Because I reached a “point of no return”, it is unsafe to turn the water back on and once again leave the house to get the right part. 

“Bye Honey, I’ll be right back.” This time, the windows are up and the music is a little quieter. I pulled into the back of the lot and returned to the same aisle. Despite it being 45 minutes after my first trip, that same man is still there with his hand on his chin. 

I picked up the correct part this time and visited my new cashier friend. She looked at me with just a pinch of what I felt was judgement, and because I already brought up the weather earlier - I told her how I grabbed the wrong size part and “this is the one I need.” She couldn’t care less. 

I finally get back to my workstation and snarkily voice my frustrations to the tools scattered on the floor around me about how this part of the job was never actually reviewed in the videos. They didn’t mention how I need a specialized tool OR that the parts I replace MUST be an exact match and brand as the original fixture.

I proceed to scrounge through every bin, box and bag in my garage hoping the magical plumbing part fairy left me a gift for being a courageous homeowner, but nope. Skunked again. Back to the hardware store after I conclude from several internet sources that I will need an ADAPTOR.

WHAT THE HECK IS AN ADAPTOR??? This time when I get in the car, I don’t even tell my wife that I’m leaving. The windows are down and music isn’t quite cutting it, so I settle on silence. “Surely I’ve got it now.” Tired of wasting time, I park right next to the cart corral at the front of the lot. I venture back to the plumbing, laughing at myself for even considering changing that fan today. As I reach my destination, I am stopped in my tracks while gazing into the multitude of options. I’m like a kid in a candy store, except this candy is made of utter despair and agony. My hand reaches for my chin as I assume my final form and am now a centerpiece of the institution in which I have patronized three times today. 

A young man breezes by me, quickly grabs a few items and leaves. I stand there picking up pieces, fitting them together while referencing photos on my phone. Some of the things I am picking up don’t even make sense for the project. This continues for a while as my confusion spirals and time carries on.

It was at this moment, I began to question my entire existence. What a strange world we live in to have such infrastructure and modern conveniences to where a “simple little fix” – done in 5 minutes on YouTube – could create such a catastrophe. I think of the people who designed and built the bridges I had driven over all day and how such a monumental undertaking could be accomplished. Meanwhile, I am struggling with one small piece of plumbing for hours. I realize that I was never qualified for this. What in the world gave me the confidence that I would be able to pull this off? I begin to reason with myself in an attempt to preserve self-esteem and acknowledge that I am a capable and intelligent person, but just not when it comes to plumbing.

My hand makes its way to my chin again as I draw closer to making a decision. I realize 45 minutes have gone and all of the sudden the same young man I saw earlier, this time with a little more urgency, walks by me again.  

On the ride home I have a conversation with my newly acquired hardware. Threats are made to inanimate objects. I pull into the driveway, approach my abandoned workstation and give it a final effort in pure desperation – similar to Clark Griswold forcefully joining extension cords for the very last time. It works. Overwhelmed with relief, I turned the water back on. That five minute video turned into a five hour job. 

I walk upstairs and pour myself a glass of water. No congratulations are offered from my wife for the completion of the task. I stare deeply into the wood grains of the kitchen table as I recount the day... and come to terms with the realization that this was just step number one of the entire bathroom renovation I committed to doing "all by myself."