The madness begins with small things. First, you’ll fool yourself into believing you’re capable of pulling off some practical tasks around the house. You’re probably not. But okay. Install that new faucet.
Like me, though, you may soon be prowling your perfectly fine home looking for things to break and tear down. You may, for example, suggest that a bathtub be moved for space or a dining room be outfitted with some snooty wainscoting (a word you probably learned ten minutes beforehand while watching the DIY Network).
When this happens, your wife may suggest that you should probably start with something that meshes better with your skill set, because, after all, you don’t even own a proper hammer.
You ignore this emasculating comment, because Chip would. But then, probably while watching your fourth straight hour of “Holmes Makes It Right,” you start to deceive yourself in truly destructive ways: “Hey,” you think to yourself, “why I am even fooling around with these piddling projects when I could just buy a ramshackle house in a great neighborhood, fix it up, and sell it?” I can lay a hardwood floor. I can put up drywall. I can buy sod. I can find some muted blue paints. I can build a 20-foot table out of discarded wood. I mean, this petite woman on “Rehab Addict” is demoing an entire house. Why can’t I?
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