DIY blues

It’s all because of that stupid cable TV.

Until some years ago, our TV signal came to us via a rooftop antenna. We received exactly four channels, one of which was Public TV.

I’m a big fan of Public TV, and not just because of “Sesame Street.” One Public TV program my wife and I especially enjoy is “This Old House.”

On “This Old House,” they fix up — surprise — old houses. These renovations span many episodes, which is close to the natural order of things. It reflects reality; that is, if your reality involves camera crews and the best power tools known to mankind.

We now have cable, which means we can watch numerous TV shows that are similar to “This Old House.” Similar, but evil.

For instance, there’s a channel called “Magnolia Network,” which embraces the ethic of homeowner DIY. DIY is supposed to mean do-it-yourself, but I think it actually means, “Divorce? Is yes.”

The problem is that many of the programs on “Magnolia Network” are just an hour long. Large and complex home improvement projects are carried out, from conception to completion, during that brief hour, which includes numerous commercial breaks.

This radically distorts perceptions regarding the difficulty of do-it-yourself home improvement projects: “As you can see, Bob, any homeowner can quickly and easily build a space shuttle in the backyard using only a rudimentary set of hand tools.”

My wife is not a high-maintenance person. Plain and simple is good enough for her; were this not so, she never would have married me.

I took notice when she began to mention that our bathroom needed help. She had a point. The original bathtub my grandfather installed in 1963 — upgraded to a shower by me in 1983 — was beginning to look icky. Inspired by “Magnolia Network,” I decided to attempt a do-it-yourself bathroom upgrade.

Topping my agenda was an overhaul of our home’s water delivery system. Our plumbing had been cobbled together over many years and had evolved into a convoluted conglomeration that closely resembled the innards of the Death Star.

I visited my friendly local plumber guy and described my situation. I left his shop with a pickup truck full of PEX pipes and fittings, along with visions of a sparkling new bathroom.

As they say in the military, no battle plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. So it was with my plumbing project.

The top item on my lengthy action list was to remove a brass adaptor from a galvanized pipe. This hardware appeared to have been originally screwed together back in 1963.

Knowing that the adaptor wouldn’t listen to reason, I deployed my biggest, nastiest pipe wrenches. Shock and awe; I was shocked when the galvanized pipe broke and awed by the amount of water that was sprayed on me. My long action list was instantly rendered meaningless.

I quickly and methodically moved onto Plan B, which was to panic. Woe betides the husband who cannot restore water pressure to the house ere his wife returns home from work.

I’ve noticed that females are fussy about having a functioning toilet in the house. I’ve never understood what the big deal is.

We guys have different standards than females. To me, a 5-gallon bucket with holes punched in the bottom is a good enough shower — not that I would ever need a shower, mind you.

But alas, it was not to be. We went a full day without water pressure and much longer than that before we regained a functional shower. That sort of thing would never wash with modern young people, who seem to need several showers daily. Anything less would be considered a violation of the Geneva Conventions.

After water pressure was restored, I tore out the old tub and installed the new shower. As soon as the pipes were all hooked up, I flipped on the shower and ... everything worked. Not a single leak anywhere. I stood in the basement for a long time and simply watched the pipes not leak.

Next came the installation of some new drywall. Drywall is a substance whose sole purpose is to cause people to invent innovative curse words.

I was dreaming of perfection, but that fantasy quickly surrendered to reality. “Don’t worry, the mud will probably hold it together,” is my motto regarding drywall.

We eventually achieved the goal of acquiring a sparkling new bathroom. What began as a little 2-day plumbing project morphed into a monster that consumed most of two weeks.

Even so, thanks to the folks at “Magnolia Network,” I feel as though I can tackle almost anything. Anybody need help building a backyard space shuttle?

Jerry Nelson is a recovering dairy farmer from Volga, South Dakota. He and his wife, Julie, have two sons and live on the farm where Jerry’s great-grandfather homesteaded over 110 years ago. Feel free to email him at [email protected].